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Octavia, Scott, and Stiles pressed their bodies against the door, fighting to keep the Alpha out. Every tremor, every noise around them seemed amplified, each sound reverberating in Ocativa's mind. The memory of what had just happened- how the Alpha's claws had sunk deep into the back of Derek's neck, the sickening spurt of blood from his mouth before he'd been tossed against the brick exterior- played over and over, almost like an echo she couldn't silence.

"Lock it! Lock it!" Her brother's voice broke through her panic.

"Do I look like I have a key?" Stiles shot back, his sarcasm cracking through the fear.

"Grab something!" Scott's voice was sharper, teetering on the edge of a shout.

"Like what?" Octavia's voice shook as she held onto the door handle with every ounce of strength.

"Anything!" Scott's desperation seeped into her, only increasing her sense of urgency.

Octavia's instincts, those unexplainable senses she didn't fully understand, kicked in. She could feel an intense, predatory presence just beyond the door, but oddly, there was no movement. "If the Alpha wanted in, he'd already be here," she said, feeling a strange certainty settle over her, even as her heartbeat pounded.

Stilles, suddenly still, seemed to realize it, too. He stood slowly, peering through the narrow window. His gaze landed on the bolt cutters left outside. For a beat, he stared, then moved toward the door, purpose sharpening his movements.

"What are you doing?" Octavia hissed, panic rising in her tone. She and Scott had already followed his gaze, knowing precisely what Stiles was about to do. "No," they both pleaded.

"Yes." He replied, shoving the flashlight into Scott's arms.

"Stiles Stilinski, I swear, if you get yourself killed-" Her words died as he slipped through the door, and her heart jumped to her throat.

Outside, Stiles moved quickly, his eyes darting through the dark parking lot. The Alpha emerged from the shadows on all fours, a low growl rumbling as it fixed its gaze on Stiles. Scott saw it first, pounding on the glass as a warning. Heart racing, Octavia stood frozen, her senses overwhelmed by the proximity of something so dark, so predatory- it was almost like she could feel the Alpha's intent, and its total weight crashed into her.

Stiles grabbed the bolt cutters, and the Alpha charged; he slipped back inside, bolting the doors with the cutters just as the creature slammed into them, rattling the hinges.

Octavia could barely breathe. Anger simmered in her chest as she stood beside her brother, eyes still darting to Stiles, safe but flushed with terror. A cold, creeping sensation swept over her- unsure if it was her fear or the Alpha's lurking presence.

Scott spoke, jarring her back. "Where is it?" They peered through the window, Stiles aiming the flashlight into the vast emptiness beyond. Everything felt tense, still, like the calm before the storm.

"That won't hold, will it?" Scott's voice held an edge of desperation.

"Probably not." He replied grimly, his face paling in the dim light.

The three exchanged glances, and a silent understanding passed between them at the sound of a howl: they had to keep moving. They sprinted down the darkened hall, shadows stretching across the walls as they plunged deeper into the school's labyrinth. The silence pressed around them, but every few steps, Octavia felt it- a thrum of something darker and angry, hunting them.

They ducked into a classroom, shoving a desk toward the door with a loud screech. Octavia's breath quickened, and her nerves shot. "Stop," she said, her tone firmer than she'd intended. Both boys looked up, startled by her intensity. "A desk isn't going to stop that thing," she whispered, trying to steady her voice. We need a real plan."

Scott hesitated, his body still tense against the desk. "I know."

"It's your boss." Stiles spoke, voice low but definite.

"What?" Scott asked in confusion.

"Deaton? The Alpha? Your boss." Stiles replied.

"No." Scott declared.

"Yes! Murdering psycho werewolf."

"That can't be."

Octavia felt a strange certainty tug at her—an instant, something she couldn't fully name. "It's not him," she said, shaking her head slowly. Stiles looked at her, eyes flashing with doubt.

"Oh, come on. He disappears, and that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek twenty feet through the air? That's not convenient timing?"

She locked eyes with him, willing him to understand something she couldn't articulate. "It's. Not. Him," she insisted, feeling a surge of anger, both her own and some dark undercurrent she couldn't explain.

Stiles looked between her and Scott, exasperated. "Can you use your brain for five seconds?" he snapped, frustration bleeding into his voice. "He killed Derek.

"No, Derek's not dead," Scott stated. "He can't be dead."

Stiles scoffed. "Blood spurted out of his mouth, okay? That doesn't exactly qualify as a minor injury. He's dead, and we're next."

"So what's the plan? Make a run for your Jeep and hope we somehow see tomorrow?" Octavia bit out, sarcasm laced with tension.

"And Scott seriously thinks about quitting his job," Stiles muttered, inching them closer to the window. Scott tried to yank it open, only to be met with resistance. "No, they don't open. The school's climate-controlled."

"Then we break it," Scott said, his urgency edging into desperation.

