Chapter 1: Exile - Hunted
Chapter Text
ACT I — EXILE
The first thing Bode noticed about Beacon Hills was the cold.
Not the kind that came from winter—California didn’t really do winter like that—but the kind that settled into wet clothes and empty stomachs and stayed there. Mountain cold. Forest cold. The kind that crept under skin and made bones ache.
By midnight, fog rolled low through the preserve like smoke.
Bode sat beneath a crooked pine with his back against the trunk, hood pulled low, staring at the small camp stove balanced carefully on a flat rock in front of him. A dented can of soup warmed slowly over the weak blue flame.
Chicken noodle.
Five dollars and twenty-three cents left in his pocket.
A half pack of crackers.
One lighter.
A stolen hoodie that still smelled faintly like cigarette smoke and laundry detergent that wasn’t his.
He rubbed both hands over his face hard enough to hurt.
Three days since he’d slept indoors.
Two months since Oregon.
Six months since Edgewater.
Six months since Riley.
The soup began to bubble.
Bode stared at it blankly.
Then he looked away before the memory could fully hit.
Too late.
Rain on asphalt.
Headlights.
Music thundering through Smokey’s bar while people laughed and shouted over one another. Riley’s birthday decorations still hung crookedly from the rafters, half falling down already.
Bode pushed through the back door into the alley behind the bar just in time to hear Jake say:
“Riley, I—”
“Please just go.”
Riley stood with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, tears streaking mascara down her cheeks. The string lights hanging above the back patio painted everything in blurry gold and red.
Jake looked wrecked.
“Ri—”
“Because I have to go back over there and act happy because it’s my birthday.”
Bode stopped cold.
Jake noticed him first.
For one terrible second all three of them just stared at each other.
Then Jake looked away.
Guilty.
Bode’s stomach dropped.
Jake brushed past him without another word and disappeared back into the bar.
“What the hell was that?” Bode asked immediately.
Riley wiped furiously at her face.
“Nothing.”
“Ri.”
“Nothing, Bode.”
She tried to move past him.
He caught her arm gently.
“Hey. Talk to me.”
That almost broke her completely.
Bode watched her fight to hold herself together for several painful seconds before she finally whispered:
“Jake and I were together.”
The statement hit him so hard he actually blinked.
“What?”
Riley laughed once.
Small.
Broken.
Humiliated.
“We were, yeah.” Her voice cracked. “But we’re not anymore.”
For a moment Bode just stared at her.
Jake?
Jake Crawford?
His best friend since they were kids?
“You’re kidding.”
“I didn’t want to tell you,” Riley rushed out quickly. “Or Mom and Dad. Or anyone.”
Bode’s thoughts reeled backward instantly:
Jake always showing up at the house
Riley disappearing during parties
quiet smiles
long looks
secrets he somehow never noticed
“Oh my God.”
“I thought maybe if it got a little more serious…” Riley swallowed hard. “Then we’d tell people.”
“What happened?”
Riley looked down at the wet pavement.
“Turns out Jake wasn’t serious at all.”
Anger flashed hot and immediate through Bode’s chest.
“What did he say to you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Now Riley really did start crying again.
Not angry tears.
Embarrassed ones.
“Now I’m the idiot crying on her own birthday.”
“Hey.” Bode stepped closer instantly. “No. No, you’re not.”
Riley laughed bitterly and wiped at her face.
“Can you just please not tell Mom and Dad?”
Bode hesitated.
Not because he wanted to tell.
Because suddenly he understood exactly why she was terrified.
Vince would lose his mind.
Not at Riley.
At Jake.
And Sharon—
God.
This would break Sharon’s heart too.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Riley whispered.
Bode’s anger faded immediately.
She looked so young suddenly.
Not annoying little-sister young.
Just hurt.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I won’t tell them.”
Riley nodded shakily.
Inside the bar someone shouted for birthday shots.
Neither of them moved.
Rain hammered against the windshield hard enough to blur the world outside the truck into streaks of white and gold.
Bode kept both hands tight on the steering wheel as the truck sped through the winding mountain roads outside Edgewater.
“I should’ve warned you.”
Riley sat curled against the passenger door, tears streaking mascara down her cheeks.
“You’ve been around Jake long enough. You know he’s a player.”
Bode tightened his jaw.
“This is what he does, Riley.”
“He cheated on you.”
“Can you stop texting him?”
“No.” Riley wiped angrily at her face. “I need to go back and talk to him.”
“That’s not happening.”
Bode kept his eyes on the road.
“I’m taking you home.”
“Then I’m getting out.”
Bode looked over sharply.
“What are you doing? Stop. Riley, stop—”
Riley shoved the passenger door open against the storm outside.
Cold rain and wind exploded into the cab.
“Riley, get back in the car!”
[HORN HONKING]
“Hey, hold on!”
“Hit the brakes!”
“I can’t! I can’t stop!”
[TIRES SCREECHING]
“Bode!”
[RILEY SCREAMING]
Then metal screamed louder.
Glass exploded inward.
And the world disappeared.
“Riley.”
Bode jerked violently back to the present.
The soup nearly tipped off the stove.
His breathing came too fast.
Sharp.
Uneven.
He pressed both palms hard against his eyes until colors burst behind them.
Not now.
Please not now.
But the memories never stopped once they started.
Not anymore.
He still remembered waking upside down in the wreckage.
Blood in his mouth.
Rain pouring through shattered glass.
The smell of gasoline.
Pain everywhere.
And Riley—
Bode swallowed hard enough to hurt.
No.
He never let himself think about that part for long.
Because that was where the silence lived.
The terrible silence after the crash.
The silence after Riley stopped breathing.
The silence that destroyed his family.
Wind moved softly through the preserve around him.
Bode forced himself to breathe slowly.
In.
Out.
Somewhere deeper in the woods, something howled.
He froze.
The sound echoed low and distant through the fog-covered trees.
Not a dog.
Too deep.
Too sharp.
Bode listened carefully.
Nothing answered it.
After a moment he looked back down at the soup.
Probably coyotes.
That’s what people around town kept saying anyway.
Coyotes.
Mountain lions.
Missing hikers.
Beacon Hills had stories.
Bode had learned that quickly.
He pulled the soup off the flame and shut the burner off. Darkness swallowed the little clearing almost immediately.
Too quiet.
That was the thing he hated most about nights out here.
Silence left too much room for memories.
Back in Edgewater there had always been noise:
sirens,
music,
football games,
arguments,
Riley singing badly just to annoy him.
Now there was only wind and guilt.
Bode ate slowly, barely tasting any of it.
When he finished, he crushed the empty can beneath his boot and packed everything carefully back into the old hiking bag beside him.
The bag looked older every day.
Frayed canvas.
Broken zipper.
Duct tape wrapped around one strap.
Everything he owned fit inside it.
A few clothes.
Pocketknife.
