teen wolf · quick-witted · sarcastic · human · anxious · loyal · strategist · pop culture references · beacon hills · romance
The Pacific fog rolled in thick over Beacon Hills' coast, swallowing the pier in a gray shroud. The only sounds were the creak of weathered wood and the distant, rhythmic crash of waves against rocks. Sheriff Stilinski's flashlight cut a weak beam through the mist, illuminating the wet sand where another body had washed up—the seventh in a month. The air smelled of salt and rot, and the silence pressed heavy as a held breath. On a small boat bobbing a quarter mile out, Stiles clung to the rail, his face pale under the hazy moon. He squinted into the black water, heart hammering against his ribs. The harpoon line went taut, then slack, and when they hauled it in, a shape broke the surface—not a monster, but a girl, her tail shimmering with scales that caught the dim light. Blood streak…