"Which will make a shit ton of noise," Octavia added, her voice low but intense, her pulse quickening as she tried to sense the Alpha's next move.

"Then..." Scott trailed off, scanning the parking lot. "Then we run really fast. Really fast."

"Yeah, no, I don't run."

"Uh, you will if you want to live!" Stiles hissed.

"Stiles, what's wrong with the hood of your Jeep?" Scott asked. Octavia leaned in, feeling her stomach drop. Something about the sight of the twisted metal felt wrong, almost sinister, and she knew the Alpha's presence was already much closer than they'd realized.

"What do you mean?" Stiles inquired defensively. "Nothing's wrong-"

"It's bent," Scott informed him, his tone edged with confusion.

"Like, dented?" Stiles pressed, his usual bravado wavering as he leaned closer to see over Scott's shoulder.

"No, I mean bent."

"What the hell?"

The three of them were silent, holding their breath. Then, with a sudden, deafening crash, something hit the window, rattling the glass in its frame. They staggered back as a dark object slid to the floor, echoing through the room's stillness.

"That's my battery," Stiles said, a mix of shock and anger coloring his tone as he pointed to the object. He moved as if to approach it, but Octavia's hand gripped his arm.

"Don't move," she hissed, her voice taut with an edge of fear she could barely suppress. She could feel the Alpha's fury, dark and violent energy radiating from the other side of the wall, as if it were targeting them, one by one.

"He could be right outside."

"He is right outside," Octavia said in exasperation. Stiles's mouth opened to argue, but Octavia cut him off. "Without that battery, we're stranded in here. We can't afford to mess this up."

Scott's eyes flicked from the battery on the floor to the shadowed parking lot beyond, his own anxiety mirroring hers. "Just... let me take a look," he said, slowly rising from his crouch, careful to keep himself low. He leaned up just enough to peek out the window, his face pale in the dim light.

"Anything?" Stiles whispered, his voice barely audible.

Scott shook his head, still crouched. "No. Nothing."

Octavia scanned the darkened room around them, her senses attuned to every sound, every shadow. She could almost feel the Alpha's intentions pressing in, an oppressive weight that made her want to flee yet forced her to stay grounded. Something in her told her they were only a step ahead of the Alpha's next move.

Stiles turned to her, eyes wide. "Move now?" His voice was a barely contained whimper.

Octavia exchanged a quick look with Scott. "Move now," she agreed, her mind already churning with ways they might outsmart whatever was lurking outside, though the pit of dread in her stomach told her the Alpha might be several steps ahead.

The trio crept through the dim halls of the school, the air heavy with silence. Octavia kept looking over her shoulder, sensing something that chilled her to the core. Her heart was pounding, but she couldn't tell if it was fear of the Alpha—or something else. Each step echoed down the seemingly endless hallway until they pushed into the boys' locker room, one of the few places in the school with no windows.

Scott and Stiles argued quietly, and Octavia tried to shake off the lingering feeling that they were being watched. Before she knew it, she was shoved into an empty locker just as the night janitor rounded the corner.

They scrambled to escape when the janitor was yanked backward, vanishing from sight. They bolted down the hall, but the closest exit was blocked by two dumpsters. Stiles desperately grabbed the door handle, rattling it until Scott had to pull him away.

"I'm not dying here. I'm not dying at school," Stiles declared, his voice laced with panic. He looked at Octavia, almost like he was trying to reassure himself that she was still there beside him.

"We're not going to die!"

"God, what is he doing?" Stiles whined. "What does he want?"

"Me." Scott sighed.

"That's a little presumptuous," Octavia muttered, her words masked by her quickening heartbeat. Scott shot her a look but didn't respond. Her sarcasm only thinly masked her terror.

"Derek says it's stronger with a pack."

"Oh, great," Stiles said sarcastically. "A psychotic werewolf who's into teamwork. That's, that's beautiful."

They turned toward the window, and Scott pointed out the figure looming on the roof. The Alpha's eyes glowed in the darkness, a silent, menacing challenge. They stood transfixed until it lunged, hurtling towards them. They ran, each footfall filled with dread as if the darkness was alive and waiting to devour them.

Octavia's skin was prickled with the familiar feeling—a warning, a pulsing fear—but the urgency of the situation demanded her focus elsewhere. Scott led them to the basement, and they hid behind a row of rusted lockers. The Alpha's glowing eyes flickered through the cracks, and they held their breath as Scott gestured to move in the opposite direction.

"All right, we have to do something," Stiles whispered, his hand tightening around Octavia's wrist as if anchoring her to reality.

"Like what?" Scott asked, his voice lower than his friend's.

"I don't know. Kill it, hurt it, inflict mental anguish on it...Something."

Octavia stifled a laugh, a nervous release of tension. Just as she was about to retort, a sharp, ominous sound of shattering glass echoed through the hall.

Stiles dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys, lifting them slightly to get the Alpha's attention.

