Two days after Peter joined the pack, Scott drove to school with Allison. They met up with the rest of the pack as usual outside the building.
As they walked toward the classroom, Scott caught sight of a man leaving the school. He raised an eyebrow and thought. 'If I remember correctly, that's the Chemist. He's going to release the virus during the PSATs in a few days. Should I take him out now and avoid future trouble?'
While Scott was still thinking, Lydia appeared beside him and whispered. "Scott… I think the man who just walked past us is… how should I put this? He doesn't feel right. He's not supernatural, but he feels wrong... evil, even. I saw you looking at him. Did you feel it too?"
Scott shook his head. "Not exactly. I don't feel anything supernatural… but I do smell something. It's the same scent that was coming off the infected members of Satomi's pack when we helped them. Since you sensed something off, I think he might be the one who used that virus against her pack."
Allison, standing beside him, asked. "Should we follow him?"
Stiles raised his hand. "I'll do it. I'll follow him."
"I'm going too." Malia said quickly. "No way you're going alone."
Scott stopped them. "There's no need. Lydia, send one of your crows after him. Once you find out where he's staying, let Uncle Noah and my dad know. They'll handle it."
Stiles groaned. "Come on, Scott. There's no need to tell them. Just let me go after him. Please?"
Scott shook his head. "We have school, Stiles. Besides, if he really is the one behind the attack on Satomi's pack, it'll be better if my dad and Uncle Noah catch him themselves. It'll help their careers to bring in a terrorist."
Stiles sighed. "Okay, fine. But can I at least go help them?"
Scott grabbed Stiles by the arm and dragged him toward class. "The two of them are more than enough to handle him."
Stiles sulked. "You're no fun."
Malia, disappointed that she couldn't skip school, muttered. "Ugh, I hate school. Allison, can you convince your stupid boyfriend to let me and Stiles skip just this once? Please? Sister?"
Allison laughed and looped her arm through Malia's, dragging her toward the classroom. "Nope. you are not skipping school."
"I hate you." Malia grumbled.
"I love you too, sister." Allison replied with a grin.
With that, Allison walked into the classroom with Malia, followed by Lydia and the rest of the pack, all of them laughing.
---
While the pack sat in class, Lydia's crow followed the Chemist through town to a warehouse near the edge of Beacon Hills. Once the man entered, Lydia relayed the address to Noah telepathically and ordered the crow to stay hidden and keep watch.
Noah, Parrish, and Rafael rushed to the warehouse as soon as they had the address.
Not long, Noah, Rafael, and Parrish arrived at the warehouse. The place was tucked behind a rusted chain-link fence, surrounded by overgrown weeds—almost as if Beacon Hills itself was trying to forget it existed.
The trio entered cautiously, stepping through the creaking front entrance.
Inside, the warehouse was dim and reeked of metal, rot, chemicals, and the unmistakable scent of blood. Flickering fluorescent lights cast erratic shadows over rows of scattered lab equipment, makeshift workbenches, and racks of vials and test tubes.
In the center of the room lay a body—a young werewolf, clearly dead. His body was drenched in thick black blood, claws and fangs still fully extended, frozen in a final moment of agony.
A few feet away, another werewolf was barely alive. Trapped inside a mountain ash circle etched into the ground, he trembled, black blood leaking from his mouth, nose, eyes, ears, and clawed fingertips. His transformations were unstable—his eyes flickering between human and wolf, bones shifting involuntarily beneath his skin as he lost control.
The Chemist was bent over a set of test tubes, muttering to himself. He looked up sharply when he heard the footsteps, his eyes wide with panic. Then they widened further when he recognized Noah.
"You." The Chemist hissed. "Noah Stilinski. Your head is worth fifteen million, and you just delivered it to me."
He snatched a vial filled with a glowing, swirling liquid and prepared to throw it at Noah. But before he could even lift his arm, Noah appearing beside him in an instant.
Noah caught the Chemist's wrist mid-throw, twisting it until the vial dropped and shattered on the floor with a soft hiss, releasing a puff of blue vapor. In one smooth motion, Noah slammed the man face-first into a nearby table and locked his arms behind his back.
"You're under arrest." Noah said coldly.
Rafael stepped closer, studying the man now pinned to the table. "You're the Chemist, aren't you?"
Parrish frowned. "You know him?"
Rafael nodded grimly. "Yeah. His name is Simon. He's a bioterrorist—one of the worst. He's on the FBI's Most Wanted list. We've been tracking him for years."
