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Scott McCall couldn't sleep.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his leg bouncing restlessly. His entire body felt… wrong. No—too right. Every nerve was alive, every muscle coiled with energy he didn't understand.
"i can't sit still…" he muttered under his breath.
His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears.
No—not just his.
He could hear everything.
The ticking clock downstairs. The hum of the refrigerator. A dog barking three houses away.
Scott sat up abruptly.
"What is happening to me…?"
He stumbled into the bathroom and gripped the sink, breathing hard. Slowly, he raised his head—
—and froze.
His eyes flickered.
Yellow.
He staggered back. "No… no, no, no—"
His fingers tightened.
CRACK.
The porcelain sink fractured under his grip.
Scott stared at it, horrified.
"I didn't— I didn't even—"
A low growl escaped his throat.
He covered his mouth instantly.
"…Okay. Okay, I need help."
****
"Okay… I'm just gonna say it."
Stiles Stilinski stood in the doorway, staring at the broken sink, the cracked tiles, and Scott pacing like a caged animal.
"You either got into a fight with a gorilla…" he said slowly, "…or you're turning into a werewolf."
Scott stopped.
"…What?"
Stiles shrugged nervously. "Don't look at me like that—I've seen movies."
Scott ran his hands through his hair. "Stiles, I'm serious! Something's wrong with me! I can hear things, I feel—" He clenched his fist.
CRUNCH.
The edge of the desk dented under his grip.
They both stared at it.
Stiles took a slow step back.
"Okay… new rule," he said. "No touching anything… or anyone… or me specifically. Especially me."
Despite the tension, Scott let out a shaky laugh.
"I don't know what's happening…"
Stiles hesitated, then stepped closer again, more careful this time.
"Hey," he said, softer. "Whatever this is… we'll figure it out. You're not dealing with this alone."
Scott looked at him, grateful—but then his expression shifted.
His head snapped toward the window.
"…I need to go."
"What? Where?"
Scott didn't answer. He just moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
"Scott!" Stiles groaned, running after him. "If we die tonight, I just want you to know—I had plans! None of them included being eaten by my best friend!"
The woods.
Scott didn't remember deciding to come here.
But his body knew.
Every step felt natural. Instinctive.
He moved between trees like he belonged there.
Behind him, Stiles stumbled over branches.
"I hate the woods," Stiles muttered. "Nothing good ever happens in the woods. Serial killers live here. Wolves live here. You might live here now—"
Scott stopped.
His breathing changed.
Slow.
Deep.
Predatory.
"Scott…?" Stiles whispered.
Scott dropped low, his body shifting slightly as a growl rumbled in his chest.
Something was out there.
Watching.
From the shadows, unseen—
Arthur Corvinus observed.
Perched silently on a high branch, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the darkness, snow-white hair barely visible against the moonlight.
His gaze was fixed on Scott.
"Right on schedule…" he murmured internally.
The bite. The confusion. The instability.
He had seen it all before.
Just not like this.
"Scott McCall… the future True Alpha, show me what you can do"
But something felt off.
Different.
Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly.
"No… this isn't exactly how it happened."
Below, Scott's growl deepened.
Then—
From somewhere in the darkness:
"tsk… those popsicles are joining the chaos."
Arthur's gaze shifted instantly.
Vampires.
He could feel them —cold, unnatural presences slipping through the trees.
"Earlier than expected…" he thought.
This world… was diverging.
A sudden rustle.
Scott moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
He lunged toward the sound—
A wounded animal—or something else—barely had time to react.
Scott pinned it down, claws forming, fangs descending—
He was about to kill.
"SCOTT!"
Stiles' voice cut through the night.
"That's not you!"
Scott froze.
His entire body trembled violently.
His claws hovered inches from tearing flesh.
"I… I almost…"
His voice broke.
Stiles stepped closer, even though fear was written all over his face.
"Yeah," he said carefully. "You almost did."
A beat.
"But you didn't."
Scott slowly pulled back, breathing heavily, eyes still glowing.
"That counts."
Elsewhere in the woods—
Hunters moved in formation.
Silent. Armed. Precise.
"We're picking up movement," one said quietly.
"There's another one…" another replied. "We missed one."
Weapons shifted.
Eyes scanned the darkness.
They had no idea how many monsters were in the forest tonight.
Back in the clearing—
Scott staggered.
The energy inside him spiked—
Then crashed.
He collapsed.
"Scott!" Stiles caught him, barely managing to keep him upright. "Hey! Hey, don't do that! I am NOT emotionally prepared for this!"
Scott didn't respond.
His eyes flickered once more—
Yellow.
Then faded.
Stiles swallowed hard, tightening his grip.
"You're okay… you're okay… I got you…"
Above them—
Arthur watched in silence.
Unmoving.
Calculating.
'he manage to pull it off. thanks to stiles' he thought.
"Unstable… but he resisted."
That alone made Scott different.
Interesting. he smiled
Arthur turned slightly, sensing the hunters… the vampires… all converging.
The board was set.
And the game had begun.
His crimson eyes glowed faintly.
"The story begins…"
A pause.
"…but this time—"
His gaze returned to Scott McCall.
"…it won't follow the script."