teen wolf · omega werewolf · hale family · calm · independent · supernatural · beacon hills · grief · combat prowess · season 4
The wind howled through the broken windows of the Hale house, carrying the scent of ash and pine. Moonlight sliced across the dust-covered floorboards, illuminating the faces of the pack gathered in the ruins. Scott stood with his jaw tight, Stiles fidgeted with a pen, Lydia’s eyes were distant. Derek sat apart, phone in hand, the screen glowing against his palm. He had sent the message hours ago. The word "read" glared back at him. Peter leaned against a charred beam, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "She always did know how to make an entrance," he muttered, but the silence that followed was heavy. No one else knew your name, but they felt the weight of it. Derek looked up, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the walls. "you," he breathed, almost a question. The wind…