"What are you-" Octavia was cut off by Stiles shushing her.

He threw them into a nearby storage unit in one smooth motion, then pushed his friends back. The Alpha barreled toward the noise, its growls reverberating through the room. They slammed the door, pushing a desk in front of it as the creature thrashed on the other side.

Relieved, Octavia threw her arms around Stiles. "I could kiss you right now, you beautiful, buzzcut-having genius."

Stiles blinked, caught off guard. His usual quick wit failed him as he stammered, "Really?"

Scott caught the exchange and raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Stiles' arm around Octavia a beat too long. But before anyone could process it, the Alpha rammed the door with a force that rattled the walls.

"Come on, get across. Come on!"

"What?" Scott hesitated, looking through the small window to the storage unit before climbing across the desk. Stiles hesitated for a moment before slowly moving towards the door. "What are you doing?"

"I just wanna get a look at it," Stiles replied.

"Are you crazy?" Scott retorted incredulously.

"Look, it's trapped, okay?" Stiles tried to justify. "It's not gonna get out."

"Then we should focus on getting ourselves out!" Octavia hissed, looking at him like he was the craziest person alive because, at this point, he must be. "If that thing gets out of there, we're screwed."

Stiles ignored her comments, hopping on the desk to shine a light into the room. "Yeah, that's right, we got you..."

"Will you stop antagonizing it?" Octavia hissed.

"I'm not scared of this thing." He declared before the Alpha slammed its large clawed hand on the window, causing Stiles to jump off the table. Octavia scoffed with an eye roll. "I'm not scared of you. Right, 'cause you're in there, and we're out here. You're not going any-"

Stiles was cut off by the Alpha crashing itself through the ceiling. The trio followed the sound of its movements before running off once again.

Through the quiet halls, and thanks to his abilities as a werewolf, Scott managed to hear a phone ringing from inside the building. He informed his sister and friend that it was Allison's phone ringing, borrowed Octavia's phone to discover her location, and urged her to meet the trio in the lobby.

"Why did you come? What are you doing here?" He demanded, his voice tense.

"Because you asked me to," Allison replied in confusion.

"I asked you to?" Scott asked, equally confused.

Stiles and Octavia looked at each other worriedly as Allison displayed a text from an unknown number telling her to urgently meet him at the school. "Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this message?" She asked worriedly.

"Because I didn't."

"Did you drive here?" Stiles interrupted urgently.

"Jackson did," Allison responded.

"If Jackson's here, that means Lydia's here too," Octavia added, looking at Allison for confirmation.

"And Lucas," Allison replied, a subtle crease appearing on Octavia's forehead. Lucas? She hadn't expected him here, especially since they'd only been on a few dates. The thought sent a strange flicker of guilt and unease through her.

Before she could dwell on it, the door behind Allison creaked open, and Jackson, Lydia, and Lucas stepped in. Lucas's gaze immediately locked onto Octavia, his expression softening as he took her in. But the moment he noticed her hand intertwined with Stiles's, a muscle in his jaw clenched, his gaze hardening. He lingered closer, hovering as if to assert his presence.

"Finally! Can we go now?"

A loud thud echoed from above, drawing all eyes to the ceiling. Allison instinctively reached for Scott's hand, lacing their fingers together. The soft, intimate gesture wasn't lost on Stiles. A quick glance from him to Octavia reminded him of her hand still tightly grasped in his. The briefest of smiles passed between them, unspoken but undeniably there.

Scott's tense voice broke the moment. "Run!"

The group scattered, adrenaline kicking in as they dashed through the winding halls. Octavia's hand remained clasped in Stiles's, running as one unit. Stiles pushed open two heavy doors, Scott slamming them shut and securing the top and bottom latches.

Lucas's voice cut through the tension, strained and panicked. "What the hell is going on?"

Stiles approached the window as Scott directed the rest of the group to move furniture. "Scott, wait. Not here-"

"What was that? Scott, what was that?" Allison panicked.

"What came out of the ceiling?" Lydia added anxiously.

"Will you just help me?" He asked them. "The chairs-stack the chairs."

"Guys-" Stiles called out. His hands drifted to his side, almost reflexively, as he tried to get their attention amidst the tension tightening around them. "Can we just wait a second?"

But only Octavia turned. Her gaze held steady, cutting through the fear and the metallic shrieks of the chairs scraping the floor. And he realized she'd always made him feel like he mattered, even when he was sure he didn't. And that look- so direct, so effortlessly patient - sent an indescribable warmth up his spine. "You guys, listen to me. Can we wait for a second?"

Deciding she had enough, she placed her two fingers in her mouth and released a loud whistle, earning the attention of everyone in the group who stood in shock. She turned to Stiles, "You were saying?" She asked, her voice low and calm.

He swallowed, feeling an odd warmth in his chest. "Thanks for actually listening," he murmured, low enough for only her to hear.