Phone with barely any charge left.
And buried near the bottom—
Riley’s bracelet.
Bode hesitated before pulling it free.
Thin braided leather.
Tiny silver pine tree charm.
Cheap little thing from some roadside gas station years ago.
Riley had worn it almost every day.
Now he carried it everywhere like a wound that refused to close.
His thumb brushed over the charm carefully.
“I’m trying, Ri,” he whispered.
The woods gave him nothing back.
A branch cracked somewhere nearby.
Bode’s head snapped up instantly.
The forest had changed.
Every instinct in his body suddenly pulled tight.
Another crack.
Closer this time.
Bode rose slowly to his feet.
Fog drifted thick between the trees beyond the dead firelight.
Nothing moved.
But something was there.
Watching him.
He could feel it.
A pressure in the darkness.
Predatory.
His pulse quickened.
Then the wind shifted—
And a smell hit him.
Wet earth.
Rot.
Blood.
His stomach twisted violently.
A shape moved between the trees.
Fast.
Too fast.
Bode stumbled backward instinctively.
The figure vanished.
Then reappeared several yards away between the pines.
Tall.
Wrong somehow.
Its eyes reflected in the darkness.
Human.
Not human.
Bode’s breath caught.
The thing smiled.
Then disappeared back into the fog.
Silence crashed over the clearing.
Far off in the preserve—
a wolf howled.
Bode didn’t move.
He stood perfectly still, listening as the sound stretched through the trees like it didn’t belong to anything natural in the world.
It wasn’t just distance that made it feel wrong.
It was… intention.
Like something calling back to something else.
The wind shifted again.
Cold air pressed through the clearing, brushing against the back of his neck.
Bode swallowed.
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “Nope.”
He backed up one slow step.
Then another.
The fire pit was still glowing faintly—low embers sinking into ash.
Too small to matter.
Too small to protect anything.
A branch snapped to his left.
Bode froze.
His head turned slightly.
Nothing.
Just fog between trees.
Thick enough to hide a body.
Or a dozen.
His pulse climbed hard in his throat.
“Hello?” he called out.
Stupid.
Even as the word left his mouth, he regretted it.
No answer came.
Just silence.
Worse than silence, actually.
Waiting.
Bode reached down slowly, hand brushing the ground near his pack.
His fingers closed around the worn hiking knife tucked beside his bag.
Not much.
But something.
Another sound—
behind him.
Bode spun.
Nothing there.
Only trees.
Only fog.
But the air had changed.
Pressure.
Like the forest had inhaled and was holding its breath.
Then—
a voice.
Close.
Too close.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
Bode’s entire body locked.
He didn’t turn immediately.
Because some instinct—older than thought—told him that whatever was behind him didn’t need him to see it first.
Slowly, he pivoted.
And found him.
A man stood just beyond the edge of the firelight.
Tall. Lean. Still as stone.
Dark hair. Sharp eyes. Face unreadable in the half-light.
But it wasn’t his stillness that mattered.
It was the feeling.
Like something dangerous had learned how to pretend to be calm.
Bode tightened his grip on the knife.
“Yeah?” he said carefully. “Neither should you.”
A pause.
The man’s gaze flicked briefly to Bode’s hands.
Then to the dying fire.
Then back to him.
“You’re in Hale territory,” the man said.
Bode frowned slightly.
“Hale…?”
The name meant nothing to him yet.
But the way the man said it—like it mattered—made something uneasy settle in his chest.
The man stepped forward just slightly.
Not aggressive.
Not friendly either.
Measured.
Controlled.
“You’ve been here how long?” he asked.
Bode hesitated.
“Couple days.”
“That’s long enough for you to be dead twice over in these woods.”
Bode gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Yeah, well. Busy schedule.”
That earned him the faintest shift in the man’s expression.
Not quite amusement.
Not quite approval.
Something more like recognition.
The man’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer than necessary.
Like he was reading something under the skin.
Bode didn’t like that.
“Look,” Bode said, shifting his stance slightly, “I don’t want trouble. I’m just passing through.”
The man tilted his head slightly.
“You’re not passing through.”
Bode frowned.
“I am.”
“No,” the man said quietly. “You’re hiding.”
That landed harder than it should have.
For a second, Bode didn’t respond.
Because he hated how accurate it was.
A silence stretched between them.
Wind moved through the trees again.
The man finally spoke.
“You should leave tonight.”
Bode’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t take orders from strangers in the woods.”
A pause.
Then—
“I’m not a stranger.”
Bode didn’t lower the knife.
“Yeah?” he said. “Then what are you?”
The man held his gaze.
And for a moment, something almost human flickered there.
Almost tired.
“Derek,” he said.
A beat.
Then, quieter:
“Derek Hale.”
The name meant nothing to Bode.
Not yet.
But the way the forest seemed to shift around him when he said it—
that meant something.
Bode didn’t relax.
“Cool,” he said flatly. “Still not camping elsewhere.”
Derek studied him for another long moment.
Then his eyes dropped—just slightly—to Bode’s chest.
Like he was listening to something Bode couldn’t hear.
“You’re not alone out here anymore,” Derek said.
Bode’s grip tightened.
“I’ve been alone for a while.”
Something changed in Derek’s expression at that.
A flicker.
Recognition again.
But sharper this time.
Like he understood that kind of sentence too well.
Behind them—
deep in the woods—
another howl answered the first.
Derek’s head turned slightly toward it.
Instantly alert.
Focused.
Dangerous in a different way now.
Bode noticed that shift immediately.
“…what was that?” he asked.
Derek didn’t answer right away.
Instead, his eyes returned to Bode.
Measured him again.
And whatever he saw this time—
it made his decision for him.
“You need to come with me,” Derek said.
Bode scoffed.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.”
Derek took one step closer.
And the temperature in the clearing felt like it dropped.
“You don’t understand what’s in these woods,” he said quietly.
Bode’s jaw tightened.
“I’ve handled worse.”
A pause.
Derek’s voice lowered even further.
“No,” he said. “You haven’t.”
The wind picked up again.
Harder this time.
The fire embers flickered weakly.
And somewhere behind them—
something moved through the trees fast enough that even Bode felt it before he saw it.
Derek’s eyes sharpened instantly.
“Too late,” he murmured.
Bode looked between the trees.
“Too late for what?”
Derek didn’t look at him when he answered.
“Welcome to Beacon Hills.”
And then the forest screamed back.
The sound wasn’t just noise.
It hit the trees like impact—like something massive had struck the forest itself.
Bode flinched before he could stop himself.
Branches above them shuddered violently. Fog scattered in sudden, unnatural waves as something moved through it at impossible speed.
Derek didn’t hesitate.
“Move,” he snapped.
Bode didn’t argue this time.
He grabbed his pack and pivoted—
Too late.
Something dropped into the clearing.
Not a person landing.
