Outside Beacon Hills High, the air felt colder than usual—too quiet, too still. The school loomed like a haunted relic beneath the fading light, shadows clinging to its walls like ghosts. But what was even more unsettling was Derek's glare—sharp, stormy, and barely restrained.
"What the hell were you two thinking?" Derek growled, his voice low and edged with fury. "Fighting. In front of humans."
A beat of silence. Then—
"Hey!" Stiles snapped, raising his hand. "You say that like I'm not human!"
"I'm not counting you, Stiles," Derek said, barely sparing him a glance.
Scott and Iván exchanged an uneasy look, then both turned toward the courtyard where Rowan had vanished minutes ago, muttering something about "setting up the circle."
"Well… it was Rowan's idea," they said together, voices sheepish.
Derek took a sharp step forward, and even the air seemed to pull tight.
"I don't care whose idea it was. You're not kids—you think for yourselves," he hissed, his eyes flashing. "And now you're using the school as bait?
Before either could respond, a new voice rang.
"Scott is his beta, right?"
They turned. Iván's mother stood there, calm but dangerous—shotgun in hand, eyes sharp. "He could make decent bait."
Scott's eyes widened at her words. "Wait—are you a teacher here? How did you even get mixed up in all this?"
"Now's not the time," she snapped, pumping the shotgun with a sharp click-clack. "All you need to know is this—either way, this Alpha is going down. By our hands."
She stepped forward, her gaze cold and unwavering.
"If this reaches their ears," she added darkly, "you know exactly what happens next."
There was a pause—tense, loaded.
Derek's jaw clenched. "Their ears," he repeated slowly, as if tasting the weight of it.
"Wait," Stiles said, his voice cracking. "Who's you talking about?"
Derek stayed silent, but the weight of the question hung heavy.
Daniela paused, frustration flashing in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to smack her own forehead.
She had assumed Derek knew—trusted him with her son. Clearly, that was a mistake.
"So… you really don't know," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
Then she looked up, eyes sharp.
"Fine. I'll be clear."
She turned to Derek, her tone sharpening. "You mentioned the government once—when you were talking to my son. But the truth is, the government doesn't work alone. They've been in quiet alliance with the Volturi for decades."
Scott, Iván and Stiles froze. Even Derek tensed.
"The Volturi," Daniela continued, "are an ancient vampire council. Cold, calculating, and very real. My late husband… worked with them. Helped keep your kind"—she pointed to Derek, and then to the others—"off the chopping block."
"They fear you," she said darkly. "Werewolves—especially under the full moon, especially in packs. Anything that can't be controlled."
Her voice dropped lower, more serious.
"If they haven't heard about these killings yet, they will. And if they have…"
She let the silence hang in the air like a loaded gun.
Iván's mind raced. The Volturi? Like vampires? Wait…
His thoughts flashed back to the gym. The guy he fought—Tommy. His eyes. His strength.
Was he… a vampire?
No. He hadn't looked like the one who attack him. But something had been off. Way off.
And now, the idea that forces bigger than any of them were watching—or worse, hunting—was sinking in fast.
"Great," Stiles muttered, barely above a whisper. "So we're on someone's supernatural watchlist."
Iván stood in silence, thoughts racing. She mentioned Dad keeping them off the chopping block…
That could only mean one thing—he was either powerful, respected, or maybe both.
Iván wanted to ask more, press her for answers, but now wasn't the time. Not with the air this tense… and the danger this close.
"Iván, come on," his mother called, already walking ahead.
He followed her, the weight of her words still lingering in his mind. They moved deeper into the school's empty halls—long, silent, and dimly lit. Each step echoed unnaturally, the air thick with unease.
Something about the way the shadows clung to the walls made Iván's skin crawl. This place didn't feel like a school anymore.
It felt like something was watching.
Iván looked at his mother—her sharp brown eyes, dark hair bouncing slightly with each step. She wasn't wearing heels this time, just practical shoes. Her outfit was dark, tactical, with shotgun shells strapped around her and a Desert Eagle holstered at her side. She looked ready for war.
"Mom…" he began, voice low. "Dad… is he dead?"
He'd asked himself that question in a hundred ways over the years. When his father disappeared, Iván had cried himself to sleep night after night, hoping he'd walk through the door again. But deep down, a part of him had always feared the worst.
His mother stopped, turning to him. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Yes," she said softly.
The word hit like a bullet.
"He… he loved you and your sister more than anything. So much that he kept his life—the danger of it—far away from you. But…" she hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the shadows at the end of the hall, "the wolves will need you now."
Iván blinked. The wolves?
He didn't understand what she meant.
Not yet.
But none of that mattered right now. She had confirmed it—his dad was gone. Truly gone.
The weight of it hit him all at once, and he threw his arms around his mother, clinging to her like he had when he was small.
Tears streamed down his face, his nose running as he buried it into her shoulder.
She held him just as tightly, her own tears falling in silence.
But their moment didn't last.
The school's PA system crackled to life and then, a low, echoing howl tore through the halls. It wasn't just sound—it was a call. A desperate one.
Both Iván and his mother froze.
He didn't know how he knew, but he did. Scott.
And that howl, it was a cry for help.
"Ese idiota…" his mom muttered under her breath. That idiot.
"Well, there goes our plan," she added, switching back to English, eyes already scanning the dark hallway ahead, body tense.
Derek came sliding into the hallway, eyes wild with urgency.
"Where the hell is Scott?!" he growled. "We need to move—now!"
But before anyone could answer, a loud crash echoed from the other side of the school—followed by startled screams.
It wasn't just anyone.
"Humans…" Derek muttered, his expression darkening. Then he caught the scent.
"Girls." He clenched his fists. "I swear to God, I'm going to kill Scott."