Becoming A True Alpha (Teen Wolf)

Chapter 9: The Legend That Is Lydia Martin

"Seems like he really trusts you." He adds, snidely. "So, why can't you just use your supernatural strength to break the lock, being that you're a werewolf and all?"

I let my gaze fall to the floor, not proud of what I have to say next, "I can't break the lock or he'll find out I was here. That's why-that's why..." I can't find the words to finish.

"That's why, what?" There is a hint of enjoyment that hinges on his words. Stiles wasn't going to help until I finished the sentence.

"That's why I need your help."

I can practically picture the boy's face beaming with a wide grin as he answers, "Alright, I will find a way to unlock the door. I'll be at your apartment in ten minutes."

The line goes dead before I have the chance to respond.

I pace nervously across the living room floor, until it's possible to permanently burn my tracks into the floorboards. Any minute Kali or Ennis could walk through that door and the weeks of trying to convince them that I am apart of this pack would be for nothing.

Then a single knock on the door comes, echoing through the apartment like a gun shot.

Jogging to the front door, I don't bother to look through the peep hole before grabbing the knob and yanking it open. In front of me stands Stiles, as I had expected, but behind him looms a young girl. Her fiery mass of red hair and flaring green eyes distinguishes her immediately as Lydia Martin.

Upon reflexes, I snap at Stiles, "What is she doing here?"

Lydia, with a disapproving look buried in her features, turns to leave. Stiles quickly ushers her back to his side.

She nods, allowing him to elaborate, "I told you I would find a way to unlock the door and I did." he gestures to the girl that most would expect to be as shallow as the deepest of kiddie pools. But sometimes looks could deceive. "Lydia, knows how to pick the lock."

I grunt in disapproval. This draws Lydia out from behind the protection of Stiles shadow. "Well, are you just going to stand there or are we going to have to wait until your father gets back to open the door himself?"

She shoves past me, her boney shoulder colliding with mine in the process. The girl doesn't let the pain show though, sashaying into the hallway as the flowing material of her blue dress trails behind her.

I show them the way to his office and step back to allow Lydia some space to work.

She bends down until she is laying cross-legged inches from the mahogany panel of the door.

Lydia inspects the lock, running her delicate fingers along the metal. A puzzled look crosses her face as she leans away from the brass knob and reaches for the hand-purse strapped across her torso. "That's odd. The door knob has a simple push-lock. Nothing as complicated as a deadbolt."

"So, Deucalion isn't as concerned about security as you thought?" Stiles directs the question to me but his real attention is occupied by Lydia's presence.

I kick my foot against the door frame out of sher frustration. "People are being murdered, strangled to death and my father doesn't bother to put a stronger lock on the only thing keeping his secrets safe. That doesn't make sense."

Lydia doesn't seemed too concerned as her hand emerges from her bag with a shinning, red credit card.

"How the hell is a credit card going to help?" I snap at her.

A laugh bubbles up from her throat and the sound feels like a slap to the face. I resist the urge to use her pretty red head to bash the door in myself.