Lucas's gaze darkened from a few feet away, clearly picking up on the quiet exchange. Stepping forward, he cut in, his voice sharper than usual. "Can we focus on not dying first?"

Stiles, slightly irritated, glanced at him. "Okay, nice work. Really beautiful job, everyone. Now, what should we do about the 20-foot wall of windows?" He gestured widely, sarcasm seeping into his tone.

"Can somebody please explain to me what's going on? Because I'm freaking out here. And I would like to know why." Allison said hysterically as she leaned on Scott. "Scott?"

He pushed himself away, the newcomers looking at Stiles for an answer as Scott tried to figure out what to do. "Somebody killed the janitor," Stiles said as he began to move closer to the group.

"Dude," Octavia whined, her hand gesturing exasperatedly.

"What?" Lydia asked in fear.

"Yeah, the janitor's dead," Stiles said.

"And we're probably next." Octavia added, deciding that if Stiles wasn't going to sugarcoat it, neither would she.

"What are they talking about? Is this a joke?" Allison asked with a panicked laugh.

"Who killed him?" Jackson asked, but there was no response.

"No, no, no, no..." Lydia chanted, trying to ground herself. "This was supposed to be over. The mountain lion killed-"

"No, don't you get it?" Jackson cut her off. "There wasn't a mountain lion."

Lucas stepped forward again, his expression tense and voice low. "Octavia, what's going on?" His question hung heavily, laced with anger and concern, as though he didn't quite know his place.

"What does he want?" Allison asked Scott, who still had his back turned towards the group. "What's happening? Scott!"

"I don't know." He stammered. "I just-if we go out there, he's gonna kill us."

"Us?" Lydia repeated. "He's gonna kill us?"

"Did I not just say that?." She glanced at Stiles, a darkly humorous glint in her eyes, and he felt a strange mix of dread and exhilaration at having her beside him. No one else would make a joke at a time like this." I just told you guys we're next."

"Who is he?" Luke demanded. "Why does he want to kill us."

"It's Derek." Scott lied after a moment of hesitation. Octavia and Stiles looked at him, mouths ajar in surprise. "It's Derek Hale."

"Who the hell is that?" Lucas asked, and Octavia suddenly remembered that he had nothing to do with their situation. Her stomach twisted with guilt as she looked at all her friends; all they wanted to do was hang out and be regular teenagers, not teenagers from a horror movie.

"Derek killed the janitor?" Jackson asked, hoping for clarification.

Allison shook her head in denial, "Are you sure?" She asked.

"I saw him," Scott said.

"The mountain lion-"

Scott cut Lydia off, "No, Derek killed them."

"All of them?" Allison asked.

"Yeah. Starting with his own sister."

"And the bus driver?"

"And the guy in the video store. And almost me, Jackson, and Lydia." Octavia listed grimly.

"It's been Derek the whole time," Scott said. "He's in here with us. And if we don't get out now-"

"He's going to kill us, too." Octavia cut him off with an eye roll. "We've been over this several times now."

Her eyes fixed on Stiles. "So what's the plan, then?" she pressed gently, as though she trusted he'd figure it out like she believed in him when it felt like no one else did.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but he managed a smirk. "What, you actually think I have a plan?"

Octavia raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching in a small, encouraging smile. "I think you're better at this than you realize," she said, voice quiet. There was a warmth in her words, the kind that told him she saw the fear, the worry he tried to hide and chose to believe in him anyway.

Stiles felt his pulse race, both from the situation's intensity and the way she was looking at him. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. "Guess I'll try to live up to that, then."

"Call the cops," Jackson said to Stiles.

"No," Stiles responded.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, no. You want to hear it in Spanish?" Stiles retorted before adding a Spanish accent. "No."

"Look, Derek killed three people, okay? We don't know what he's armed with." Stiles reasoned.

"Your dad is armed with an entire Sheriff's department." Jackson reminded him as Lydia rummaged through her bag. "Call him."

"I'm calling." Lydia decided.

"No, Lydia, would you just hold on a sec-" Stiles began, walking towards her.

Jackson placed his hands on Stiles to shove him away. "Do not touch him." Octavia snapped, stepping in front of Stiles and shooting Jackson a glare. "Ever. Again."

Octavia McCall never thought of herself as intimidating; behind her sarcastic quips and what Lydia had proclaimed as a resting-bitch-face, she held quite the sunny demeanor, drawing people towards her like a moth to a flame. Seeing the startled expression on Jackson's face gave her a strange amount of pleasure.

"She hung up on me," Lydia said, not facing the group as she tried to recover from the shock.

"The police hung up on you?" Allison asked.

"She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break-in at the high school. She said if I called again, they're gonna trace it and have me arrested."

"Okay, then call again."

"They won't trace a cell," Octavia interjected.

"She's right," Stiles said. "And they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here."

