Grabbing his bag, Iván quickly dashed out of the classroom, weaving through students as he rushed toward the front of the school.
There, leaning against a sleek black Camaro, stood Derek Hale, arms crossed.
"C'mon, kid. Let's go," Derek said, nodding toward the car.
Iván jumped in, and they sped off.
"Don't worry about your sister," Derek added. "She's… alright."
"So, where are we going?" Iván asked, glancing over.
"To my place," Derek replied, eyes focused on the road as they drove into the distance.
Derek stopped the car. "We walk from here."
They made their way into the woods, silence lingering between them until Derek finally spoke.
"You seem to be in a better mood."
"I am, actually," Iván said with a small smile. "I talked to someone… and I've decided I'm going to try playing soccer."
Derek glanced at him.
"With the strength and speed you've got now, you'll have an edge. But if you don't learn control?" He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"You'll lose it when it matters most. Master it… and you'll be the best player out there."
Iván nodded as they came to a stop in front of a half-burned house.
"What happened here?" Ivan asked.
"There was a fire. My uncle was the only one who made it out," Derek said flatly. "But we're not here to talk about the past."
He turned to Iván, his tone sharpening.
"You're a werewolf. And when the full moon hits, you'll shift—whether you want to or not. It'll hurt like hell. Pain like you've never felt before."
"But it's only the first time. After that… you learn to handle it. Or it handles you."
It wasn't something Iván was looking forward to. Just thinking about it sent a chill down his spine.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed through the woods.
Derek turned, his voice calm but firm. "Ah—Scott. You made it."
Scott stepped forward, tense. "I'm only here because you said there might be a way to fix this… maybe even a cure."
Derek raised an eyebrow. "Still clinging to that hope?"
Iván blinked, confused. "Huh?"
Derek shot him a wink, saying nothing.
Scott shrugged. "I have to try. I just got a date with a girl I really like… and I don't want this to ruin everything."
What the hell is going on? And why is he here? Iván thought.
And then—loud footsteps, fast chatter—came Stiles, bursting onto the scene in all his chaotic glory.
"Okay, first of all—who the hell is the kid? Your secret love child, Derek?"
Derek rolled his eyes. "No, Stiles. This is Iván. Like Scott, he's also a werewolf."
Stiles stared at Iván. "Wait a minute… I've seen you before. Scott, isn't this the guy at the cafeteria?
"Yeah," Scott said, eyes narrowing. "You were bitten too?"
"No," Iván shook his head. "I wasn't bitten."
Derek stepped in. "He's not like Scott. Iván was born into it—comes from a werewolf bloodline."
Stiles raised both hands dramatically. "Great. Just great. What's next, Derek? You're gonna tell me there's an entire werewolf family having barbecues under the full moon?"
Derek deadpanned, "Yes, Stiles. There are actual werewolf families."
Stiles muttered under his breath, "Awesome. I should've just stayed home…"
"Now, the reason I brought you here today is simple," Derek said, his tone firm.
"The three of us—we're wolves. And out there is an Alpha. A powerful one. But without a pack, we have a chance to overwhelm it."
He turned to Scott. "You're his Beta. He tried to control you once—he'll try again."
"Your first step is learning to control yourself during the full moon. And unlike the movies, we can shift whenever we want."
Derek looked over at Stiles.
"Stiles."
"Yeah, Derek?"
"Get the chains ready. You're going to tie Scott down during the full moon."
Scott groaned. "Seriously?"
Then Iván stepped forward. "And me?"
Derek gave a short chuckle. "Chains won't hold you. Not even close. But as long as you're wearing that—" he pointed to Iván's necklace, "—you'll stay somewhat in control. So with enough willpower, your job will be to get as far from Beacon Hills as possible."
"Wait—how come he doesn't need chains?" Scott asked, clearly annoyed.
"Well, you see," Derek began, glancing at Iván, "born werewolves have an edge over you Bitten types. We can fully shift into wolves—twice the size of normal ones—and we can communicate telepathically in that form… but only when we're close to each other."
He turned back to Scott. "As for you—you need to accept what you are first. That's step one."
"Yeah, well… that's not gonna happen," Scott muttered, looking away.
"Yup, I'm out," Stiles cut in, already turning to leave.
"Wait—where are you going?" Scott called after him.
"Did you not hear the man? Giant wolves! I'm just a fragile human bean, Scott. I'm basically a squeaky toy in a house full of pit bulls! I'm going to Alaska."
"There are vampires in Alaska, Stiles," Derek added dryly.
Stiles froze. "Wait… what the actual—WHAT?!"
I don't blame him for panicking, Iván thought, Derek had mentioned vampires before, but there was so much to take in… I was completely overwhelmed.
He turned to Derek.
"Hey, Derek… these vampires—are they actually enemies to werewolves? Like in the movies?"
Derek nodded slightly.
"Yeah, for the most part. There's usually bad blood—no pun intended. But the truth is, I've only ever heard about them. Never met one myself."
Iván looked out at the trees, a heavy sigh escaping him.
"Man… the world's really messed up, isn't it?"
Stiles scoffed.
"You're telling me? I'm the only human here. No claws, no fangs—just pure sarcasm and anxiety keeping me alive."
"Alright, enough talk," Derek said, stepping forward. "Scott, I want you to fight me."
Scott blinked. "What? I'm not fighting you."
Derek tilted his head with a smirk. "Oh no? What about Allison, then? Think she'd be happy if I showed up at her house for a chat?"
"Stop it." Scott growled.
"Not enough."
Stiles quickly backed away, moving toward Iván. "Yeah, I'm just gonna… step over here. Safer by the new kid." Then he added with a grin, "C'mon, Scotty—let that anger out. Or do you want me to tell Allison what you really are?"
With a sharp breath, Scott snapped.
His eyes flared gold. Fangs extended from his mouth, claws pushed through his fingertips, and his ears sharpened to a point.
"There we go," Derek muttered, shrugging off his jacket. He cracked his neck and his face twisted—eyes glowing a piercing blue.
Iván watched, wide-eyed.
Wait—why are his eyes blue?
Then the clash began. Fangs, claws, speed. Scott lunged, but Derek was faster, more controlled. They exchanged blows until Derek slammed him down and pinned him with ease.
"Lesson one," Derek growled, holding Scott down. "Control your anger. Or it'll control you."