The glow of a computer screen lit Asher's room in pale blue. Outside, the world was silent—everyone else asleep. But not him.
While Scott and Stiles had gone chasing shadows in the woods, Asher had chosen a different path. Something about the whole Derek Hale situation didn't sit right with him. Scott and Stiles were convinced Derek was hiding something—the murder of the girl. But Asher's gut screamed otherwise.
His fingers flew across the keyboard. Hale family. Beacon Hills. House fire.
Most of what popped up was already common knowledge. The fire. The tragedy that had gutted one of the town's oldest families. Local newspapers, a few archived articles—it was all surface-level. Anything deeper was locked away, hidden behind walls of authority. Sheriff's office walls. Maybe even the FBI.
Asher leaned back in his chair, "Guess it's time to dust off the old trick…"
He cracked his knuckles and bent forward, eyes narrowing at the screen. The room filled with the rapid clicking of keys, a rhythm that carried him through the night. Hours blurred together. Lines of code, error messages, login prompts—all barriers waiting to be cracked.
Finally—three hours later, as the first hint of dawn crept into the sky—the Sheriff Department's database blinked open before him. He exhaled in relief.
"Gotcha."
He immediately searched: Hale fire. Survivors.
Three names appeared.
Derek Hale. Laura Hale. Peter Hale.
His eyes narrowed, scanning the files.
Peter Hale—coma patient. Paralyzed. Half his face burned.
Laura and Derek—vanished for six years after the fire, no contact, no sightings… until Derek returned to Beacon Hills just days ago.
Asher's eyes widened. He muttered under his breath, "Wait…"
He scrolled back. Double-checked.
"Derek came back… a couple days before the girl's body was found."
The timeline lined up. Too neatly. Suspiciously so.
Asher sat back, running a hand down his face. Logic said it pointed to Derek. The timing, the secrecy, the sudden reappearance—it was too much to ignore.
But still…
His gut twisted.
"No…" he whispered to himself. "He's not it. I don't know why, but… he's not."
Asher's finger hovered over the mouse, his eyes scanning the database for anything else worth checking.
And then...
He noticed it—an intriguing folder.
Recent Sightings.
His instincts jolted, loud and urgent. Open it.
He clicked.
Photo after photo flickered across the screen—grainy surveillance shots, witness sketches, blurry captures from traffic cameras. Most were useless. Wrong dates. Wrong people.
But then—
Asher's breath caught. His pupils widened.
There she was.
Laura Hale. Alive. Walking through Beacon Hills. Timestamp: the exact same day the girl's body had been discovered in the woods.
Asher leaned closer to the screen, his heart hammering. "No way…"
...
The charred remains of the Hale house loomed like a skeleton against the sky, its broken beams jutting out like blackened bones. A sheriff's cruiser idled in front, its lights off, but its presence heavy.
Near the wreckage, Sheriff Noah Stilinski was standing with his arms crossed, his voice raised just slightly as he scolded his son. Stiles looked like a kid caught sneaking out past curfew, throwing his hands around in animated defense.
By a nearby tree, Scott stood with his back pressed against the bark, sighing at Stiles' dramatics.
Asher approached, the crunch of his footsteps on the gravel making Scott glance up.
"What?" Asher asked immediately, scanning the cruiser with unease. "What did you guys do?" His voice carried worry.
Scott gave a crooked grin. "We found the body."
Asher froze. Then his head shook, once, twice—faster and faster. "No, no, no, no…"
"What?" Scott asked, his grin fading, concern taking over.
"Derek didn't do it," Asher blurted, his tone steady despite the rapid pounding of his heart. "That girl…" He hesitated, then locked eyes with Scott. "That girl was his sister. Laura Hale."
Scott's eyes went wide.
But Asher didn't wait for his reaction—he was already moving toward Stiles and the Sheriff.
"Wait, Asher—" Scott reached for him, but Asher didn't slow.
"Hey, Asher," Sheriff Stilinski greeted, caught off guard by his sudden arrival. "How are you—"
"Sorry, Sheriff," Asher cut in firmly, his voice lacking its usual shyness. "But I think you've taken the wrong person. Derek is innocent."
"Asher, what are—" Stiles started, but his dad's voice cut through.
"Asher, do you have any proof of what you're saying?" the Sheriff asked calmly, his eyes sharp, assessing.
"Yeah. The girl that was found dead… is his sister. Laura Hale."
Stiles' mouth dropped. What?!
"And how do you know that?" Noah pressed.
"I…" Asher swallowed hard, his palms damp. He couldn't admit the truth. Not here.
"How do you even know he has a sister?" Noah's tone carried weight, already suspicious.
Stiles' gaze darted between them. There was something in the way they talked to each other—like they knew each other really, really well.
"Asher," Noah said flatly, "don't tell me you went into our database again."
Asher lowered his eyes. "…Yeah. But—"
"No buts." The Sheriff's voice hardened.
"In the recent sightings," Asher pushed on anyway, "a woman matching Laura Hale was registered walking through Beacon Hills the same day the body was found. That can't be a coincidence—"
"Asher." Noah's voice cut like steel. "I already saw that photo. And I already told you—you cannot keep hacking into my system. The picture's too dark. There's no way to confirm it was Laura."
"But I felt it," Asher insisted, his chest tight. "It was her—"
Noah's hand landed firmly on his shoulder.
"Asher." His voice softened now, the steel giving way to concern. "I know you want to work in law enforcement someday. I know you want to do good. But right now, you need to take care of yourself. I can see how much better you look since the summer. Your cheeks even look fuller. I'm glad."
Asher's hand curled into a fist at his side, a flash of emotion crossing his face.
Stiles blinked, baffled. Cheeks fuller? he thought. Wait, wasn't he fat last year? How does that make sense?
Noah sighed, giving Asher a faint, worried smile. "I'll let this slide one more time. But if you break into my system again, I'll have no choice but to arrest you. Don't put me in that position, son."
Asher said nothing. He simply turned and started walking away, his jaw tight.
"Hey, Asher, wait—" Stiles called, already moving after him, but his father's hand caught the hood of his jacket.
"Stiles."
"Huh?" He turned, half annoyed.
"Are you friends with Asher?" Noah asked, his eyes unusually serious.
"Uh… yeah? Why?"
"Then take care of him."
Stiles stared, confused. "…Alright."
Noah let him go, and Stiles jogged to catch up with Asher, his mind buzzing with questions he didn't know how to ask.
To be continued...
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How was this chapter? Liked it?
Sorry for not having uploaded this past three days, I was on a holiday to Rome. It was really a lovely city.
Anyway, I thought it was time to expand Asher's backstory. In the next chapters, it will be even more and more explored, I hope you will like it, it took me quite a bit to come up with it.