"What the-What-What is this?" Allison asked, burying her head in her hands. "Why does Derek want to kill us? Why is he killing anyone?"

Octavia, Scott, and Stiles exchanged silent, nervous glances with each other before registering that everyone had been looking at Scott. "Why's everyone looking at me?"

"Is he the one that sent Allison the text?" Lucas asked.

"No!" He answered quickly. "I mean, I don't know."

"Is he the one that called the police?" Allison asked.

"I don't know!" He snapped in frustration; Allison looked away immediately.

"All right, why don't we ease back on the throttle here, yeah?" Stiles pulled Octavia and Scott for a sidebar. "Okay, first off, throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done."

"I didn't know what to say. I had to say something, and if he's dead, then it doesn't matter, right?" Scott replied anxiously in a hushed whisper.

"Except if he's not," Octavia interjected because she felt he wasn't.

"Oh, God, I totally just bit her head off."

"And she'd totally get over it." Stiles placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Bigger issues at hand here- how do we get out alive?"

"Does anyone else find it weird that we're still even alive?" Octavia asked the two, her lips pursing together in frustration and anxiety. "I mean, if it wanted to, it could have killed us already. But it hasn't; it's like it's playing with its food before it eats it."

"He wants to eat us all at the same time?" Stiles retorted.

"No," Scott replied. "Derek said it wants revenge."

"Against who?"

Scott thought for a moment. "Allison's family?"

"Maybe that's what the text was about," Stiles said in realization. "Someone had to send it."

"Okay, assheads!" Jackson interrupted. "New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?"

Octavia chuckled sarcastically as she walked up to Jackson with a far too menacing smile; she leaned closer to him. "Call us assheads or the Sheriff useless one more time, and I'll leave you here for dead. Got it?" she said, voice dangerously low. Her typical smile twisted into something that made Jackson step back, clearly unnerved.

Stiles watched her, a strange sense of pride swelling within him. But Lucas's gaze sharpened an unreadable expression in his eyes. His jaw tightened, his gaze flicking from Octavia to Stiles and back, an edge of jealousy brewing beneath his usual calm demeanor.

Scott pulled Octavia back with a sigh as Stiles contemplated the idea. "He's right." Scott encouraged. "Tell him the truth if you have to. Just, just call him."

"I'm not watching my dad get eaten alive," Stiles said low enough for just Scott and Octavia to hear before looking from them to the rest of the group.

Jackson charged after him. "All right. Give me the phone." Stiles swung, punching Jackson directly in the nose.

Octavia gasped, but her eyes sparkled with pride as she watched Jackson reel back, clutching his face. "Serves you right," she muttered with a smirk, relishing the moment.

Lucas's eyes narrowed at the sight, his jealousy now clear. He took a step forward, positioning himself closer to Octavia, his protective stance making it clear he didn't appreciate the bond she shared with Stiles.

Stiles dialed his dad's number. His voice shook slightly as he left a rushed voicemail. But before he could even finish, the doors rattled, a harsh sound that sent everyone scrambling back, huddling together as they watched the door. Stiles urged everyone through the kitchen door to a staircase that only led up.

Breathless, the group stumbled into the chemistry lab, casting anxious glances around the shadowed room. Octavia surveyed the familiar space; the room she detested so much was now oddly comforting now that it meant shelter, however temporary.

Scott shoved a chair under the doorknob with a practiced force, and everyone collectively held their breath, straining to hear past the rapid beats of their hearts. The silence closed in, broken only by distant, predatory growls that drifted through the halls. Footsteps heaved unhurried as though the Alpha knew precisely where to find them, savoring the approach.

"Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?" Scott's voice was barely a whisper, tense with urgency.

"Five, if someone squeezes on someone's lap," Jackson responded.

"Five?" Allison shot back incredulously. "I barely fit in the back."

"It doesn't matter," Stiles said. "There's no getting out without drawing attention."

"And there's seven of us." Octavia voiced.

"What about this?" Scott asked, walking towards the side door, Stiles and Octavia following closely. "This leads to the roof. We can go down the fire escape to the parking lot in seconds."

"That's a deadbolt." Stiles pointed out.

Scott sighed in defeat. Octavia bit her lip, glancing around the lab. "The janitor has keys...or did, I guess."

"I can get it," Scott said lowly for the two to hear. "I can find him by scent, by blood."

"Well, gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea." Stiles quipped. "What else you got?"

"I'm getting the key." Scott decided.

"Are you serious?" Allison asked, her arms crossed as Scott approached her.

"Well, it's the best plan. Someone has to get the key if we wanna get out of here."

"You can't go out there unarmed." Allison pointed out. Scott looked around before picking up the hand pointer, testing its weight like he might be able to fend off an Alpha with a glorified stick.

"Well, it's better than nothing," Scott argued, and the rest of the group gave him incredulous glares.

"Okay." Octavia ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "We're in a chemistry lab. There has to be something better than..." She weakly gestured to the pointer. "That."

