The Chosen 🐺

Chapter Eight: The Heal

Stiles started his jeep back up and we were off, Scott had told us to go to his work as no one would there at this time. As we arrived we pulled into a free car parking space. Stiles quickly got out, and went over to the passenger side to help Derek out. As Derek got out, I pushed the seat forward so I could climb out of the jeep.

We all made our way over to a closed door, Stiles bent down and held the handle and threw his hand up, making the door go with, until it hit the top and stopped. As we entered Stiles's phone went off, as he turned on the light, as Derek walked in, before slamming down on a pile of dog food, as he leant back on the wall. His face pale, sweat dripping from his forehead, he had dark bags under his eyes.

"Does Nordic blue monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles asked as he turned to face Derek, as he held his phone out.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet," Derek replied as he gripped his arm.

"Why?" I asked, but I already knew why, I just wanted to play dumb.

"Because I'm gonna die without it," he states, as he looked between Stiles and I.

"Yeah, that's bad," I remarked, as I looked at Stiles then a Derek who looked worse in the seconds I spoke. "Okay, we need to take him inside and hope Scott will arrive on time," I usher to Stiles, as Derek slowly stood from his position, and we made our way inside the clinic.

On our way through the clinic, Derek started to take his top off. I pushed open the double door and we entered Stiles flipping the light switch. As Derek moved in further, and took his top off fully. I couldn't help but to stare at him in awe, his body was like a temple. But I quickly regained my focus, as we moved to the metal operating table that sat in the middle of the room.

"You know that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of," Stile states as a joke trying to ease the tension, but it didn't work. Derek's forearm looked worse as the bullet wound had black veins spreading from the entry of the bullet, blood trickling down his arm also.

"If the infection reaches his heart. It's game over," I state, as I stood next to Stiles, and reached my hand out to touch Derek's hand, to examine the wound. "And by the looks of it, we don't have long left," I could feel Derek's eyes on me, as I held his hand in mine, but there was no time to flirt. He quickly reclined his hand, and took a few steps away turning from us, looking for something.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles looks at me, but I have him a shrug of the shoulders before he looked back at Derek.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time...last resort..." Derek pulls a cupboard open to look, but then to a draw below.

"Which is?" Stiles asked, as we both waited for an answer from him. But he turns around with a hand held saw in his hand.

"You're going to cut off my arm," he states, directly looking at Stiles. I was slightly offended, I could totally rip off his arm without a hand held saw. Stiles looks at me and I look at him with a weird look, just as Derek places the saw on the table then pushes to Stiles.

Stiles makes the mistake of pushing the button on it's handle, and it roars to life, scaring the hell out of Stiles. "Oh, my God! What if you bleed to death?" He asked quickly, as Derek ties his upper arm with something he found, just after the black veins.

"It'll heal if it works," he states as he holds the piece of ribbon in his mouth as he makes a tight knot with it for his arm.

"Ugh! Look, I don't know if I can do this," Stiles replied looking kinda pale himself now. I don't think he could handle blood.