You had heard plenty from your friends about how taking a short cut through the woods was dangerous, not convenient. As a girl who had to walk home from school, you didn't listen. It was a lot quicker than going around.
So when you fell and broke your ankle, you spent more time thinking of a way to explain it to your friends than screaming for help. And you had a lot of time to think, as you left your phone at school.
You were beginning to think you would have to spend the night in the woods when the snapping of a stick alerted you to someone's presence.
"Are you okay?" They ran up to you. It was a boy about your age, with dark brown hair and light brown skin. He looked familiar, but you couldn't understand why.
"I hurt my ankle," you said shyly.
"Does it hurt?" He asked.
"No," you told him, even though you were in obvious pain.
"Put your arms around my neck," he commanded. You were a little hesitant to let a cute stranger carry you through the woods, but something inside you screamed to comply. You wrapped your arms his neck, and he lifted to off the ground.
"Where do you go to school?" He asked, walking. You were a little surprised because of the irrelevance his question had to the situation, but glad that he kept a conversation going.
"Beacon Hills High," you told him.
"Me too," he said. "I thought you looked familiar."
You looked up at his face to see that his eyes were balanced between the ground and what was right in front of him. You weren't sure where to direct your eyes. The appeal of continuing to look at his face was strong, but you willed yourself to look away to avoid the possibility of him catching you staring.
"I'm Scott by the way," he said.
"I'm [Y/N]."
"You just look so familiar," he said.
"School, right?"
"Maybe."
"So," you changed the subject to a more pressing matter. "Where are we going?"
"The hospital's just through here," he said.
"Oh," you said nervously. "I'm not really a hospital person. I'll be fine if you just take me home."
"Your ankle is probably broken," he laughed. "And it's okay. My mom works there."
You let him have his way and clung tighter to his neck.
"I just know that I've seen you before," Scott said. "I feel like I know you."
"School," you told him again. You weren't arguing with him. You felt an abnormal gravitational pull towards him too.
It scared you that you felt this way. It scared you that the further he carried you, the tighter you could feel yourself molding into his chest. You had been warned about this type of feeling.
"My ankle is feeling a lot better," you told him. You felt better a long while ago, but hadn't wanted to leave his arms until now. "I can walk."
"It was just broken," he said and kept walking.
"Seriously," you said, anxious to get out of his arms. "Put me down."
Scott let your feet back on the ground and stared at your ankle. "It healed," he said.
"No," you tried to say. "No, I-"
"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. I'm like you."
Scott closed his eyes. You were shocked when he opened them again, glowing red.
"You're an Alpha," you said in awe.
You flashed your yellow eyes back at him.
"Omega?"
"Yeah."
"I knew I knew you," Scott said. "Deaton told me about this."
"About what?" You asked.
"Mates," he said.
Scott touched the back of your neck lightly, sending chills down your spine. "I feel it," you whispered.
Scott moved so close to you that your bodies nearly touched, and took your hand.
"Come on," he said.
"Where are we going?" You asked.
"You have to meet the rest of our pack."
