LYCANTHROPY 》𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓀𝒾

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Stiles's Jeep sits atop a rotary lift underneath which a mechanic uses an impact gun to break free a particularly tight bolt on the exhaust. Pushing through the door of the waiting room, Stiles waves his hands, trying to get the Mechanic's attention.

He was complaining to me about them being way too long with it, and that it was a simple to fix, it shouldn't take this long. I told him to talk to the mechanic about it, not me. So, he's doing exactly that.

"Hey, hey! What the hell do you think you're doing? All I needed was the starter." Stiles questioned the mechanic.

"Yeah, but it looks like your whole exhaust system's got to be replaced too." The Mechanic informed Stiles.

"Why do I get the feeling you're slightly overestimating the damage?" Stiles winced.

"Probably going to run about twelve hundred for parts and labour." The Mechanical wasn't lying; I could sense that he was telling the truth. Stiles gave me a look for confirmation about him lying, and I winced, nodding.

Stiles looked annoyed. "Are you kidding? This thing doesn't even have a catalytic converter. And yeah, I know what a catalytic converter is."

"You know what a limited slip differential is?" The Mechanic shot back.

"No," Stiles muttered.

The mechanic eyes the exhaust. "Could be more like fifteen hundred."

"Just finish. I'll be back here. Seething with impotent rage." Stiles muttered angrily to himself and turned on his heel, walking back to the waiting room and I followed. Stiles grabs the waiting room door handle, but his hand slips on a clear, sap-like substance. I frowned and did the same thing, unsure why I did, but I had the same sap-like substance. "Paige, really?"

"What?"  I asked innocently.

"Nice. Sanitary." Stiles rolled his eyes and glanced back over to the mechanic. "Quality establishment you're running here." No longer listening, the Mechanic fires up a drill and gets back to work. I rolled my own eyes and placed my hand back on the door and opened it fully, entering. I walked over to the wipes and began to wipe them off.

I turned around to Stiles, wiping it off on his jeans. "Seriously, Stiles?" I grabbed a few more tissues and walked over to his pants, and began to clean him.

"Paige, stop being a Mom," Stiles whined, taking out his phone.

"Someone has to Mom you." I barely registered the joke I made, and saw Stiles' face fall. "Stiles—"

"No, it's okay," Stiles cracked a small, fake smile. I frowned, feeling guilty. "In fact, it's so okay, I might call Scott and tell him about it."

I giggled, feeling slightly better. But, he was being dead serious as I saw him punch in the numbers. "Stiles, don't!"

"What the..." Stiles muttered. I watched as he takes the phone with his left hand while trying to flex the fingers of his right. But when both hands lose strength, the phone slips from his grasp and clatters to the floor.

"Stiles..." I felt my own fingers not about to move. Even as a werewolf, I'm paralyzed. Not only could I feel his panic, but mine also began to build too. I felt myself collapse one knee on the ground,  I glanced over at the substance on the door, wondering if that could've been the cause.

Through the glass window - we see the Mechanic digging through a tool chest while above him, something moves inside the Jeep. My heartbeat rises. Perched within, a shadowy figure reaches its ink black-skinned and muscular arm through the open window.