We stood there, frozen in confusion, staring at the empty hospital bed.
"Where the hell is he?" Scott muttered, disbelief evident in his voice. He pushed an abandoned wheelchair aside and wandered to the dimly lit corners of the room, as if expecting Peter to somehow be lurking in the shadows.
"Do you think the Alpha came for him?" Tara asked, her brows furrowed in suspicion.
I shook my head.
"Why? He was a literal vegetable." The words felt absurd even as I said them. "Why would the Alpha waste time on him?" None of it made sense.
Before we could speculate further, a sharp voice cut through the tension.
"How did you get in here?"
We spun toward the doorway, where a nurse stood with her arms crossed, eyes filled with suspicion. The crease in her forehead deepened as she scanned our guilty expressions, her frustration practically radiating off her.
"We're friends of Derek," I said quickly, stepping forward in an attempt to ease her wariness. "Peter's nephew."
"'Friends' is a bit of a stretch," Scott mumbled under his breath.
The nurse exhaled, unimpressed.
"That doesn't matter. Visiting hours are between four and seven." She cast a pointed look at the clock. "It's well past that. You should let the patient rest."
Tara tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
"And where exactly is the patient?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Having a party with Mr. Invisible?"
Before the nurse could respond, a low, amused chuckle rumbled from behind her. The sound sent an unnatural chill down my spine.
Footsteps echoed across the polished floor as a figure emerged from the shadows.
He was tall, draped in a long black trench coat over a dark turtleneck, the dim hospital lights casting eerie highlights across his face. Scars, raw and jagged, traced the burned half of his face, while the other half wore an expression of pure amusement, a smug grin stretched across his lips.
Even without speaking, his presence was suffocating. A weight settled over us, an invisible force pressing into our bones, triggering something primal. Every nerve in my body screamed at me—this man was dangerous.
"My, my," he drawled, his voice smooth yet dripping with condescension.
"Aren't you the young detectives?" He took another slow step forward, eyes gleaming with sick enjoyment. "So full of life and curiosity, trying so desperately to unravel a mystery far beyond your reach."
Scott stiffened beside me, his breath hitching. "You—you're—"
The man's smirk deepened.
"Oh yes." His tone was mocking, savoring the moment as he reached up, adjusting the lapels of his coat. "My brother in blood."
Then, his eyes changed.
A sharp, unnatural glow of crimson ignited within his gaze, illuminating his face against the sterile hospital lights.
"I'm the Alpha," he declared, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable sense of authority. His polite, almost gentlemanly smile remained as he fastened the top button of his trench coat. "Nice to officially meet you."
"Yeah, the last time we met, we didn't exactly part on good terms," I said, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my throat. My gaze flickered from Scott, still reeling from Peter's influence, back to the smirking Alpha before us.
"No, we did not," Peter growled under his breath, a deep, guttural sound filled with barely restrained menace.
But just as quickly as the anger surfaced, it melted into something far more unsettling—a slow, feral grin stretching across his scarred face. He turned his gaze back to Scott, his amusement growing.
"Let's kill them and get out of here," the nurse suddenly interjected, her voice cold and emotionless.
Her words earned sharp glares from us, but Peter merely rolled his eyes, exhaling in irritation.
"I'm talking," he muttered, as if our imminent deaths were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Then, in the blink of an eye, he turned on her.
The sickening sound of flesh being torn open filled the air as his claws slashed across her throat. A spray of crimson painted the walls, her body convulsing as she collapsed, choking on her own blood.
"The things this psychotic bitch has put me through," Peter scoffed, shaking off the droplets of blood as though they were nothing more than an annoyance.
Tara's eyes narrowed, her voice laced with disgust. "And that justifies your murder spree?"
Peter turned to her, his expression eerily calm, almost philosophical.
"It wasn't mindless slaughter," he corrected. "It was vengeance. A reckoning long overdue."
"And Laura?" I cut in, taking a cautious step back toward the window. "She was your family. She was innocent."
A shadow passed over Peter's face, his expression twisting with something that might have been pain—if he was even capable of it.