A presence arriving.
The impact cracked the ground hard enough to scatter embers from Bode’s fire outward in a ring of sparks.
Bode stumbled back instinctively, knife up, heart slamming against his ribs.
The figure straightened slowly.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Not Derek.
Not human, either.
Its head tilted slightly, like it was listening to something only it could hear.
Then it smiled.
Wrong.
Too wide.
Too certain.
Bode felt it immediately—deep in his gut.
Predator.
Not animal.
Not man.
Something in between.
“Derek Hale,” it said, voice smooth in a way that didn’t belong in the forest. “Still playing protector?”
Derek stepped sideways—not in front of Bode.
But between him and it anyway.
Subtle.
Automatic.
Like instinct.
Bode noticed that.
Didn’t miss it.
“Get out of my territory,” Derek said.
The thing chuckled.
Low.
Amused.
“Your territory?” it repeated. “That’s generous. I thought you were just squatting in it.”
Bode tightened his grip on the knife.
“What is that?” he muttered under his breath.
Derek didn’t look back.
“Don’t talk,” Derek said quietly. “And don’t run unless I tell you.”
“Comforting,” Bode muttered.
The thing took a step forward.
The ground beneath it didn’t crunch like normal footsteps.
It pressed.
Like gravity responded differently around it.
Its eyes flicked to Bode.
And paused.
Longer than necessary.
That smile widened slightly.
“Oh,” it said. “You brought me a stray.”
Bode felt something cold slide down his spine.
“Stray?” he echoed quietly.
Derek’s voice sharpened.
“Don’t look at him.”
The thing ignored him completely.
Instead, it tilted its head at Bode again.
“You don’t smell like a pack,” it said. “Not yet.”
Bode frowned slightly.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Derek moved.
Fast.
One second he was still—
The next he was in motion.
He hit the thing like a strike from the dark itself.
The impact sent both of them crashing into the trees with enough force to shake bark loose.
Bode jumped back instinctively—
“Okay—nope—this is insane—”
A blur.
Derek again.
The other thing pivoted mid-motion, laughing like it was enjoying itself.
Bode backed up toward his bag, eyes darting.
“Derek!” he shouted. “What the hell is that thing?!”
No answer.
Just impact after impact tearing through the forest.
Trees snapped.
Fog churned.
Something roared—not fully human, not fully animal.
Bode froze.
Because that sound didn’t belong in any world he understood.
The ground near him shifted.
Fast.
He turned—
Too late.
The thing was there.
Right in front of him now.
Close enough that Bode could see its eyes properly.
Not red.
Not gold.
Something darker underneath.
Like fire behind glass.
It smiled again.
“Interesting,” it murmured.
Bode raised the knife instantly.
“Back off.”
It didn’t.
Instead, it leaned slightly closer.
And sniffed.
Like that meant something.
Bode’s stomach twisted.
“Yeah,” Bode said tightly. “I’m not food.”
The thing laughed softly.
“No,” it said. “You’re something else.”
A crack sounded behind them—
Derek.
He slammed into the thing from the side, dragging it away from Bode in a violent burst of motion.
“Run!” Derek shouted this time.
Bode didn’t hesitate anymore.
He grabbed his pack and bolted.
Branches whipped at his face as he ran.
Fog swallowed everything behind him almost instantly.
But even through the trees—
he heard it.
Laughing.
Like it knew exactly where he was going.
Bode ran harder.
The forest blurred around him.
Cold air burned in his lungs.
Behind him, something crashed through the woods in pursuit.
Fast.
Too fast.
Bode didn’t look back.
He just ran.
And somewhere deep in the preserve—
the wolves answered again.
Bode ran until the forest stopped looking like a place and started looking like movement.
Trees became streaks. Fog became pressure. The ground beneath his boots turned uneven, unforgiving—roots and stone trying to catch him every few steps like the woods itself had decided he wasn’t supposed to leave.
Behind him, something kept pace.
Not close enough to see.
Close enough to feel.
That was worse.
“Derek!” Bode shouted without thinking. His voice cracked under the strain. “Derek, what the hell is this?!”
No answer came back.
Only impact sounds somewhere deeper in the trees—Derek still fighting. Still holding it back.
Or trying to.
A branch snapped hard across Bode’s shoulder. He grunted, stumbled, caught himself on instinct alone and kept going.
His lungs burned.
His vision tunneled.
He forced himself forward anyway.
Because stopping meant—
No.
He didn’t finish the thought.
He never did anymore.
Another sound behind him—closer now.
Fast.
Bode veered left, sliding down a slight incline into thicker brush. Wet leaves slapped against his jeans, soaked through in seconds. The cold bit harder here, like the forest was pulling him under.
His foot caught something solid.
He went down hard.
The breath left him in a violent rush.
Pain flared through his ribs as he rolled instinctively, trying to protect his pack—
Something slammed into the ground where he’d just been.
The impact cracked dirt and stone outward.
Bode scrambled backward on instinct, knife coming up—
Too late.
It was there again.
Standing over him now.
Calm.
Almost amused.
Like this was slow entertainment.
Bode froze.
Chest heaving.
Knife shaking just slightly in his grip.
“Okay,” he rasped, forcing air into his lungs. “Nope. This is officially a bad night.”
The thing tilted its head.
“You’re fast,” it said.
Bode swallowed hard.
“Yeah, well. I get that a lot.”
A pause.
Then it smiled again.
And this time, it wasn’t just wrong.
It was interested.
“That’s new,” it murmured.
Bode shifted backward an inch.
“Stay back.”
It stepped forward instead.
And the forest around them went unnaturally quiet.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Bode’s pulse hammered so hard he could hear it in his ears.
“Look,” he said quickly, voice tighter now, “I don’t know what you are, but I am having a really bad week, so if you could just—”
It moved.
No warning.
No buildup.
Just there—inside his space in a blink.
Bode reacted on instinct, swinging the knife.
The blade cut air.
The thing caught his wrist.
Not painfully.
Effortlessly.
Like stopping him didn’t require strength at all.
Bode tried to pull back.
Nothing.
“Hey—let go—!”
Its grip tightened slightly.
Not crushing.
Controlling.
Its eyes flicked down to the knife.
Then back up to him.
“You don’t know what you are yet,” it said.
Bode’s stomach dropped.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Before it could answer—
A blur hit it from the side.
Derek.
Hard.
They crashed into a nearby tree so violently bark exploded outward.
Bode scrambled back, gasping.
“Derek!” he shouted.
Derek didn’t look at him.
“RUN!” he barked again.
Bode hesitated for half a second—
Then did.
He sprinted again through the trees, but now the forest felt different.
Wrong.
Like it was no longer just hiding things.
Like it was participating.
The fog thickened ahead of him unnaturally fast.
Too fast for weather.
He pushed through it—
And stopped short.
A road.
Empty.
