Heavenly. Teen Wolf (s.s)

xxv. completely powerless

"I don't know that," Stiles shook his head, breathing heavily as he tried to calm his fast heartbeat. "How would I know that?"

"Because you're the clever one, aren't you? And because deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth or I will rip her apart," Peter threatened as he ran a finger over Lydia's wound that he inflicted.

"Look-look, I don't know, okay? I sw-I swear to god, I have no idea," Stiles promised.

"Tell me!" The alpha demanded, losing his patience with the Stilinski boy.

"Okay, okay, okay," Gracie conceded, her voice shaking as she spoke. "...look, I-I think he knew--"

"--Knew what?" Peter interrupted.

"Derek, I think he-I think he knew he was gonna be caught."

"By the Argents?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"When they were shot, he and Scott-I think he took Scott's Phone," Gracie explained.

"Why?"

"They all have GPS now," Stiles spoke up, glowering at Peter. "So if he still has it and if it's still on -- you can find him."

"Let's go," Peter ordered, getting to his feet.

"No," Stiles shook his head, staring at Peter before looking down at Lydia. "I'm not just letting you leave her here."

"You don't have a choice, Stiles," Peter said bluntly, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing the Martin girl's blood off his lips. "You're coming with me."

"Just kill me," Stiles protested. "Look, I don't care anymore."

Peter, who had ran out of patience, reached forward and roughly grabbed Stiles' arm, pulling him to his feet.

"Call your friend," Peter told him. "Tell Jackson where she is. That's all you get."

With that, Peter let go of Stiles and dragged his niece away as he walked off the lacrosse field, leaving Stiles to make a panicked phone call. He shakily pulled out his phone and dialed Jackson's number. After he told the Whittemore what happened, Peter came back and dragged the Stilinski boy off the field as they made their way towards his Jeep.

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THE ATMOSPHERE INSIDE THE JEEP WAS TENSE. NO ONE HAD SAID A WORD or made a sound from the moment they left the school. Stiles' knuckles were turning white as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

"Don't feel bad," Peter said, breaking the silence as he looked at Stiles. "If she lives, she'll become a werewolf. She'll be incredibly powerful."

"Yeah," Stiles scoffed. "...and once a month, she'll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear me apart."

"Well, actually, considering that she's a woman -- twice a month," Peter corrected with a shrug.

Stiles, who was pulling into a parking garage, spluttered in shock. He gave Peter a wide-eyed look and didn't answer.

He did not just say that.

Gracie tore her gaze from the window and leaned forward, glaring at her uncle. "Just shut up."

"I can see that this is a touchy subject," Peter clicked his tongue and chuckled. "Park next to that car."

Stiles pulled into the spot Peter pointed towards, which was a few spaces over from another car, and shut off the Jeep. Peter was out of his seat within seconds and grabbed Gracie's arm, practically dragging her out of the vehicle. Gracie grunted from his painful grip he hand on her as Stiles jumped out of his seat and protested loudly.