Lydia smirked, looking behind Allison at the cabinet filled with chemicals. "There is."

"What are we gonna do, throw acid on him?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"No. Like a fire bomb." She retorted. "In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail."

"Self...igniting..."

"Molotov cocktail. What? I read it somewhere."

"Lydia, you and your brilliant little mind. I could kiss you." Octavia beamed, relief flickering across her face.

Scott scoffed, muttering, "You said that about Stiles, too."

Lucas's head whipped around. "Sorry, you what?"

"I'll kiss everyone if we get out of here." She cast a glance at Scott, wrinkling her nose. "Maybe just a pat on the back for you." She then turned to Jackson, adding dryly. "You're lucky if I let you survive this."

Stiles looked at the cabinet. Lucas crossed his arms, his eyes hardening as he watched Octavia and Stiles exchange a knowing look, both of them always seeming to know what the other was thinking. The sight was enough to make his jaw clench.

"We don't have a key for that either."

Jackson sighed before thrusting his elbow into the glass and causing it to shatter.

The group clustered around Lydia, who was methodically assembling a Molotov cocktail with steady hands and sharp eyes. Octavia pressed her back against the cool chalkboard, feeling the roughness through her thin shirt. Her gaze trailed after Lydia as she requested the sulfuric acid and handed the makeshift weapon to Scott, her voice clipped and urgent.

A tense silence settled over the room, broken only by the quiet but intense argument between Scott and Allison in the corner. Octavia's eyes flicked toward them, watching Allison's face, taut with worry, as she pleaded for Scott to stay. She caught the brief flash of anguish in her brother's expression as they argued. Allison reached for Scott, pulling him into a desperate, lingering kiss before he slipped out into the hall.

The click of the door closing left a hollow echo, and the group exchanged uneasy glances. For a long beat, no one spoke, tension thickening like fog in the small, dimly lit room. Octavia held herself still, her back anchored to the chalkboard, hoping to ground herself. She clenched her fists tightly, nails digging into her palms, feeling the faint sting as she tried to focus on that one physical sensation. But her breath caught, coming in short, shallow bursts she couldn't control.

The walls of the classroom seemed to close in, narrowing her vision and blurring her surroundings. Her heart thudded in her chest, a relentless, speeding rhythm that only fueled her panic. Heat prickled under her skin, and a dark, dizzying wave washed over her, pulling her deeper into her panic. Her body felt foreign and detached. She tried to blink it away, to breathe, but her lungs wouldn't cooperate.

That's when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder, gentle but firm. "Birdie?" Stiles's voice cut through the haze, soft but laced with concern. She tried to focus, but her head spun, and lips parted, yet no words came out. She could feel her bottom lip starting to tremble, and she fought against it, but her control slipped further.

As Stiles took her aside, his touch steady and comforting, Lucas's brow furrowed from across the room. His jaw tightened as he watched Stiles lean in, his hands firm yet tender on Octavia's shoulders, grounding her in an almost... intimate way. Lucas's gaze sharpened, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he saw Octavia's breathing slowed, her trust in Stiles evident. A quiet pang settled in his chest, a simmering feeling he barely understood but couldn't shake.

Stiles moved closer, his other hand resting on her forearm, grounding her with his steady warmth. "Hey, hey, look at me," he urged, his voice calm, measured. Slowly, her eyes found his, wide and bright with worry. His thumb traced a light, reassuring line along her wrist. "There we go. Good girl. Okay, I want you to breathe with me, yeah? Just follow my lead."

Lucas's hands curled into fists, a subtle tension radiating from him. It wasn't just jealousy, not relatively. It was the feeling of being outside, watching someone else reach Octavia in a way he never thought he could. He glanced away, trying to focus on anything else—the chalk dust on his fingers, the dull hum of someone else's breath—anything that could drown out the sight of Octavia finding comfort in someone else's arms.

Stiles inhaled deeply, exaggeratedly, filling his chest, and held her gaze, nodding as he slowly exhaled, coaxing her to mirror his movements. "That's it... in... and out... Just like that. We're here, alright? Just me and you," he whispered, his tone softening.

Lucas couldn't look away any longer. His eyes darted back, following the way Stiles's hand lingered, the gentle brush of his thumb across her wrist. That small, intimate, unguarded gesture struck him with a pang he didn't want to name. And when he noticed Octavia's breathing finally evened out, her body relaxing into the space Stiles created for her, that pang sharpened. It felt raw, unwanted.

As Octavia's breathing steadied, Stiles gave her a small smile. "You're safe," he murmured. We're not going anywhere. We're all right here. Scott will be right back." He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and protective.

Their eyes met, and everything else fell away for a beat—the Alpha, the closed door, the fear that had wrapped itself around her. Lucas felt it, too, that strange sense of being forgotten, of being somehow invisible. He tried to brush it off, but the feeling lodged deep, mingling with an almost bitter jealousy. It wasn't just Stiles's presence—it was that Octavia's attention was fully, wholly on him.