Old asphalt cutting through the woods like a scar.
Beacon Hills Preserve signage half-rotted on one side.
Civilization.
Sort of.
Bode stumbled onto the edge of it, chest heaving, turning instinctively back toward the trees.
Nothing followed him immediately.
But he didn’t believe that meant he was safe.
Not for a second.
Behind him, deep in the forest, another crash sounded—closer this time.
Derek again.
Still fighting.
Still buying him time.
Bode stared into the trees, jaw tight, breathing hard.
“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “Okay, okay, okay…”
He looked both ways down the road.
Nothing.
No cars.
No lights.
Just fog rolling low across asphalt like the world hadn’t decided whether it was done with him yet.
Another sound behind him.
Closer.
Bode made a decision.
He ran.
Across the road.
Into the trees on the other side.
Because whatever was out there—
he wasn’t waiting to find out if it could cross pavement too.
Bode didn’t stop running until his legs started to fail him.
Even then, he didn’t really stop.
He just slowed down enough that the world stopped blurring quite so violently at the edges.
The forest on the far side of the road felt different.
Quieter.
Not safe—nothing in Beacon Hills felt safe—but… regulated. Like something had drawn an invisible line and said not here.
Bode pressed a hand against a tree trunk and sucked in air that felt like it had teeth.
His ribs ached from the fall.
His shoulder throbbed where the branch had caught him.
Everything else was adrenaline and shock trying to decide what to become next.
He glanced back toward the road.
Fog swallowed it almost immediately.
No movement.
No sign of Derek.
No sign of—
Bode forced himself not to finish that thought either.
Instead, he tightened his grip on the knife again.
Still there.
Still real.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. So I’m hallucinating. Or I’m dying. Or I’m in one of those ‘psychological breakdown in the woods’ situations.”
None of those options felt comforting.
A distant sound rolled through the trees again.
Not a howl this time.
Something sharper.
Like a bark.
Like a command.
Bode flinched anyway.
Then—
silence.
Too clean.
Too sudden.
He waited.
Counted his breaths without meaning to.
One.
Two.
Three.
Nothing followed.
He exhaled slowly.
“Great,” he muttered. “Love that. Super helpful forest. Five stars.”
He pushed off the tree and started moving again—but slower now. Controlled. Careful.
Every step deliberate.
Every sound weighed.
The forest here wasn’t as thick. The trees spaced wider, letting pale fog drift between them like something alive and curious.
Bode kept his knife low but ready.
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting anymore.
More of that thing.
More of Derek.
More explanations that didn’t make sense.
What he got instead was something far more ordinary—and somehow worse.
A smell.
Smoke.
Real smoke.
Campfire smoke.
Bode froze.
His head lifted slowly.
Through the fog ahead—
a faint glow.
Orange.
Flickering.
Not the violent blue of a gas station fire.
Not the unnatural flashes of whatever had been chasing him.
A real fire.
Controlled.
Contained.
Human.
Bode hesitated.
Then took a cautious step forward.
Another.
The glow sharpened.
A small clearing opened ahead, partially hidden by brush.
And there—
a fire.
Low, steady.
A figure sitting near it.
Still.
Watching the flames like they had all the time in the world.
Bode stopped at the edge of the clearing, breathing shallow.
Knife raised slightly again without him even thinking about it.
“Okay,” he called out carefully. “I’m gonna need you to tell me you’re not also… whatever the hell that was.”
The figure didn’t react immediately.
Just shifted slightly.
Then spoke.
Calm.
Familiar.
“You picked a bad night to camp in the preserve.”
Bode froze.
That voice.
He knew that voice.
Slowly, carefully, the figure turned just enough for the firelight to catch his face.
Derek.
Alive.
Bruised.
Breathing hard—but steady.
Bode let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“Okay,” Bode said immediately, lowering the knife a fraction. “Great. Cool. You’re alive. That’s—honestly—that’s new information I needed like twenty minutes ago.”
Derek didn’t smile.
Didn’t relax.
Just studied him.
“You ran,” Derek said.
“Yeah,” Bode snapped. “You told me to.”
A beat.
Derek’s gaze shifted briefly to Bode’s shoulder.
To the scratch from the branch.
Then back to his face.
“You shouldn’t have made it to the road that fast,” Derek said.
Bode frowned.
“What does that even mean?”
Derek stood slowly.
And something in the way he moved made the fire feel suddenly smaller.
Not because it dimmed.
Because he didn’t seem affected by it anymore.
“You’re hurt?” Derek asked.
Bode blinked.
“What? No—I mean—yeah, but I’m fine.”
Derek stepped closer.
Bode immediately tensed again.
“Relax,” Derek said flatly.
“Yeah, that’s not really my skill set right now.”
Derek stopped a few feet away.
Close enough that Bode could see the tension still locked in his jaw.
“You saw it,” Derek said.
Bode swallowed.
“That thing? Yeah. Unfortunately.”
A pause.
Then Derek’s voice lowered slightly.
“That wasn’t supposed to be here.”
Bode barked out a short laugh.
“Oh good. Great. Love that for me.”
Derek didn’t react.
Instead, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“You were alone in the preserve,” he said.
“I’ve been alone everywhere,” Bode muttered before he could stop himself.
That landed differently.
Derek went quiet for a moment.
Not softer.
Just… focused.
Like he’d filed that information somewhere important.
Then—
“You’re coming with me,” Derek said.
Bode immediately shook his head.
“Nope.”
Derek didn’t argue this time.
Just looked at him.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Bode gave him a flat stare.
“I literally always have a choice.”
A beat.
Derek stepped back slightly, as if considering him again.
Then—
“You’re already in it,” Derek said quietly.
Bode frowned.
“In what?”
Derek’s gaze held his.
And for the first time since they met, there was something almost tired in it.
“A war,” Derek said.
Bode stared at him.
“…I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “Did you just say a war?”
Derek turned slightly toward the trees.
Listening.
Always listening.
“They’ll come back,” he said.
Bode looked around sharply.
“Who’s ‘they’?”
Derek didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“Everything you just ran from,” he said.
A pause.
Then, quieter:
“And things worse.”
The fire crackled softly between them.
Bode tightened his grip on the knife again without realizing it.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “That’s not really a selling point.”
Derek looked back at him.
“You’re not normal,” he said.
Bode scoffed.
“Wow. Thanks.”
Derek ignored that.
“You survived something tonight that should’ve killed you twice.”
Bode hesitated.
A small, unwanted memory flickered—metal, rain, screaming—
He shoved it down immediately.
“Lucky me,” he muttered.
Derek stepped closer again.
This time, Bode didn’t retreat.
He just stood his ground.
Derek studied him for a long moment.
Then—
“You’re coming with me,” he said again. “And you’re going to learn why.”
A beat.
Bode exhaled slowly.
Then, tired, confused, and still shaking from everything that had just happened—
“Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”
Derek blinked slightly.
