Twenty

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SIERRA SAT IN THE BACK OF THE JEEP, HER EYES GLASSY AND FACE BLANK.

Her mind only swirled in concern for Lydia. They shouldn't have split up.

Now, Lydia laid unconscious in a field, bleeding and alone. Sierra had no way of knowing if Jackson reached her in time. This was supposed to be a night to remember, but all Sierra wanted to do was forget.

Stiles kept his narrowed eyes on the road, occasionally glancing towards the rearview mirror to check on the brokenhearted girl behind him. His heart ached at the sight of her crying. Both teenagers avoided conversing with the psychotic, murdering werewolf who was calmly sat in the passenger seat.

Accidentally, Stiles huffed which Peter for some reason took as a sign to tell them not to feel bad about leaving Lydia behind. "If she lives, she'll become a werewolf."

Peter didn't see a downside to that, to him it's just a new beta for his pack to make him stronger.

"Yeah and once a month she'll try to rip my throat out," Sierra spat and glared daggers into the back of the man's head.

He deserved to rot in hell, not sit there acting human and respond wittily that it'll be twice a month because Lydia was a female. He directed them to where he had his car hidden, in a parking garage.

Stiles put the jeep in park once they got there and Peter told them to get out.

He roughly dragged the boy by his collar directly to the black vehicle, Sierra following them quickly. She had already left Lydia; she wasn't leaving Stiles. She sassily remarked that there was no way this was his car as the alpha fumbled with his keys. "It belonged to my nurse," Peter stated, more than annoyed with the girl.

"Well, where's she?"

He abruptly lifted the trunk and the couple gasped. The red-headed lady from the hospital the other night laid motionless and her dead eyes stared straight forward as Peter reached in to grab a dark green backpack. His gaze flickered from the scared kids to the woman and shrugged. "I got better."

"Good luck getting a signal down here," Stiles stated and rolled his eyes when Peter handed him a cell phone that had MiFi and pulled out a silver laptop.

"You think you're so cool with your fancy gadgets," Sierra commented, now more frustrated and angry than scared. "Do you recommend Macs to your other psychotic werewolf buddies or do you keep it to yourself?"

Ignoring her presence, Peter instructed Stiles to log on and get connected. Stiles lied through his teeth and stated he didn't know Scott's username or password, and that's what he needed to get onto the computer. The adult wasn't stupid and could tell the spastic teen was lying without even hearing his heart jump.

Stiles persisted which caused the werewolf to latch his claws onto Sierra's wrist tightly. She cried out from the sharp pain as he dug them deeper, sending blood trickling down her forearm. Squeezing her eyes shut, her face contorted and twisted as she tried to think of anything other than how much Peter was hurting her. "I can be very persuasive, Stiles," he said firmly to the boy who stared at him in horror.

Seeing Sierra in pain sent his fingers flying across the keys as he typed in many codes to get the laptop connected. Out of nervousness, he started to blab out questions to which Peter responded vaguely. "Look, if I do this, you have to promise to leave Scott out of it," he stated, locking eyes with Sierra as she struggled to pull her arm out of Peter's grasp. "And let her go."

Peter's claws retracted and he sighed before he looked at the two. He asked if they knew why wolves hunted in packs and explained he needed Derek and Scott to hunt down a bigger prey.

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