Octavia's chest tightened as her panic crested. She was only vaguely aware of the others' fear until she caught Allison's pale, tense expression. Her hands trembled as she held onto herself. Across the room, Jackson had his arm protectively around Lydia, but Lydia's eyes were narrowed, darting toward the table of volatile chemicals she'd just used.

"Jackson," Lydia said, her voice low and urgent, "you handed me the sulfuric acid, right? It has to be sulfuric acid—it won't ignite if it's not

"I gave you exactly what you asked for, didn't I?" He snapped.

Lydia blinked, clearly startled by his harshness. She tried to mask her own unease, nodding quickly. "Yeah," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, "yeah, I'm sure you did."

The thick silence stretched, each of them lost in spiraling thoughts—until the echo of a guttural, animalistic growl reverberated through the building. It seemed to roll along the walls, low and chilling, freezing the group in place. The sound sent Octavia shivering, her breath catching.

Before anyone could react, Jackson's face contorted, and he dropped to his knees with a pained, strangled gasp. His hands shot to the back of his neck as he crumpled forward, and a strangled scream tore out of him. His agony was so visceral that Octavia felt a searing heat ripple across her own neck as if his pain radiated to her somehow. She clutched the back of her neck instinctively, her heart pounding wildly.

Lucas followed Lydia, his eyes wide with alarm. They each took one of Jackson's arms, trying to help him up. His skin was clammy, and his breaths came in ragged gasps.

"No, I'm fine!" Jackson protested, wrenching himself free from their grip, his hand still pressed protectively to the back of his neck. He staggered back a step, his face taut with suppressed pain. "Like, seriously—I'm okay."

"That didn't sound okay at all."

Allison said, her brow creased with concern as she kept a wary eye on Jackson, her fingers unconsciously brushing over the strap of her bag, where her weapon was stashed.

Stiles's eyes narrowed, catching a glimpse of something on Jackson's neck. "What's that on the back of your neck?" he asked, pointing to raw, scabbed marks.

Jackson smacked Stiles's hand away, glaring defensively. "I said I'm fine!"

Lydia's voice was hesitant, almost apologetic. "It's been there for days. He won't tell me what happened," she informed the group, her gaze lingering on Jackson with worry and frustration.

Jackson's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. "As if you actually care," he spat, the bitterness in his voice hitting her like a slap.

Lydia's face fell, her expression hardening, but before she could respond, Stiles interjected, "All right, can we not argue for half a second here?"

The tension in the room seemed to thicken, each casting uneasy glances toward the door, hoping for some sign of Scott's return. Octavia felt her stomach twist with anxiety as she noticed Allison's darting gaze, the way her fingers began to clench in worry.

"Where's Scott?" Allison murmured, voice tight with worry. "He should be back by now."

Suddenly, a metallic snap echoed from just outside the door, followed by the shadowed outline of a figure moving across the frosted glass. Scott's silhouette appeared, flickering in the dim light. Allison's breath hitched, and she bolted toward the door, her hands fumbling as she tried to wrench it open. But it wouldn't budge. She yanked harder, desperation tightening her movements. "Scott! Scott!" she shouted, pounding on the door as her eyes grew wild with panic.

"What's he doing?" Lucas asked, his voice high with fear. "Where's he going?"

Allison's pounding grew frantic, her palms slamming against the wood as she called out his name.

"Stop! Stop!" Lydia said, gaining everyone's attention. "Do you hear that? Listen?"

They froze, each of them straining to catch whatever Lydia had heard. In the distance, muffled and faint, the wailing of sirens pierced the stillness. The sound crept closer, growing louder. The group approached the window, peering out as the police cruisers pulled in.

As Octavia, Scott, and Stiles stepped out of the school into the cold night air, the lingering adrenaline finally began to ebb, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. Their night had been a feverish nightmare, and now, under the parking lot's floodlights, relief washed over them. Sheriff Stilinski walked with them with that skeptical yet concerned look only a father could pull off.

"You sure it was Derek Hale?" Sheriff Stilinski asked, browns drawn together in suspicion.

"Yes," Scott replied, voice firm.

"And we saw him, too," Stiles added, pointing between himself and Octavia. His voice held a subtle edge of protectiveness, as though making sure his father understood Octavia's involvement just as much as his.

"What about the janitor?" Scott asked the sheriff.

"We're still looking."

"Did you check under the bleacher? Under them?"

"Yeah, Scott, we looked. We pulled them out just like you asked. There's nothing." Stilinski huffed.

"I'm not making this up," Scott said defensively.

"I know. I believe you, I do."

"No, you don't," Scott said sadly. You look like you feel bad for me like you want to believe me, but I know you don't."