That wasn’t the response he expected.
Bode adjusted his grip on the strap of his pack.
“But just so we’re clear,” he added, “I’m not agreeing with any of this. I’m just… temporarily accepting the situation until my brain catches up.”
Derek stared at him.
Then, after a pause—
“Fair,” he said.
And somewhere deep in the woods behind them—
something howled again.
Closer than before.
Bode’s head snapped toward the sound before he could stop himself.
This time it wasn’t distant.
It wasn’t echoing.
It was near.
Too near.
Derek reacted instantly.
The shift in him was immediate—like something inside him had clicked into place.
“Move,” he said sharply.
Bode didn’t argue.
He was already moving.
They cut away from the fire without hesitation, Derek leading now with a purpose that felt less like guidance and more like survival protocol.
Branches slapped at Bode’s arms as he followed, trying to keep pace.
“What is that thing?” Bode hissed as they ran. “Because I swear to God if you say ‘you’ll find out later’ I’m—”
“Alpha,” Derek said.
Bode almost tripped.
“What?”
“Alpha,” Derek repeated, sharper this time. “It found you.”
“That doesn’t help me!”
A sound behind them—fast movement through brush.
Derek spun mid-stride and grabbed Bode by the shoulder, yanking him hard sideways just as something tore through the space he’d been standing in.
Air displaced violently.
Bode hit the ground again—harder this time—but rolled instinctively.
He came up on one knee.
Knife ready.
Heart hammering.
And saw it.
Not fully this time.
Just enough.
A shape between trees.
Watching.
Patient.
Its eyes glowed faintly through the fog like embers under ash.
Then it smiled again.
And vanished.
Bode’s breath came out in a ragged rush.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, that’s not… that’s not even a thing that should be allowed to exist.”
Derek pulled him up.
“No talking,” he said.
Bode jerked his arm back slightly.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need more explanation than that—”
A branch snapped above them.
Derek shoved him forward.
They ran again.
This time deeper into the forest, away from the road, away from the fire, away from anything that looked remotely human.
The terrain started to change.
Steeper.
Rockier.
Like the land itself was trying to push them uphill.
Bode’s lungs burned.
His legs were shaking now—not just from adrenaline, but from exhaustion catching up fast.
“You do this a lot?” he shouted between breaths.
“No,” Derek called back.
“That is not reassuring!”
A low growl rolled through the trees behind them.
Bode felt it more than heard it.
It vibrated in his ribs.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s definitely new on my list of worst nights.”
Derek suddenly stopped at the base of a rocky incline.
A narrow path cut upward between stone and root.
“Up,” Derek ordered.
Bode looked at it.
Then looked back at him.
“You’re kidding.”
Derek didn’t respond.
Another sound behind them—closer again.
Decision made itself.
Bode went.
They climbed fast.
Stone scraped under Bode’s boots, hands grabbing whatever he could to pull himself upward. His shoulder screamed in protest.
Behind them, the forest below exploded with movement.
Something hit the base of the incline hard enough that rocks scattered.
Bode climbed faster.
“Derek!” he shouted. “I am going to need you to explain why the woods are trying to kill me!”
“Because you’re marked,” Derek said simply.
Bode froze mid-climb for half a second.
“What does that MEAN?”
“Keep moving.”
“Not until you—”
A roar cut through the trees below them.
Not animal.
Not human.
Something in between both, stretched and wrong.
Bode climbed.
Harder.
They reached the top of the incline and broke through into a narrow ridge overlooking the preserve.
Wind hit them instantly—cold, sharp, carrying the entire forest beneath them like a living thing.
Bode bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
“Okay,” he gasped. “Okay, I’m officially filing a complaint with nature.”
Derek stood at the ridge edge, scanning below.
Focused.
Listening again.
Always listening.
Bode straightened slowly.
“So,” he said, still breathing hard, “you gonna tell me what that thing is now? Or are we doing the mysterious silence routine again?”
Derek didn’t look at him.
“It’s a feral hybrid,” he said.
Bode blinked.
“…a what?”
“Not human,” Derek said. “Not wolf.”
“That narrows it down to basically everything tonight.”
Derek finally glanced at him.
And this time, there was something colder in his expression.
“Listen carefully,” he said.
Bode hesitated.
Then nodded once.
Derek stepped closer.
“You didn’t just see it,” he said. “It saw you back.”
A pause.
Bode swallowed.
“That seems like a bad thing.”
“It is,” Derek said.
Silence stretched between them again, heavier now.
Below them, the forest moved.
Not randomly.
Not blindly.
Searching.
Derek’s voice dropped lower.
“If it found you once,” he said, “it’ll do it again.”
Bode let out a slow breath.
“Great,” he muttered. “So I’ve upgraded from ‘homeless in the woods’ to ‘targeted by monster in the woods.’”
Derek didn’t respond to that.
Instead, he turned slightly.
“Come on,” he said.
Bode frowned. “Where?”
Derek started walking.
“To people who already know what you are,” he said.
Bode followed after a beat.
“What I am?” he echoed.
Derek didn’t answer immediately.
Then, quietly—
“We’ll figure that out.”
Bode glanced back once toward the dark forest below.
Something moved there again.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then he turned forward.
And followed Derek Hale into Beacon Hills.
The ridge narrowed the farther they went.
Rock gave way to uneven trail, then to something closer to a forgotten service path—half-swallowed by roots and overgrowth, like the forest had been slowly reclaiming it for years.
Bode stayed close behind Derek without being told to this time.
Not because he trusted him.
Because whatever was behind them had removed the option of not trusting him.
Every few seconds, Bode found himself glancing back anyway.
Nothing visible.
That didn’t mean anything here.
“So,” Bode said between breaths, forcing his voice to stay level, “just to clarify… I’m following a guy I met an hour ago through a monster forest because he said I’m ‘marked’ by a… feral hybrid.”
Derek didn’t slow down.
“Yes.”
Bode nodded slowly.
“Cool. Coolcoolcool. That’s—yeah—that’s exactly the kind of answer I was hoping for.”
Derek finally spoke again.
“You talk too much when you’re nervous.”
“I’ve been attacked by—whatever that was,” Bode shot back. “I think I’m allowed to process out loud.”
A beat.
Derek didn’t respond.
Bode exhaled sharply and pushed through a low-hanging branch.
The path began to slope downward again, this time toward distant, faint lights between the trees.
Not headlights.
Stationary.
Warm.
Human.
Bode noticed them at the same time his body noticed something else—his adrenaline starting to plateau.
Which was worse, in a way.
Because now the shock was wearing off.
And everything hurt.
“Hey,” he called out, quieter now, “you said there were people who know what I am.”
Derek gave a slight nod.
“Yeah.”
“Like… know know?” Bode asked. “Or like ‘we have a weird hobby’ know?”
Derek glanced back at him briefly.
