LYCANTHROPY 》𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓀𝒾

Chapter Forty-Three

Cora gives him a look. "Why do you care?"

"Why do I care? Lets see." Stiles begins to list. "Because, over the last two weeks, my best friends tried to kill themselves, his boss nearly his boss nearly got ritually sacrificed, a girl I've known since I was three was ritually sacrificed, Boyd was killed by Alphas—you really need me to go on? Because I can. For like an hour."

"Okay, Stiles, I think she gets the point." Paige places a hand on his shoulder, to stop him from pacing around.

"You think Derek can do anything about it?" Cora asks, stepping towards the two.

"Since he's the one everyone seems to be after, it's more like he should do something about it." Stiles adds.

"I don't know. There's something about him now. He wasn't like this when I knew him." Cora tried to explain to them.

Curious to know, Paige asks. "Well, what was he like?"

"A lot like Scott actually." Paige shifts uncomfortably at the voice from the top of the spiral staircase. She knew Peter would be here; she just hoped she wouldn't have to see him. He continues to walk down the spiral staircase. "A lot like most teenagers. Unbearably romantic. Profoundly narcissistic. Tolerable really only to other teenagers."

As Peter comes forward to the table where Cora stands, Stiles grabs Paige's hand and carefully drags her along, much to her dismay. 

"And so what happened?" Stiles asks. "What changed him?"

"The same thing that changes a lot of young men. A girl." Peter informs them.

"Some girl broke his little heart, and that's why he's like that?" Stiles asks in disbelief. Paige shoots him a look, and he backs down.

"The details are a bit more textured. You remember before Derek was an Alpha, his eyes were blue?" Peter asks his niece. "Do you know why some werewolves have blue eyes?"

"I thought it was a genetic thing," Stiles answers.

"Really? I looked it up online; something about killing someone?" Paige looked over at Peter to confirm.

"Someone did their readings," Peter smirked at her, and she just sent him a glare. "If want to know what changed Derek? Then you need to know what changed the colour of his eyes...."

Beacon Hills High School, 2005

In the music room at Beacon Hills high school, a hand reaches to the counterweight of a metronome and gives a gentle push to start it clicking. A 15-year-old Paige Krasikeva raises a bow over a cello and begins to play. 

Another bet invades the ticking, however. Paige pauses. Now only hearing the metronome. She starts playing again, and a pounding comes from the corridor outside. She tries to play again when it stops, but the sound returns, louder and more recognizable.

The sound of a basketball smacking against the tile floor completely throwing off her rhythm.

The double doors of the music room burst open, turning several boys around to find Paige glaring at them.

"Do you guys mind? I'm trying to practice." The brunette girl stated, anger laced in her tone.

The one boy, with his back still to her slowly turns around, bouncing the ball in front of him. "How do you know we're not trying to practice too?" 15-year-old Derek Hale questions, almost grinning.

"Well, I'm practising in the music room. I'm pretty sure basketball practice takes place in the gym." Paige tells them.

"I'm pretty sure basketball practice takes place anywhere you have a basketball." Derek cockily spoke. He dribbles the ball through his legs, an impressive display. "See?" The others laugh behind him while she watches, visibly annoyed. Giving up, she turns back to the music room. "Hold on." Paige pauses at the door. "If you can take the ball away from me, I'll stop." With a sly smile, he bounces the ball right in front of her, tempting her to try. "Come on. It'll be easy."