Kanima - The Witch Series Vol.2 - Teen Wolf Fanfiction - Derek Hale x OC

2.1.1. Omega

February 19, 2011 - Saturday

The doors to the hospital ward creaked open with a barely audible groan, admitting Stiles and Scott into the room. The space was dominated by the steady hum and beeping of various medical devices. They crouched down to ensure no one from the hallway outside could see them. The skinny one stumbled clumsily, his back colliding with the wall with a muted thud.

"Close the door," whispered the young werewolf, his face etched with concern, his voice barely audible.

The Sheriff's son reached for the handle, which squeaked under his touch, emitting a sound that seemed unnervingly loud in the medical silence filled only with murmurs and whispers. He furrowed his brow in frustration and pushed the door again. The hinges groaned, seeming to echo down the corridor, but no one heard it except them. The skinny one tried again, this time with even more delicacy than before, but the result was the same. The slower and more cautiously Stiles tried to close the door, the louder it protested. Finally, it struck against the frame, and the teenager quickly turned the lock.

"What?" he asked, turning to his friend and seeing the black-haired boy staring at him with disbelief and concern.

The werewolf only shook his head and approached the bed where Lydia lay. She was breathing heavily, but her face was no longer obscured by the oxygen mask. They hoped this signaled an improvement in her condition.

"Do it," urged the skinny one, his voice trembling with tension.

"You do it," the werewolf replied with determination.

"I can't, I'm too worried," Stiles admitted, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

Scott hesitated, looking around the room, glancing out the window into the corridor, and when he was sure they were completely alone, he approached the girl and gently grasped the corners of the bandage wrapped around her waist, being careful not to cause her pain. The Sheriff's son, unable to bear the sight of blood, averted his gaze but noticed the surprise on Scott's face.

"Is she healed?" Stiles asked, unable to hide his frustration at his friend's silence.

"No... Not at all," the werewolf replied quietly, trying to understand what he was seeing.

The wound was red and slightly swollen, but it wasn't bleeding. It also showed no signs of the rapid healing characteristic of werewolves.

"I don't understand. The doctors said she'd be fine," Stiles expressed his surprise in an uncertain tone.

"The bite doesn't heal like mine. It means she's not a werewolf," Scott explained.

"Then what the hell is she?"

Scott shook his head, expressing his ignorance and astonishment. Like his friend, he was convinced that a werewolf bite would either turn someone or kill them. Meanwhile, Lydia's body behaved as if she hadn't been bitten by an Alpha.

The boys, focused on the wound on the girl's side, didn't notice her eyes moving beneath her eyelids, faster and faster. She was dreaming something.

***

Victoria gently set her phone down on the stone countertop of the kitchen island, and the light streaming from the elegant, pendant lamps above reflected off her troubled face. The darkness of the night, which had previously served as little more than a backdrop to her conversation with her husband, suddenly felt denser and more oppressive.

"They're coming in two days," she declared, her voice calm yet carrying the weight of unease with every word. Her husband, Chris, stood by the window, holding a glass of whiskey. He seemed relaxed, but the tension in his eyes, gazing out into the darkened street, was evident. The newspaper he had been reading moments ago lay open on the kitchen counter. From its pages, his sister's photo looked up at him, placed just beneath the headline: "Woman Suspected of Arson Six Years Ago, Guilty of Recent Murders?"