“Know know.”
Bode stared at him.
“…that’s not comforting.”
They broke through the last line of dense trees.
And the world opened up.
A house sat tucked into the hillside ahead—older, worn, partially hidden by forest canopy but clearly maintained. A soft glow came from inside. Windows lit. Life inside.
Safe, in theory.
Bode stopped at the edge of the trees.
For the first time since the truck, since the preserve, since Riley—
his body hesitated.
Derek noticed immediately.
“Don’t,” Derek said quietly.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t run.”
Bode let out a short laugh.
“I’m kind of out of running options, man.”
Derek studied him for a moment.
Then turned slightly toward the house.
“They’re not the enemy,” he said.
Bode narrowed his eyes.
“That’s not what you said about literally everything else tonight.”
A pause.
Then Derek added, almost reluctantly:
“They’re your best chance at staying alive.”
That landed differently.
Bode’s expression tightened.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s also not super reassuring.”
Derek stepped forward.
Bode followed after a second.
Each step toward the house felt heavier than the last.
Like crossing into something he couldn’t undo.
The porch light flickered slightly as they approached.
And then—
the door opened.
A woman stood there first.
Middle-aged. Tired eyes. The kind of posture that said she’d dealt with too many emergencies to react to panic anymore.
Her gaze immediately locked onto Derek.
Then shifted to Bode.
And stopped.
Bode felt it instantly.
That look.
The one that measured damage before asking questions.
Derek spoke first.
“He’s new,” he said simply.
The woman’s expression didn’t change.
“Clearly,” she replied.
Bode exhaled slowly.
“Hi,” he said carefully. “Before anything starts, I just want to say—this is not how I normally spend my nights.”
A beat.
The woman blinked once.
Then looked at Derek.
“…you brought him here like this?”
Derek’s jaw tightened slightly.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
Bode raised a hand slightly.
“I feel like I should clarify that I also did not have a choice in any of this—”
“Inside,” the woman said immediately.
Bode paused.
“…okay, see, that tone usually means I’m about to have a worse night.”
Derek stepped aside.
“Go,” he said.
Bode hesitated again.
Then walked up the steps.
Each creak of the porch boards felt too loud in the quiet.
When he crossed the threshold—
warm air hit him.
Light.
Smell of coffee.
Safety that didn’t feel real.
The woman shut the door behind them.
Bode stood just inside the doorway, the warmth of the house pressing against him like something unfamiliar pretending to be safe.
And the lock clicked.
Final.
That sound lingered more than it should have.
Bode turned slowly.
“…so,” he said quietly, “I’m guessing this is the part where someone explains what the hell a feral hyprid is.”
Silence.
Then a voice from deeper inside the house:
“Actually,” a new man said, calm and assessing, “this is the part where we explain what you are.”
Bode closed his eyes for half a second.
Then opened them again.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Of course it is.”
And somewhere far beyond the house—
deep in the forest—
something stopped searching.
Because now it knew exactly where he was.
Inside, the room was dim but lived-in—couch slightly worn, scattered papers on a table, the faint hum of a fridge somewhere deeper in the house. Normal things. Human things.
After the forest, it almost felt wrong.
Bode slowly turned back toward the room.
“Okay,” he said carefully, voice lower now, “I’m gonna need someone to explain what just tried to eat me in a way that doesn’t sound like a bedtime story gone wrong.”
The woman from the doorway stood near the kitchen entrance now, arms folded.
Derek stayed near the wall—close enough to intervene, far enough not to crowd.
And then the third voice spoke again.
“You’re lucky you made it to the road.”
Bode turned.
A man leaned against the hallway archway, calm in a way that didn’t match the situation. Older, observant eyes. The kind of presence that didn’t raise his voice because he didn’t need to.
Bode frowned slightly.
“…yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot tonight.”
The man pushed off the wall and stepped forward.
“Derek says you saw it.”
Bode let out a short breath.
“Yeah. ‘It’ being a glowing, smiley nightmare that doesn’t understand personal space.”
The man’s expression tightened slightly at that.
Derek spoke from behind him.
“It wasn’t a regular Alpha.”
That made the room shift.
Not physically.
But noticeably.
Like everyone understood exactly what that distinction meant.
Bode picked up on it immediately.
“…a regular what?”
The woman exhaled through her nose.
“Sit down,” she said.
Bode blinked.
“Respectfully,” he replied, “I don’t think sitting is gonna improve my understanding of anything that happened in the last hour.”
“Sit,” Derek said—firmer this time.
Bode looked at him.
Then at the couch.
Then slowly lowered himself onto the edge of it, still tense enough to spring up if needed.
“Okay,” he muttered. “I’m sitting. I’m uncomfortable. I’m listening. I hate this.”
The older man studied him for a moment.
Then said:
“What attacked you wasn’t a true Alpha.”
Bode frowned.
“That’s already a weird phrase.”
“It was something worse,” Derek added quietly.
A pause.
Bode’s eyes flicked between them.
“…you’re really selling this whole situation, you know that?”
The woman stepped closer slightly.
“It’s a feral hybrid,” she said.
That landed heavier than anything else so far.
Bode blinked.
“…a feral what?”
Derek’s jaw tightened.
“Someone who shouldn’t have the power they have,” he said. “And doesn’t have control over it.”
The older man continued, voice steady.
“A Wolf turned Alpha without stability. No pack structure. No balance. Just power—and impulse.”
Bode sat back slightly.
“So… like a rabid super-wolf.”
“That’s one way to put it,” the woman said.
Bode stared at her.
“I hate that that’s not even the weirdest thing I’ve heard tonight.”
Derek stepped forward slightly.
“It’s been killing in the preserve for weeks,” he said.
Bode frowned.
“Okay, cool, love that I picked the vacation destination with the murder wildlife.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“It noticed you.”
Bode’s humor faded.
“…yeah,” he said quietly. “It did.”
Derek nodded once.
“That’s the problem.”
Silence settled.
Not heavy.
Not calm.
Just waiting.
Bode rubbed a hand over his face slowly.
“So let me get this straight,” he said. “There’s a feral… hybrid… thing running around your woods, and it saw me specifically and decided I was… interesting.”
Derek didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
Bode exhaled.
“…that’s not great.”
“No,” the woman agreed. “It isn’t.”
A beat.
Then Bode looked up.
“Why me?”
No one answered immediately.
The older man studied him again.
Longer this time.
Like he was looking for something under the surface.
Derek’s voice came quieter.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Bode gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “Cool. Awesome. I love mystery trauma.”
He leaned back slightly into the couch.
Then immediately tensed again.
“…so what now?” he asked.
Derek glanced toward the window.
Dark forest outside.
Watching.
Always watching.
“Now,” Derek said, “we make sure it doesn’t follow you in here.”
Bode went still.
“…it can do that?”
No one answered right away.