The Chemist struggled uselessly against Noah's grip.
Noah tightened the cuffs around his wrists. "Well, now he'll spend the rest of his life rotting in a cell."
Rafael shook his head. "I think we should kill him, Noah."
Noah and Parrish said at the same time. "We can't do that."
Rafael looked at both of them, dead serious. "I know you two are good cops. But trust me—I've seen more than you think. And now that I know about the supernatural side of the world, I guarantee you my superiors do too. If we take him to jail, he won't stay there for long. Someone in the FBI or CIA will find a use for him—turn him into a weapon against werewolves, against shapeshifters. Or worse, another organization will break him out and use him to create bioweapons. He's too dangerous to stay alive."
Hearing that, the Chemist began to panic. He glanced at Noah—the only person he thought might protect him—and said quickly. "Hey, Sheriff. You can't kill me. I'm cuffed and unarmed—that's an execution. That's against the law!"
Rafael narrowed his eyes. "You're right. We can't kill an unarmed man, can we?"
He took a step forward. His eyes glowed golden as he locked gaze with the Chemist. Using the ability he'd absorbed from a vampire, Rafael mentally controlled the man. The Chemist's pupils dilated, and he stood there, dazed.
"He's under my control now." Rafael said calmly. "Noah, uncuff him."
Noah hesitated, thinking about what Rafael had said. He didn't like it—but Rafael had a point. Someone like the Chemist, if left alive, would always be a threat. With a reluctant nod, he removed the cuffs and stepped aside.
Rafael faced the dazed man. "Do you know who the Benefactor is? The one behind the Deadpool?"
The Chemist, under compulsion, replied flatly. "No. I got the Deadpool list through an anonymous email."
"What were you doing at the school today?" Rafael asked.
"I was scouting. I was planning to release the virus during the PSATs next week and kill the McCall Pack."
Noah stepped forward. "This is taking too long. I'll read his memories."
Without waiting for approval, Noah extended his claws and stabbed them into the back of the Chemist's neck. His eyes glowed red as he sifted through the man's thoughts.
After a moment, Noah pulled his claws back and exhaled.
Then he said. "The Chemist doesn't know anything about the Benefactor. He's killed four werewolves from the Deadpool list since coming to town—including the dead body here. Every time he kills a werewolf, he has to send visual proof to an encrypted dead-drop server. Once the photo is verified, the bounty money is transferred to his bank account immediately. Then, an email tells him where to drop off the bodies… if they want them."
Parrish asked. "Did the Benefactor request the bodies?"
Noah nodded. "Yes. They asked for two and told him to drop them off in a location in the Beacon Hills Preserve, then leave. They paid him ten thousand dollars for each corpse."
Rafael asked. "So he never met anyone from the Benefactor's side?"
Noah shook his head. "Unfortunately, no."
Rafael sighed. "Well, that's too bad."
Then, without hesitation, he drew his gun and commanded. "Take your gun from the table and fire a few shots behind me."
Still under his control, the Chemist obeyed. He picked up the weapon and fired into the air behind Rafael.
Then Rafael shot the Chemist cleanly between the eyes. The man crumpled to the floor, dead.
After that, Noah walked over to the Chemist's bed and picked up a duffel bag.
"There's five hundred thousand in cash here." He said. "What are we gonna do with it?"
Rafael shrugged. "Take it to the ranch. Or use it if you need it."
Noah nodded. "Alright. Parrish, burn the corpse of the dead werewolf. I'm going to call this in, and I'd rather not explain to the other deputies why the body has claws and fangs."
"On it." Parrish said.
He walked over to the dead werewolf and incinerated the body into ash using his fire ability.
After that, Noah pointed to the unconscious, infected werewolf still trapped in the mountain ash circle.
"Take him to Deaton. See if he can heal him, and ask Melissa to read his memories—see if he's dangerous or not. If he is… deal with him accordingly."
Parrish nodded. Noah handed him the money bag.
"Here, take this back to the ranch. If you or anyone needs some of it, use it."
Parrish nodded again, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. He grabbed a blanket from the Chemist's bed, and wrapped the unconscious werewolf in it, then lifted him onto his shoulder. He carried him out to his car, laid him gently in the back seat, and drove straight to the animal clinic.
Once Parrish was gone, Noah called the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) and his deputies to handle the Chemist's illegal lab.
---
Later that night, the pack gathered in the living room of the pack house.
Noah filled them in on what had happened at the warehouse, including everything he saw in the Chemist's memories.
Deaton added. "By the way, that werewolf you sent me—he was from Satomi's pack."
