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The night air in Beacon Hills carried a quiet tension.
It had been days since the attack in the woods.
Days since Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski had run for their lives beneath the trees, chased by something faster, stronger… something inhuman.
Now, the truth was beginning to take shape.
From a distance, hidden within the shadows of the treeline, Arthur Corvinus stood with three silent figures beside him—the vampires. Their presence was still, predatory, their eyes fixed on the two boys below as if watching prey… or perhaps a story unfolding.
Arthur crossed his arms, gaze focused.
Scott stood near the edge of the forest, breathing unevenly. Stiles paced beside him, restless, anxious energy barely contained.
"It was him," Scott said, voice low but certain. "The one that attacked us."
Stiles stopped pacing. "You mean the creepy, glowing-eyes guy? Yeah, I figured that much."
Scott shook his head. "No… not just any werewolf."
His voice tightened.
That was Arthur's cue.
He stepped out from the shadows.
Leaves crunched softly under his boots.
Both boys turned instantly.
Stiles jumped. "Okay! Nope! That's new! Why do people keep appearing out of nowhere?!"
Scott narrowed his eyes slightly. "Arthur…"
"Peter Hale," Arthur said
"He's the one who attacked you scott."
Arthur's expression was calm, yet a shadow crossed his features as he stepped forward.
"It isn't random, Scott," he said. "There's a history here—one that you need to understand if you intend to survive."
Scott and Stiles turned their attention to him, the curiosity in their eyes blending with caution. Arthur began, voice low and deliberate:
"Six years ago, deep in these woods, a family was burned alive by another. The house, the land… everything they had, destroyed in a single night. The perpetrators were not ordinary humans—they were hunters, a line of warriors who had devoted themselves to eradicating the supernatural."
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle.
"The family you now know as the Argents… they were responsible. They came back three years ago with a vengeance, planning to end those who survived, including myself and those who protected me. Their bloodline is ancient, predating much of what you know about the supernatural world."
Stiles whistled softly, audibly horrified.
"Wait… you're telling me the Argent family isn't just a normal family. but a family of hunters—they're basically… hardcore killer royalty?"
Arthur gave a faint smirk.
"They are one of the oldest werewolf-hunting families in existence. They train, strategize, and execute. Every action is calculated. Their presence in Beacon Hills is… dangerous. And now, Scott, you are involved in this world. Being close to Allison Argent carries its risks."
Scott's eyes widened. A mix of shock and guilt surged within him. His thoughts immediately returned to Allison—the girl he had grown close to, the one who had come into his life in ways he hadn't expected.
Scott could feel the weight of the story pressing down on him, his sense of self colliding with his burgeoning feelings for Allison.
"But… we're friends," he said softly. "Allison… she's different."
Arthur's crimson eyes lingered on him, unwavering.
"Perhaps. But the history of her family doesn't change. You need to understand that your relationship now carries the same danger her family represents. One misstep, and lives—yours, hers, others—could be lost."
Scott nodded, though his mind was far away, replaying a night from weeks ago—one that had changed everything between him and Allison.
Stiles let out a nervous laugh. "Okay—cool—great—so we've got werewolves and ancient hunter families. Awesome."
Arthur ignored him again.
"They've been hunting werewolves for generations," he continued. "And six years ago… they decided to wipe out the Hale pack."
Scott's voice dropped. "They burned them alive."
Arthur nodded once.
"Men, women… children."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Stiles swallowed. "That's… that's not hunting. That's—"
"Slaughter," Arthur finished.
Scott's hands clenched at his sides.
The realization hit fully.
Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "Okay—so let me get this straight. Burned family. Surviving psycho werewolf. Revenge tour."
Arthur gave a slight nod. "That's one way to put it."
Scott's mind was racing.
"But… the Argents…"
Arthur looked directly at him now.
"Yeah."
Scott's breath caught.
"…Allison."
The world shifted— [Flash Back]
Rain poured heavily against the windshield, blurring the road ahead into streaks of light and shadow.
Allison's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
Her breathing was uneven.
The storm had come out of nowhere.
Thunder cracked overhead—
Then—
A sudden shape darted across the road.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh my God—!"
THUD.
The car jolted violently.
Silence followed.
Rain continued to fall.
Allison's hands trembled as she pushed the door open and stepped out into the storm.
The dog lay on the wet asphalt, unmoving.
"No, no, no—" she whispered, panic rising. "Please—please don't—"
It moved.
Barely.
Relief and fear collided at once.
She didn't hesitate.
Carefully, she lifted the injured animal, ignoring the rain soaking through her clothes, and rushed back into the car.
"I've got you," she whispered. "You're okay—you're okay—"
The animal clinic lights cut through the storm.
She burst through the doors.
"Help! Please, someone—!"
From behind the counter, Scott looked up.
"Allison?"
She froze.
"…Scott?"
For a split second, the world narrowed.
Then reality snapped back.
"The dog—please—it's hurt—"
Scott moved immediately.
"Bring it here."
His hands were steady as he examined the injury, voice calm despite the urgency.
"It's okay," he said softly—to the dog, to her, maybe both. "We've got this."
Allison stood close, watching.
Watching how focused he was.
How careful.
How gentle.
Time blurred.
Minutes passed.
Then—
"It's going to be okay," Scott said finally.
Allison let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
"Thank you…"
Their eyes met.
Closer now.
The storm outside faded into the background.
There was something unspoken there—something that had been building for days.
Scott hesitated for only a second.
Then leaned in.
Allison met him halfway.
Their lips pressed together—soft at first, uncertain—
Then deeper.
Warmer.
The tension between them broke all at once, turning into something undeniable. Allison's hand came up, gripping his jacket slightly as she leaned closer. Scott's hand moved gently to her waist, pulling her just enough to close the distance.
The kiss deepened, lingering, filled with everything they hadn't said.
Rain continued to fall outside.
But inside—
Everything else disappeared.
The present snapped back.
Scott stood frozen.
The memory still fresh.
Too fresh.
Arthur watched him carefully.
"You see the problem now."
Scott didn't respond immediately.
His thoughts were tangled—confused—conflicted.
"Allison…" he muttered.
Arthur nodded slightly.
"Her family burned Peter's."
Silence.
Stiles looked between them. "So… dating her is officially complicated, right?"
Arthur exhaled softly.
"That's one word for it."
Scott looked down, struggling.
"She's not like them."
Arthur shrugged.
"Maybe not."
Then he met Scott's eyes.
"But her family is."
Another pause.
"Heads up," Arthur added quietly, "you're not just a guy with a crush anymore."
Scott swallowed.
"You're a werewolf."
The weight of that settled heavily.
Arthur stepped back slightly.
"I gave you the truth."
His voice was calm now.
Neutral.
"Whatever you do with it…"
He turned slightly, already stepping back toward the shadows.
"…that's your choice."
Scott didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Arthur's final words lingered in the air—
"I gave you the information you need."