"You have no idea what I endured," he snarled, his voice trembling with rage. "I burned. For years, I burned. My mind was nothing but agony, every cell of my body healing in torment. Killing Laura—becoming the Alpha—it wasn't just revenge. It was survival."
Tara scoffed, unimpressed. "Yeah, and now you look like a corgi-faced potato."
Peter's lips curled, and to my horror, he laughed—a dry, humorless chuckle. Then, right before our eyes, his scarred flesh began to shift, the burned tissue smoothing over as fresh skin regenerated in perfect symmetry.
"Well, don't you have a mouth on you?" he mused, stepping toward us with slow, deliberate strides. "I'd quite enjoy ripping that out."
His voice dropped, the air around him thick with an overwhelming presence.
"But that's not my priority," he continued, voice soft but filled with deadly intent. "The Argents are. I will tear them apart, limb by limb. And if you stand in my way, I will do the same to you."
Scott, ever the idealist, took a step forward.
"You can't just kill them," he pleaded. "If you want justice, take it to the cops—"
Peter rolled his eyes so hard I thought he might fall over. "Grow up, Scott," he snapped. "Justice? This isn't about justice. This is retribution."
Scott's fists clenched. "What happened to your family was wrong. But that doesn't mean you should do the same thing to the Argents."
Peter tilted his head, his grin widening. "Oh, please. Worried I might hurt your little crush?"
He let out a low chuckle. "Don't worry, Scott. It won't be me who kills her. It'll be you."
Scott barely had time to react before his body suddenly jerked. His hands shot to his head, fingers digging into his skull as he let out a strangled cry.
"Arghhh!" he gasped, his amber eyes flickering wildly between human and wolf.
"Fight it, Scott!" I yelled, but his entire body trembled, his transformation forcing its way through against his will.
Peter smirked.
"Oh, but he can't." He took a step back, admiring his work. "The part of him that has accepted me as its Alpha won't let him go."
I clenched my fists, my breath coming in ragged bursts. Dark flames erupted across my arms, flickering with fury.
Without another thought, I lunged.
Peter sidestepped with ease, his eyes momentarily widening in interest as he took note of the black fire dancing along my fists.
"Just as I expected," he murmured.
I wasn't interested in his cryptic remarks. I swung again and again, each punch fueled by frustration and fear—but he was too fast, dodging with minimal effort, his movements eerily smooth.
Then, before I could react, a sharp force slammed into my chest.
The impact sent me flying across the room, my back colliding against the wall with a brutal crack. Pain lanced through my spine as I struggled to breathe.
Peter sauntered toward me, his smirk never fading.
Behind him, Scott stood, fully transformed, his amber eyes locked onto a target only he could see.
One against Peter was bad enough. But Peter and Scott?
I was staring down a losing battle.
I barely had time to think before Peter gave the command.
"Scott," he purred, "kill Allison Argent."
In an instant, Scott bolted from the room, vanishing in a blur of supernatural speed.
My stomach dropped.
Peter's gaze slowly turned back to me, his expression filled with a twisted sort of satisfaction.
"You have no idea what you are, do you?" he mused, his curiosity genuine. "I'll admit, you've been causing quite the trouble lately."
"Stay away from me, you psycho!" I roared, grabbing the nearest object—a wheelchair—and hurling it at him with all the strength I had left.
Peter barely flinched as he swatted it aside like a toy.
"Funny," he mused, "coming from you."
Then, suddenly—
A fire extinguisher flew across the room, hurtling straight toward us.
I didn't hesitate.
I swung mid-air, my fist colliding with the canister. The impact sent it exploding into a thick cloud of white mist, engulfing the room in a blinding fog.
"Tara!" I called.
"Got you!"
I grabbed her arm, pulling her close as we sprinted toward the window.
No time to hesitate.
I held her tight and jumped.
The world blurred for a split second before we hit the ground with a brutal impact. I gritted my teeth, absorbing the worst of the fall while shielding her. Pain shot through my ribs, but I pushed it aside.
"You okay?" I asked breathlessly.
Tara nodded, quickly helping me to my feet. "We need to move."
We took off toward my Jeep, sprinting through the parking lot.
But just as I turned back, my blood ran cold.
Through the dissipating mist, standing in the shattered window above us, glowing red eyes locked onto mine.