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A reflection shimmers over the stain of black blood on the pavement on the lowest level of the abandoned mall. Kneeling, Cora slides a fingertip across the dried blood. She breathes in the scent for only a moment when she stands and spins to face..."Just me." Peter holds his hands up, a gesture of peace.
"Your uncle. Uncle Peter."
"Uncle Peter who murdered sister Laura."
"Not my finest hour, no. But I'm hardly the only dysfunctional family member. Did Derek mention he killed me too? Slashed my throat. Ear to ear."
"So that means I should trust you?"
"Actually, I'm wondering if I can trust you."
"Me? You've known me since I was six years old." Cora says defensively.
"I knew a six-year-old. You're not six. Which leaves eleven years unaccounted for. And I'm not particularly fond of things unaccounted." They circle the pool of blood, eyeing each other.
"What are you doing here?"
"Same as you. Wondering where the bodies went. Wondering if they were carried off. Or maybe if one found just enough strength to push himself up from the ground..." Peter gestures to the floor where broken handprints can be seen in the dust near the blood. "...And actually managed to walk away. Leaving the two of us standing here to answer the all-important question..."
"Which one?"
Peter nods and turns to the black droplets leading into the shadows. A trail of blood.
-ʙᴜs-
Zipping up his jacket to cover the blood on his shirt, Scott steps into the aisle. Stiles watches, noticing his unsteady gait with worry. Scott grabs the seat ahead of him, leaning on it to keep himself up as he blinks inching his way toward Maya, Boyd, and Isaac, Scott spots Coach slowly turning toward him, teeth clenched around the whistle.
A phone vibrates. Ethan pulls it out to look at an incoming message, not seeing Boyd now on his feet as well. Maya and Isaac reach for Boyd to pull him back into the seat.
-ꜰʟᴀsʜʙᴀᴄᴋ: ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ ᴄʟɪɴɪᴄ-
Behind the steel table, Deaton glances up at Scott. "Don't stop them. Lead them."
-ʙᴜs-
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