"Listen- we're gonna search this whole school. We're gonna find him. Okay? I promise." A deputy called the Sheriff over. Pointing a finger to the trio, he said, "Stay. All of you."

As the Sheriff stepped away, Stiles turned to Scott, trying to inject some levity. "Well, we survived, dude. You know? We outlasted the Alpha. It's still good, right? Being alive."

"When we were in the chemistry room, he walked right by us. You don't think that it heard us? You don't think it knew exactly where we were?" Scott pointed out. His sister nodded but frowned from beside Stiles.

Stiles's bravado wavered, but he pressed on. "Well, then, how come we're still alive?"

"It wants me in its pack," Scott exclaimed as a deputy passed by; he lowered his voice. Octavia flinched slightly, the unease settling heavily in her stomach. "But, I think, first, I have to get rid of my old pack."

"What do you mean? What old pack?" Stiles asked in confusion as he crossed his arms. Octavia's stomach twisted as if she already knew the answer.

"Allison...Jackson...Lydia...You both." Her brother said, confirming her suspicion.

"He's not the one that wants to kill us," Octavia said, not being able to meet her brother's eyes. Octavia's breath caught, her gaze flickering to Stiles as if they both understood. Stiles took a step closer, instinctively angling himself protectively toward Octavia, shoulders tense.

Scott turned away, not being able to face them. "He wants me to do it." He hesitated. "And that's not even the worst part."

"How the holy hell is that not the worst part, Scott?" Stiles asked in exasperation.

Scott forced himself to turn to them, "Because when he made me shift...I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill you. All of you."

Stiles's mouth opened, but no words came. He blinked quickly, fighting back tears that threatened to betray him. Octavia placed a gentle hand on his arm, grounding him with a warmth that lingered a second longer than he realized.

The three stood in silence, each lost in a tangle of unspoken fears, until Scott stepped down the last stair, heading toward an ambulance at the edge of the parking lot. Stiles and Octavia followed, lingering a few steps back as Scott approached his boss, who sat, battered but surprisingly cheerful.

In the back of the ambulance sat Scott's boss, reasonably unfazed by the events that happened and, besides the marks already on his body that were inflicted by Derek, seemingly all right. "There you are!" He exclaimed happily at the sight of the three.

"How-How did you-" Scott was so stunned at the sight of his boss he couldn't bring himself to ask the question.

"Get out?" Deaton smiled. "Not easily. And, from what they tell me, I'm alive because of you. I think I owe you a raise."

"Guys, come on. Let's let the EMTs do their job. You can talk to him later." The Sheriff said, lightly pulling Stiles by the arm.

Lucas approached Stiles just as Scott departed from the Sheriff to talk to Allison. "Hey, Stiles, can I talk to you?"

Stiles turned, exchanging a quick, confused look with Octavia. Lucas's face was hard to read, though his jaw was set. Stiles met Lucas's stare, his brow arching. "Sure," he said, voice laced with skepticism as they moved a few steps aside.

"Look, Lydia mentioned the winter formal is coming up," Lucas began, shifting uncomfortably.

"You're not my type, Duke." Stiles deadpanned, crossing his arms.

Lucas rolled his eyes, suppressing a sigh. "It's Luke, you know it's Luke." Lucas's eyes flicked toward Octavia, who was talking with the Sheriff nearby. "I know you don't like me because of... whatever feelings you have for Octavia-"

Stiles's jaw clenched his pulse quickening. "I do not have feelings for Octavia," he replied, his tone a little too defensive.

"Perfect." Lucas nodded, a smug smile plastered on his face. "Then it shouldn't be an issue if I ask her to attend the formal."

"Nope, no issue here," Stiles shrugged, feigning indifference. He glanced toward Octavia, an unreadable look flashing across his face. "You should even get her flowers. Roses. She loves roses."

Lucas smiled. "Roses? Really?"

"Absolutely," Stiles replied smoothly, not entirely understanding why he'd said it. He knew roses were the last thing Octavia would ever want—he'd heard her call them "cliché" enough times to be sure. In truth, flowers reminded her of her parents' arguments, of her dad showing up with sad, half-wilted roses as an empty apology. She'd always preferred something unique, like hyacinths or forget-me-nots, or something obscure like the monkey face orchids she found online. "Nope, no issue here," Stiles shrugged, feigning indifference. He glanced toward Octavia, an unreadable look flashing across his face. "You should even get her flowers. Roses. She loves roses."

But roses would keep Lucas at a distance, he thought, with an inward, satisfied smirk. He glanced at Octavia again, seeing her through Lucas's eyes but feeling something closer, something more familiar than he cared to admit. She wasn't like anyone else he'd ever known; she was Octavia McCall, fierce, unconventional, and so much more than he could ever explain.

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squealed while writing so many parts of this chapter especially her panic attack

lucas doesn't have a face claim because he's such a minor character so picture him however you want because he will not be here for long

i made a tiktok account (same username as here) for this fic

𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