And that silence said everything.
Somewhere outside—
a branch snapped.
Slow.
Deliberate.
And the house, for the first time, no longer felt like the end of something.
It felt like the beginning of a siege.
Chapter 2: Learning About The Supernatural - Introductions Are Made
Chapter Text
And the house, for the first time, no longer felt like the end of something.
It felt like the beginning of a siege.
The words seemed to settle into the room like dust that refused to move.
Bode didn’t speak immediately.
Neither did anyone else.
Then—
“You should know something before we go further.”
The older man’s voice broke the silence cleanly. Controlled. Intentional.
Bode looked at him.
“Love when sentences start like that,” he muttered.
The man ignored that entirely.
“I’m Dr. Deaton.”
Bode gave a short nod. “Yeah, got it. Very ominous energy.”
Deaton didn’t react.
Instead, he continued.
“This is Melissa McCall.”
The woman gave a small, steady nod from the kitchen entrance.
Bode mirrored it slightly. “Hi. You seem like the only one here with normal human pacing.”
Melissa’s mouth twitched—almost a smile, but restrained.
Deaton gestured next.
“And you’ve met Derek.”
Bode glanced at Derek.
“…unfortunately, yeah.”
Derek didn’t respond.
Then Deaton added, “And this is Scott McCall.”
Bode turned.
The teenage boy stepped forward slightly from the edge of the room.
Not threatening.
Not casual either.
Just… alert.
Like someone who had learned very quickly that standing still didn’t mean being safe.
“Scott,” he said.
Bode studied him for a second.
“You look like you’ve had a week.”
Scott let out a short breath. “You have no idea.”
That got a faint, tired exhale out of Bode.
“Yeah,” he said. “Fair.”
A beat passed.
Then Bode shifted slightly on the couch.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m Bode, by the way. Since we’re doing introductions in the middle of… whatever this is.”
Scott nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Bode gave him a look.
“I feel like that’s technically true, but emotionally inaccurate.”
Scott huffed a small laugh.
Derek spoke again, cutting through it.
“You were both targeted.”
That pulled the room back into focus immediately.
Bode’s expression changed.
“…me and him?” he asked, glancing at Scott.
Scott nodded once.
“In the woods,” Scott said. “Same thing happened to me. Not the exact same encounter—but close enough.”
Bode frowned.
“So there’s a pattern now.”
Deaton nodded. “Yes.”
Melissa stepped slightly forward.
“Whatever is out there,” she said carefully, “it’s not just hunting randomly.”
Derek’s voice stayed low.
“It’s choosing.”
That word made Bode sit a little straighter.
“…choosing,” he repeated.
Scott glanced at Derek. “Or reacting.”
Derek didn’t disagree.
Deaton continued.
“The entity you saw—what we believe to be a feral hybrid Alpha—has been operating without restraint or pack structure. That level of instability creates… unpredictable behavior.”
Bode leaned forward slightly.
“So it’s broken,” he said.
“Functionally,” Deaton agreed.
Bode exhaled slowly.
“Great. I got picked by the broken one.”
Scott shifted.
“You didn’t get picked,” he said quickly. “It… noticed you.”
Bode pointed slightly at him.
“That sounds worse.”
“It is,” Derek said.
Silence again.
Then Bode rubbed a hand down his face.
“Okay,” he said. “So I’m in a house with werewolves.”
Scott blinked. “Yeah.”
Bode looked at Melissa. “You’re a nurse and you’re not reacting enough to that sentence.”
Melissa gave him a tired look.
“I work in an emergency department,” she said. “This is not the strangest night I’ve had this week.”
Bode stared at her.
“…I respect that. I fear it, but I respect it.”
Deaton spoke again.
“You are not wrong,” he said. “There are werewolves.”
Bode leaned back slightly.
“That’s going to take a while to fully accept.”
“No one expects you to accept it immediately,” Scott said.
Bode looked at him again.
“…you’re surprisingly calm about me not believing any of this.”
Scott gave a small shrug.
“I didn’t believe it either. At first.”
Derek’s voice cut in.
“He doesn’t have that luxury anymore.”
Scott shot him a brief look but didn’t argue.
Bode caught that exchange.
“…so you’re all kind of in a club,” he said. “With trauma and teeth.”
Scott exhaled. “Yeah. That’s… not inaccurate.”
Bode looked at Deaton again.
“And the thing in the woods?”
Deaton’s expression grew more serious.
“We believe it is an Alpha,” he said.
Bode frowned.
“Okay, but you said ‘regular/True Alpha’ earlier like there are levels of this.”
Scott nodded slightly.
“There are,” he said. “Most Alphas take power through force. Killing. Dominance.”
Derek’s jaw tightened faintly.
“Most,” he repeated.
Scott continued.
“A True Alpha is… different. Rare. It’s earned, not taken.”
Bode narrowed his eyes.
“And you guys are telling me that’s a thing that exists in reality.”
Scott nodded again.
Bode leaned back.
“…this is so much worse than I thought it was going to be when I woke up this morning.”
No one argued.
Then Deaton spoke again, quieter now.
“The Alpha in the forest is not stable enough to be either category cleanly.”
Bode frowned.
“So what is it then?”
Deaton hesitated slightly.
“A hybrid state,” he said carefully. “Something corrupted. Unbalanced.”
Scott added quietly, “And angry.”
Bode looked between them.
“And it’s been killing people.”
Derek nodded once.
“And it saw you.”
Bode exhaled slowly.
“…yeah,” he said. “It really liked that part, apparently.”
Silence.
Then Melissa spoke gently.
“We don’t think it’s about liking.”
Bode looked at her.
“What then?”
Her voice softened slightly.
“Awareness.”
That word sat differently.
Scott shifted slightly.
“I felt it too,” he admitted. “When it noticed me. Like something… locked on.”
Bode looked at him.
“So we’re both on its radar.”
Scott nodded.
“Yeah.”
Bode sat back again.
“…awesome.”
A pause.
Then he frowned slightly.
“Wait,” he said. “You keep saying ‘noticed.’ Like that means something specific.”
Deaton’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“It does.”
Derek added, quieter, “Most humans don’t register to it that way.”
Bode frowned.
“And we do.”
Scott nodded again.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he said. “Why.”
Bode looked down at his hands for a moment.
Then back up.
“And you think I’m… what? Special?”
Scott shook his head immediately. “No. Not like that.”
Deaton corrected gently.
“Not special. But possibly… attuned.”
Bode frowned harder.
“That word keeps coming up and I hate it.”
Melissa stepped forward slightly.
“Think of it like sensitivity,” she said. “Some people react to things others can’t perceive.”
Scott added, “Like a signal.”
Derek’s eyes stayed fixed on Bode.
“A signal it can hear,” he said.
Bode went quiet.
That landed differently.
“…that’s not great,” he said finally.
“No,” Derek agreed.
