Devil of Wolves

Chapter Seven (Killers Like Me)

Peter be damned. Derek be damned. Stiles was going to do what he wanted.

"Where?" He asks, ignoring Peter's still outstretched hand.

"I know a place," Peter says, deeming it unnecessary to expand further on the thought.

Stiles definitely shouldn't go with him. He absolutely shouldn't.

But he does.

Stiles reaches for Peter's outstretched hand, Peter's smile is less than comforting but Stiles follows it as he lets the man guide him out of the room.

Peter's grip is firm but Stiles knows he could easily break the hold, not that Peter wouldn't do something more drastic if he did, Stiles doesn't doubt that for a second.

His future self is probably screaming at him now knowing that this is the moment that led to his death, following the devil's equivalent.

But Stiles can't help but imagine how much this would probably irk Derek and that fills him with a bit of joy. As messed up as it is, if he does die by Peter's hand, he doesn't doubt Derek would lose his shit. And wouldn't that be a sight to see?

Instead of leading him back to the main part of the house, Peter turns a corner away from the training room, down a different hall, and eventually stops at the side of the hall. Peter turns to face a large picture frame, taking up the expanse of the wall.

Peter merely pulls the picture frame, revealing a small door behind.

Stiles tried not to scoff at the absurdity. "I'm gonna be pissed if this door doesn't lead to Narnia."

Peter merely pushes it open, revealing the outside. "Sorry to disappoint," he says and encourages Stiles to step through.

The doorway was tiny, barely the height of his shoulders and he had to duck to get through.

"So this is how you snuck in," Stiles notes once Peter joined him in the grass on the other side.

From the looks of it, they appear to have come out from below Derek's office but Stiles couldn't be too sure. The Hale house was like a maze.

Peter turns his head, his dull eyes lit up with amusement as he shuts the door. "Every house has a secret entrance, my dear, I feel it necessary to exploit them from time to time."

Stiles notices how seamlessly the door blends in with the side of the house. It really was quite the secret entrance, he had to admit.

He follows Peter as they walk around the exterior of the house toward the front. Stiles almost bumps into the man as they make it to the driveway when he notices a shiny blue Mercedes parked there. He feels his eye twitch.

"Figures," Stiles grumbles quietly. He hears the familiar click of the unlocking button and moves to open the passenger door. "There's not a dead body in here is there?" He queries as he carefully lowers himself into the seat and quickly looks behind into the back row.

Peter laughs, it sounded unused and hoarse. "No, I'm afraid. I prefer to use much stealthier vehicles for body transportation."

He couldn't tell if the man was joking or not so he summed it up to the fact that there was definitely a body in there. Stiles feels his next teasing remark falls from his lips before he can stop himself.

"Compensating for something, Peter?"

Oh shit.

Stiles practically shrinks in his seat, fumbling for the seat belt as the words escape. He expects a glare, maybe even a smooth punch to the face as he speaks but instead, Peter turns to him and practically purrs out: "Trust me, I find myself lacking very few things in life but if you're so curious..."