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"The time we spent together—he was more than a teammate. He was a true friend, someone who stood by me during my hardest moments."
Danny's voice trembled, his grief pressing against each syllable like a weight too heavy to bear. His hands gripped the edges of the podium as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
"I know some people saw him as difficult, maybe even arrogant, but I believe he was just misunderstood. He was our captain, our star player… and my best friend."
A sharp breath left his lips, his chest rising and falling as he gathered the strength to continue. The air around us was thick with silence, the kind that made every word feel heavier.
"What happened to him was a tragedy," he finally said, his voice cracking. "And I can only hope his soul rests in peace."
Danny stepped away from the podium, his face streaked with tears. Before he could take another step, Mrs. Whittemore pulled him into a tight embrace, her own silent sobs muffled against his shoulder.
The funeral proceeded in solemn quiet, Jackson's coffin slowly descending into the earth. One by one, we approached, dropping flowers onto the casket, each bloom a final goodbye.
A firm but gentle hand settled on my shoulder. "You okay, kiddo?"
The sheriff's voice was steady, grounding. We stood beneath the shade of a large oak tree, just far enough from the crowd to remain unnoticed.
I hesitated before answering. "I didn't know him that well," I admitted, my gaze fixed on the freshly dug grave. "But the times I did, he felt like a jerk. Still… he didn't deserve this."
My eyes wandered past the rows of tombstones, drawn to a lone figure at the very edge of the cemetery. Kneeling before a grave, the man carefully replaced wilted flowers with fresh ones, his hands lingering over the stone.
"That's Isaac's dad," I murmured. The weight of recent deaths settled heavily in my chest. "Isaac, Jessica, Jackson…"
The sheriff let out a slow sigh. "We're working on it, Stiles."
I nodded, knowing he was doing everything in his power. But I also knew that I had to do my part. He had limits—rules and regulations that kept him in check. I didn't.
The Void, as he called himself, was twisted, brutal, and dangerous. But he was human. The police could handle him. The Alpha, on the other hand…
That was my fight.
If I didn't stop the Alpha first, the body count would only rise.
My gaze shifted to the Argents, dressed in all black, standing solemnly among the mourners. There was no doubt in my mind—they were next on the list.
Then, my eyes found Allison. She stood quietly, her arms wrapped around Lydia, who was trembling with sobs. But something about her was... off. Distant. Almost like she wasn't really there, like her mind was somewhere far away, tangled in thoughts she wasn't ready to share.
Grief clung to her, but it wasn't just sorrow—it was something else. Something heavier. And for the first time, I wasn't sure if it was fear or resolve settling in her eyes.
"I have to go," the sheriff said, his voice laced with reluctant duty.
He was worried about leaving me alone in all of this—I could see it in his eyes. But we both knew he had a responsibility to the town, just as I had my own responsibility.
"Dad," I called, stopping him mid-step. His gaze met mine, concerned but expectant. "I'm doing fine."
A tired but warm smile crossed his face. He nodded. "That's good. I'll see you tonight for dinner."
"Get me pizza."
"You got it."
And with that, he was gone.
Scott pushed his way through the lingering crowd, his expression tight with something between frustration and concern. He stopped in front of me, his gaze searching.
"You could have come," he said quietly.
I shook my head. "I don't do well at funerals."
Scott exhaled but didn't push it. Instead, he cut straight to the point. "Do you have something to go on?"
I started walking, and he fell in step beside me. "His body was found hanging by the cliff. Upside down. Barbed wire wrapped around his ankles, digging deep into the skin." My voice was steady, but the image in my head was anything but. "His blood dripped into the sea, drop by drop. The most brutal murder this town has ever seen."
Scott paled. "Jesus."
"The cops are handling what they can," I continued. "Once we deal with the Alpha, we can help them."
Scott shot me a look. "And how exactly are we dealing with the Alpha?"
I sighed. "Derek is still a dead end."
"Great," he muttered. "So what's plan B?"
I hesitated before saying it. "We try Peter."
Scott scoffed, shaking his head. "Right, because a guy in a coma is going to wake up just to help us hunt down a werewolf." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
"The nurse did say to be patient," I reminded him, though I wasn't sure I even believed it myself. "We need a miracle right now."
Scott let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Screw it. At this point, we've got nothing to lose."
I nodded. "Then let's hope we get lucky."
We climbed into my Jeep, parked not far from the cemetery, the weight of the funeral still hanging over us like a storm cloud.
Tara was already in the back seat, waiting. She didn't look up when we got in, just spoke, her voice steady and certain.
"Peter." It wasn't a question—it was a statement. A conclusion she had already reached.
Scott glanced back at her, brow furrowed. "How?"
Tara shrugged slightly. "Just a feeling."
I tightened my grip on the wheel and nodded.
"Peter." With that, I started the engine and pulled away from the cemetery, the heavy silence between us stretching like an unspoken truth.
None of us knew what to say, or maybe we simply had nothing to say. What could possibly break the grim, suffocating atmosphere surrounding us?
Scott, ever the optimist, decided to try. "I didn't see Amber at the funeral."
I sighed, keeping my eyes on the road. "She hasn't answered any of my calls. Her mom says she's holding up, but… not well."
"She just needs time," Tara murmured from the back. "This kind of thing… it takes time to recover from."
The road ahead was quiet, the streetlights casting long shadows as we drove through Beacon Hills.
By the time we reached Beacon Central, the sun had set, giving way to the cold embrace of night. The air felt heavier somehow, like the city itself was holding its breath.
I didn't know it then, but after this night, nothing would ever be the same.