Sloane Hale is the only Hale to inherit her father's magical abilities and not her mother's werewolf gene. But, they never made her feel left out. The little girl loved her family deeply, and when she lost them all in the Hale fire, her life is chan...
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BEFORE THE PROLOG:
It is a dark and foggy night as several Beacon County Sheriff's Department deputies pull up to the Beacon Hills Preserve in their police cruisers. At least a dozen officers get out of their vehicles, some with K9 unit dogs who are barking and whimpering amongst the radio chatter. Flashlights in hand, the deputies begin their search in the woods, looking for the other half of a dead body that hikers had found.
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Scott McCall was sitting on his bed in his room, wearing only a pair of gym shorts, as he re-threads the laces on his lacrosse stick. Tomorrow he was going to make first line. Asthma be damned. He was tired of sitting on the bench.
He checked the netting making sure it was perfect.
Once he's determined that the net on his stick is secure and loose enough, he tosses the stick on his bed before walking toward the bathroom door, where he has a bar mounted on the lintel. After doing a series of chin-ups, Scott goes into the bathroom, where he brushes his teeth and washes his face before bed.
As Scott was re-entering his bedroom he hears a noise outside and pauses to listen for danger.
When he continued hearing the noise he grabbed the baseball bat and made his way out to the porch. He took a few steps when all of a sudden his best friend, Stiles Stilinski fell from the terrace, hanging upside by his caught foot looking directly at each other.
"AHH! AHHH! AHHHH!" They both screamed.
Scott huffs in frustration and annoyance before lowering his bat. Really? Stiles couldn't have used the door, like a normal person?
"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!" Scott asked his best friend.
Stiles looks just as exasperated as Scott, and he eyes the bat in his best friend's hands.
"You weren't answering your phone! Why do you have a bat?" Stiles asked his best friend, the McCall's were not baseball people.
"I thought you were a predator!" Scott informed his best friend as if it was obvious.
"A pre... Wha?" Stiles asked, looking at Scott clearly appalled by the implication, before scoffing.
"Look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called-- they're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even state police." Stiles said changing the subject.
"For what?" Scott asked confused.
Stiles has difficulty concealing his glee regarding his answer.
"Two joggers found a body in the woods." Stiles informed his best friend.
Reaching up to pull himself free of the trellis, Stiles lands on his feet in front of Scott, who still looks confused.
