Stella Argent - Stiles Stilinski

Chapter 25

"Hey, you know, that's funny. I've actually tried something like this one time using a heart monitor and lacrosse balls. But you're right, beating the living crap out of him is probably a lot better," Stiles commented sarcastically.

"That's actually the plan? You kick my ass?" Scott asked with blood dripping from his face.

"You're afraid to turn," Aiden spat at him.

"We're gonna make you. You turn. Then you kick our asses," Ethan smiled.

"Oh, can I join in on that part?" I smirked at them, but they rolled their eyes and continued with Scott.

"And then you roar," Ethan roared with his blue eyes glowing, demonstrating the power of an Alpha. I realized that's what Deaton meant by "breaking part of them."

"You don't think you can let go with us?" Aiden pushed Scott around.

"You think you're going to hurt us?" Ethan continued.

"Come on, McCall. Give it your all," Aiden encouraged as he punched Scott, who groaned in pain.

"What if I can't control it? What if I can't turn back?" Scott spat blood, worried about losing control.

"Then it takes over. You become Malia. You get further and further away from being human. You turn into an animal. Or worse," Ethan explained as they continued to push Scott to his limits.

"You turn into Peter," Aiden added before punching Scott again. Ethan stepped in and pulled Aiden away.

The sight of Scott getting beaten and the sound of his painful groans were difficult to bear. I mumbled "Aiden," trying to get their attention and put a stop to the brutal beating.

Ethan, looking at me, grabbed Aiden's shoulder, "What? I thought we were helping him."

"You help too much," I stated firmly, conveying my concern for Scott's well-being.

We all turned our attention back to Scott, who had spit out blood and was clearly suffering. It was a harsh reminder of the lengths they were willing to go to in order to help him regain control of his wolf side.

The whole crew had gathered deep in the woods, facing a dilemma that seemed increasingly complicated by the moment. Lydia's concerned voice broke the silence.

"Anyone else think we might be doing more harm than good?" she asked, her brow furrowed with worry.

Scott, always the one with a clear sense of purpose, replied, "We're trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter."

Isaac, never one to miss a chance to add a layer of complexity, chimed in, "Actually, we're trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote who is actually his daughter, who we don't know how to change from a coyote back to his daughter." He looked at the group, earning an eye-roll from someone.

Stiles muttered, "And again with the not helping."

Scott, ignoring the banter, turned to Allison with a sense of urgency. "Did you bring it?" he asked, referring to a gun.

Allison pulled out the gun and displayed it to the group. Just as they were about to proceed, multiple gunshots echoed through the woods. Stiles grabbed his phone and made a frantic call to his father. However, Scott, fueled by determination, hopped onto his motorcycle without waiting for any more information.

"Wait, wait. Wait! Wait!" Stiles yelled after Scott, but it was too late. Scott had already sped off.

Stiles, left behind, muttered, "It took the doll again? What the hell is so important about this doll?" He hung up the phone, frustration evident in his voice.

The group divided as Allison, Isaac, and Lydia set off to find Mr. Tate.

Stiles pondered aloud, "All right, but why would it go all the way to the school and then all the way back to the house just for a doll? One that was in the car wreck in the first place. We didn't find it in the coyote den."

I shrugged, uninterested in the doll's significance. "It likes the doll. Who cares?"

Stiles, ever the investigator, persisted, "It likes the doll a lot."

"What kind of doll is it?" I asked, showing some curiosity.

Stiles fished out a picture of the doll and showed it to me. "I don't know. It's a doll, you know. It's got little arms, a big baby head and dead, soulless eyes. Actually, I took a pic."

I pointed at the little girl in the picture with a blue jacket on. "That's Malia?"

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, that's the jacket and the scarf we found in the den."

I pointed out, "Stiles, she's not holding the doll."

Stiles suddenly realized, "That's Malia's younger sister. It's her doll."

Now we had a clearer understanding of the situation. While walking, I accidentally triggered a concealed animal trap, causing panic to rise.

"Stiles?" I mumbled, my voice trembling.

He turned to me urgently and then focused on my foot.

"Stella, don't move," he told me, his tone serious.

I couldn't help but add a touch of sarcasm to my response, "Oh, really? I thought I was going for a run."

Stiles sighed, clearly exasperated. "Now's not the time for jokes."

"Okay, sorry. Um, look for a warning label," I suggested, trying to remain calm.

"A warning label?" Stiles questioned in confusion.

"Instructions on how to disarm it," I clarified.

Stiles grumbled about the absurdity of finding instructions on the bottom of a trap, but he still looked for them. I fought back tears as I continued to be trapped.

"Stella, we've got a problem," Stiles admitted, his frustration mounting.

"What, Stilinski?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"I can't read either," Stiles confessed, a tear welling up in his eye.

Despite my fear, I tried to boost his confidence. "You don't need the instructions. When was the last time you've ever used instructions? Am I right? You don't need them because you're too smart to waste your time with them, okay? You can figure it out. Stiles, you're the one who always figures it out. So you can do it. Figure it out."

Stiles, with newfound determination, started working on the trap, unscrewing some parts. I remained completely still, afraid to even breathe.

"Okay, here we go. Ready?" Stiles began to pull back a lever. I held my breath.

"Your going to move in 3..2..1," Stiles counted down.

I moved quickly, narrowly avoiding the trap as it clamped shut. Our eyes locked for a moment until the sound of roaring through the woods broke the tension.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Stiles yelled, his relief palpable as we faced the next challenge together.