Stiles blinked. "Satomi's pack again?"
Melissa nodded. "Yes. After Alan healed him, I read his memories. He's one of hers. We called her, and she came to pick him up. She told us she's lost four pack members since we last saw her."
Scott sat up, frustrated. "Seriously? I thought warning her would've been enough for her to keep them safe. Damn it—this is getting on my nerves."
Melissa put a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. We warned her. What she does with that warning is up to her. We can't make her fight back."
Allison shook her head. "I don't understand. Even a deer fights back when cornered by a wolf. But her and her pack..." She exhaled sharply. "It's like they've forgotten they're predators. They're not fighting back, not running away—just waiting to be hunted."
Peter smirked from the couch. "Satomi's just like my sister. Despite being a strong Alpha, she was too wea..."
Before he could finish, a fist slammed into his face, sending him flying off the couch and crashing into the wall.
Cora stood over him, eyes glowing red. "That's the last time I hear you talk about my mother like that."
Peter stood back up, unharmed but rubbing his jaw. "That hurt."
He sighed. "But what I said is true. Talia was strong—but she was too nice. Too gentle. And Satomi, she's a strong alpha, no doubt. After all, she is the alpha of a large pack. But she's terrified of what she is, and she hides that fear behind words like 'peaceful.'"
He sat back down. "Peaceful, my ass. She can't even protect herself. What's the point of power if you're too afraid to use it?"
Malia crossed her arms. "I hate to say this, but… I agree with stupid Peter."
Peter said. "I'm glad you agree with me, but did you have to add the word stupid?"
Malia ignored him and continued. "I don't understand emotions much, but I know one thing—I'd kill anyone who tries to hurt our pack. Just the thought of losing any of you, even the new guys, it makes my chest hurt. And I don't want to feel that."
Stiles blinked. "Wow. I'm proud of you, babe."
Malia smiled, then added. "But if something really powerful came after us and we couldn't win, I wouldn't mind sacrificing a few of you so I could escape with Stiles, my parents, and Allison."
She paused, then said matter-of-factly. "Especially the new guys—Rafael, Aiden, Kira, Parrish, and Peter."
There was a long, stunned silence.
"…Wow!" Aiden muttered. "I feel incredibly unappreciated."
"That hurts, Malia. I thought we were friends." Kira said, eyes wide.
Peter chuckled. "As expected from my blood. Ruthless."
Rafael took a sip of his coffee and said dryly. "Glad to know I'm on your Expendables List."
Stiles quickly jumped in. "Malia, remember what I told you? Don't say everything that's on your mind out loud."
Malia shrugged. "I remember. And I didn't say everything. Like how I'd also sacrifice Isaac, and Boyd too. And maybe even..."
Stiles lunged forward and kissed her, cutting her off mid-sentence.
Then he turned to the rest of the pack with his arms raised in mock surrender. "Believe me—for her, this is progress."
The whole pack burst into laughter. No one seemed particularly offended by what Malia said—they were too used to her blunt honesty by now.
After a few moments, Melissa stood up and clapped her hands. "Alright, alright. That's enough death, doom, and Malia-level honesty for one night. Victoria and I are making dinner. Girls, come help us in the kitchen."
Stiles sprang to his feet. "No, Melissa—please don't let Lydia and Malia cook again. I swear, the last time I ate their food, I got poisoned! And we're supposed to be immune to poison!"
Lydia narrowed her eyes. "Was my cooking really that bad, Stiles?"
Malia growled. "You said you liked the meat I grilled!"
"In my defense." Stiles blurted. "you looked like you were going to kill me if I didn't like it!"
Scott shook his head and muttered. "Dumbass."
Allison added with a smirk. "You're being way too honest, Stiles."
Seeing the death glares coming from both Lydia and Malia, Stiles started inching toward the exit.
"I just remembered I need to feed the cows." He said quickly. "See you guys when dinner's ready!"
With that, he bolted out of the living room as Lydia and Malia chased after him, both shouting threats that echoed down the hallway.
Laughter erupted once more from the rest of the pack.
As it died down, Melissa turned to Scott and said. "You're a good cook, sweetie. Come help us in the kitchen."
Victoria pointed at Boyd. "You too. No escaping."
Boyd groaned dramatically. "Why do I feel like Scott and I are going to end up cooking the whole dinner while you and Melissa just sit around drinking wine?"
Scott patted him on the shoulder and said. "Because that's probably exactly what's going to happen."
To be continued... 😊