"Well, I guess we're going with your plan then," Iván said.
"But hear me out—we should all meet up. I mean everyone: Derek, Scott, you, me, Stiles, and CJ. Maybe we can come up with a real plan to deal with the Alpha."
Rowan glanced around and quickly pulled them into an empty classroom.
"That actually sounds like a solid plan," Rowan said. "But there's one problem—the Alpha isn't just going to come out and play, not after what happened."
He smirked slightly. "Lucky for us, that means it's time to prepare—you've got fifteen days until the full moon."
Iván looked down, his expression clouded. It had been a week since the Lycan attacked. In that time, he had learned how to control his senses. But unlike Scott, he still couldn't get his claws to come out.
"And how exactly do you plan to hold us?" Scott asked.
"Magic, of course," Rowan replied. "But it'll drain my mana in the process."
"I'm still weirded out that magic even exists," Scott said.
"Say, Rowan, can you teach me how to use magic?" Iván asked.
Rowan laughed. "Hah! You've gotta be blessed by the sun to do that," he chuckled.
"The sun?" Iván echoed.
"Just something my dad used to say," Rowan said, scratching his head. "It basically requires a connection to mana—and that usually happens at birth."
"Oh, so that's a no for me? Damn it… would've been cool if I could," he muttered aloud.
The Moon pendant hummed in response.
"Yeah, that thing's weird," Rowan said, pointing at it. "But let's all agree—tomorrow, we meet up."
They all nodded in agreement and went their separate ways as the bell rang for class.
Iván walked into his fifth-period class without delay, slipping into a seat at the very back. He half-listened to the teacher, his mind already drifting elsewhere.
Okay… what have I learned so far?
Derek said most werewolves prefer to fight in their transformed state, since they're faster and stronger that way.
And during the full moon, their powers spike. That's when they're at their most dangerous. Even other supernaturals tend to hide on those nights.
That's what he told me, anyway.
Taking that into account… that's probably when the Alpha will make its move.
Then there's me and Scott—rookies. The weakest links.
If it really wants to kill me, I'd be the perfect bait.
"Iván!"
He blinked, snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh? Yes, Mr. Carr?"
The class burst into laughter.
"I was talking to you," the teacher said, arms crossed.
"Oh—uh, sorry. What was the question again?"
"How about next time you pay attention and take out your textbook when I ask the whole class?" Mr. Carr said sharply. "If you're not going to focus, maybe a trip to the principal's office is in order."
"Wait—no! I'm sorry!" Iván quickly pulled his textbook out from under his desk and sighed.
He leaned over and whispered to the girl next to him, "What page?"
"118," she replied.
Iván nodded and opened the book.
Mr. Carr gave him a stern look but let it slide. "Don't let it happen again," he warned before returning to the lesson.
Iván exhaled and leaned back in his chair.
Now, where was I? he thought. Right—bait.
The idea of using himself as bait didn't sit well with him. It felt reckless… but maybe it was their best option. Still, just a thought for now.
Suddenly, a phone rang, breaking his focus. He glanced around but quickly realized the sound was coming from Mr. Carr's pocket.
Super hearing… right.
Then he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. He could feel the strength pulsing through his muscles.
Then a flood of scents rushed into his nose—so many different smells all at once. It was too much. His head throbbed.
Right. Control. I need to focus.
Closing his eyes, he took one steady breath. Slowly, everything began to settle—the noise, the scents, the pounding in his head all faded away.
He opened his eyes and refocused on the lesson, like any other student trying to get their education.
Soon, the school day ended, and he walked over to his locker, entering his combination.
He opened his backpack and shoved the textbooks inside—there was no way in hell he was taking them with him.
Then he heard footsteps behind him—light as a feather, carrying the scent of vanilla.
He turned and closed his locker.
"Oh, hey Olivia. How are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm doing alright," she said, struggling to hold all her textbooks.
He tilted his head. "Want me to help you?"
"Yes, please," she replied.
Iván took the heavy load of books from her arms, and she gave him a grateful smile in return.
"Say, where's your sister?" Iván asked as they walked outside the school grounds.
"She's watching Scott play lacrosse," Olivia replied.
Iván's eyes narrowed. "Scott? Playing lacrosse? Seriously? He could at least play in a sport that might actually get him a scholarship," he sighed.
"No matter—I'll save him from that awful sport."
She let out a small giggle as they approached the parking lot. And there leaning against a black SUV stood Chris Argent, watching his daughter and Iván with a sharp gaze.
Iván noticed the glare and felt a chill run down his spine. He made a mental note to remember to stay far away from the Argents.
He wasn't about to end up like Scott—figured out, cornered, and locked in some room getting poisoned.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Iván spoke up quickly as they approached, not wanting Chris to get the wrong idea.
"Hello, sir, I'm Olivia's friend—I was just helping her with her textbooks."
"I see," Chris said. The intense look in his eyes faded as he opened the car door and took the books from Iván.
"Hey, Iván," Chris added with a sudden smile, "how about I invite you to dinner as a thank-you?"
"Dad!" Olivia said, flustered.
Iván, however, felt every red flag in his body go off. He quickly came up with a lie—though, to be fair, it wasn't entirely untrue.
"Thank you, sir, but I've got dinner plans with my family," he said quickly, giving a polite wave. "See you later, Olivia!"
Without waiting for a response, he dashed off, crossing the street without looking. Car horns blared as drivers slammed their brakes, honking at him in frustration.
Chris Argent noticed his nervousness, quietly making a note of it. then he glanced at his youngest daughter.
"You don't like him, do you? Because if you do, I'll grab my rifle and shoot him on the spot."
Olivia's face turned bright red as she quickly waved her hands. "No! I don't! We're just friends!"
"Good," Chris said calmly. "Let's go home."