A beat.
Then Bode exhaled slowly.
“So what now?”
Deaton looked at him steadily.
“Now,” he said, “we determine exactly what kind of signal you are.”
Scott glanced at Bode.
“And how to make sure it doesn’t pull everything else to you.”
Bode gave a short, humorless laugh.
“…love that I’m apparently a lighthouse for murder wolves.”
No one corrected him.
Outside, the forest remained still.
But not empty.
And somewhere deep beyond the trees—
something waited with patient attention.
The room stayed quiet for a few seconds after that.
Not the comfortable kind of quiet.
The kind where everyone was thinking faster than they were speaking.
Bode shifted slightly on the couch, as if his body was testing whether this was still real.
“…okay,” he said finally, voice lower. “So just to confirm I didn’t hallucinate an entire career change—there are werewolves. There’s an Alpha. It’s unstable. And I’m apparently a… signal tower for it.”
Scott gave a small nod. “Yeah. That’s basically it.”
Bode stared at him.
“I need you to understand how insane it is that you said that like it was weather.”
Scott hesitated, then shrugged faintly. “It stops sounding insane after a while.”
“That is not comforting,” Bode said immediately.
Derek pushed off the wall slightly, stepping closer to the center of the room.
“It shouldn’t be comforting,” he said. “It should be accurate.”
Bode looked at him.
“…you really commit to the tone, huh?”
Derek didn’t respond.
Melissa exhaled quietly, then folded her arms.
“We also need to be clear about something else,” she said.
Bode looked at her.
“I feel like every time someone says that, my life gets worse.”
“It’s not about worse,” Melissa said gently. “It’s about context.”
Deaton nodded once.
“You are not the only one this creature has reacted to,” he said.
Scott glanced at him. “We think there are patterns.”
Bode frowned.
“Patterns like what?”
Deaton hesitated.
“Locations. Emotional spikes. People in transitional states.”
Bode gave him a flat look.
“…did you just describe my entire life?”
Scott made a small sound—almost a laugh, but it didn’t fully form.
Derek’s voice cut in again, low.
“Edgewater.”
Bode went still.
That single word hit harder than anything supernatural had.
“…don’t,” he said quietly.
Derek didn’t stop.
“It wasn’t random you came here.”
Bode’s jaw tightened.
“It was,” he said immediately. “I ran out of money. That’s called ‘random.’ That’s called ‘bad planning.’”
Scott looked at him more carefully now.
“You didn’t have anywhere else to go?”
Bode didn’t answer right away.
That hesitation said enough.
Melissa’s expression softened slightly.
“Beacon Hills isn’t exactly a coincidence town,” she said.
Bode let out a short, humorless breath.
“Yeah, I’m noticing.”
Deaton folded his hands again.
“There are individuals,” he said carefully, “who seem to draw supernatural attention without being part of it.”
Bode frowned.
“Like magnets.”
“Like thresholds,” Deaton corrected.
Scott glanced at Bode. “Or… openings.”
Bode pointed at him slightly.
“You say that like I’m a door.”
Scott hesitated. “Not a door. More like—”
Derek cut in.
“A point of contact.”
That made Bode pause.
“…I hate all of your metaphors.”
No one argued.
Then Bode leaned forward slightly.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s back up. Because I feel like I’m missing something important.”
Deaton nodded once. “Ask.”
Bode gestured vaguely between all of them.
“You’re werewolves. That’s established. Fine. But you keep acting like this thing—this Alpha—is different from the rest of you.”
Scott’s expression tightened slightly.
“It is,” he said.
Derek added, “It doesn’t have control.”
Bode looked at him.
“And you do?”
A beat.
Derek didn’t answer immediately.
Scott spoke instead, quieter.
“We’re learning control.”
Bode looked between them.
“That’s not a yes.”
Scott didn’t argue.
Melissa stepped in gently.
“Control is part of what makes pack structure important,” she said. “Without it, instincts take over.”
Bode leaned back slightly.
“Instincts like killing people.”
Scott nodded once, reluctantly.
“Yes.”
Silence settled again.
Then Bode exhaled slowly.
“…cool,” he muttered. “So I’m in the middle of a supernatural ecosystem with hierarchy issues and a serial murder problem.”
Deaton nodded. “In essence.”
Bode stared at the ceiling for a second.
“I really should’ve stayed in Oregon.”
Scott glanced at him.
“What happened in Oregon?”
Bode went quiet.
That question landed somewhere deeper than the rest.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“…nothing,” he said finally.
Derek’s eyes narrowed faintly, like he didn’t believe him, but didn’t push.
Deaton, however, studied Bode differently now.
Not as a patient.
Not as a victim.
As a variable.
“You said earlier,” Deaton began carefully, “that you saw it clearly.”
Bode blinked.
“Yeah.”
“And it saw you.”
Bode nodded again.
“Yeah.”
Scott shifted slightly.
“And when it did… you didn’t run immediately.”
Bode gave him a flat look.
“I did run. I just also nearly got turned into forest decoration first.”
Scott shook his head slightly.
“That’s not what I mean.”
Bode frowned.
Deaton clarified.
“You stayed long enough for recognition to occur.”
Bode stared at him.
“…I don’t think I had a choice in that.”
Derek’s voice was quiet.
“You did. You hesitated.”
Bode went still.
“…I did not.”
Scott nodded once.
“You did.”
That landed uncomfortably.
Bode looked between them.
“I was busy not dying,” he said.
“And yet,” Deaton replied calmly, “something in you registered it.”
Silence.
Then Bode rubbed his face again.
“…I hate that this is becoming a theme,” he muttered.
Scott leaned forward slightly.
“I know it sounds like a lot,” he said. “But… when I was bitten, I didn’t understand anything either. It took time.”
Bode looked at him.
“And now you’re… what, part-time werewolf expert?”
Scott gave a small, awkward shrug. “Something like that.”
Derek’s voice was blunt.
“He’s better than most.”
Scott shot him a look. “That’s not a compliment I asked for.”
Bode exhaled a short laugh despite himself.
“…okay,” he said. “I’m starting to understand the group dynamic a little.”
Melissa glanced between them.
“That’s good,” she said softly.
Bode pointed slightly.
“No, it’s not. It means I’m acclimating to horror movie logic.”
Deaton’s expression stayed steady.
“This is your reality now,” he said.
Bode went quiet again.
Then nodded once.
“…yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m starting to get that.”
A beat passed.
Then Scott spoke again, softer.
“You’re not alone in it, though.”
Bode looked at him.
For a moment, the sarcasm faded from his face.
“…yeah,” he said again, quieter this time. “You keep saying that.”
Scott didn’t respond.
Because he understood what that actually meant.
Derek glanced toward the window again.
The forest outside was still dark.
Still waiting.
And somewhere in it—
something shifted again.
Not close enough to see.
But close enough to know it was still there.