Chapter 26: The Plan
The war room is Derek's loft.
Maps. Weapons. Mountain ash in jars. First aid supplies.
Lydia stands at the center like a general commanding troops.
"Roles," she announces. "Scott and Derek—direct combat. You engage Peter if he attacks. Derek, you're lead. Scott, you follow his signals."
Derek nods. Scott looks nervous but determined.
"Stiles and Jackson—perimeter control. You maintain the mountain ash barrier. If it breaks, you reinforce it. No exceptions."
"Got it," Stiles says.
Jackson just nods.
"Allison—ranged support. You have the best aim. Wolfsbane arrows for emergencies only. Don't engage directly."
"Understood."
Lydia turns to me. "Adam. You're our early warning system. Use your Haki to track Peter and Kate. Call out positions. And..." She pauses. "You're also our emergency tank."
"What?"
"You heal. If someone's about to take a fatal hit, you intercept."
Scott stands. "That's asking him to get hurt on purpose."
"That's asking him to use his abilities strategically," Lydia counters. "He's the only one who can survive an Alpha strike and recover."
"She's right," I say.
"Adam—"
"I heal, Scott. That's the point."
Derek crosses his arms. "We use every advantage we have. This is war. Not a game."
"I hate this plan," Stiles mutters.
"You'll hate dying more," Lydia says flatly.
Training.
Scott and Derek spar in the loft. Derek doesn't hold back. Scott gets thrown into walls. Furniture breaks.
But Scott's getting better. Faster. Reading Derek's movements.
I practice Nen projection. Pushing my range. Twenty feet. Twenty-five.
Barriers that last ten seconds instead of seven.
It's exhausting. My hands shake. Nosebleed starts.
But I keep going.
Stiles and Lydia map escape routes. Plan contingencies. What if Peter breaks through the mountain ash? What if Kate brings more hunters? What if Chris turns on us?
Every scenario has a backup plan. Then a backup for the backup.
Jackson watches. Takes notes. Trying to contribute.
Allison texts updates. She has the mountain ash. Her father knows the plan. He'll provide interference against Kate if necessary.
He's not on our side, Allison writes. But he's not on hers anymore either.
It's something.
Evening. Last night before the confrontation.
We sit together. Pizza. Soda. Pretending this is normal.
"If we survive," Stiles says, "I'm demanding therapy. And pizza. Lots of pizza."
"You're eating pizza right now," Lydia points out.
"Preparatory pizza. Different thing."
Scott laughs. "I can't believe we're doing this."
"We don't have a choice," Derek says.
"We always have a choice," I say. "We're choosing to fight."
"Why?"
"Because the alternative is letting Peter and Kate destroy everything. And we're not doing that."
Silence.
Jackson speaks. "I don't understand how you're all so calm."
"We're not," Scott says. "We're terrified."
"Then why—"
"Because someone has to do it. And we're the ones here."
My phone buzzes. Coach again.
Coach: Come home.
I stand. "I should—"
"Go," Derek says. "Get rest. Tomorrow's going to be hell."
Home.
Rebecca sits at the kitchen table. Coffee cup in front of her. Untouched.
I sit across from her.
"Your father," she says. "Before he died. He told me something was watching him. Following him. I thought it was stress. Paranoia from his job."
"What was his job?"
"He wouldn't tell me. Said it was safer if I didn't know." She looks at me. "But whatever he was involved in, it killed him. And now it's touching you."
"I'm handling it."
"Are you?"
"I'm trying."
She reaches across the table. Takes my hand. "Whatever happens tomorrow, know that I love you. And I'm proud of you. Even if I don't understand what you're doing."
My throat tightens. "Thanks, Mom."
"Come home alive."
"I will."
Coach appears. Hands me the bat. "Don't forget this."
"I won't."
"And don't die."
"You keep saying that."
"Because you keep doing dangerous things."
"Fair."
He puts a hand on my shoulder. "We're proud of you, kid. Biological father or not. You're ours."
Bed. Can't sleep.
Tomorrow: Peter. Kate. Fire. Death.
My meta-knowledge whispers fragments. Kate dies. Peter dies. But how? The specifics are fog.
I text the group. Whatever happens, we stick together.
Responses flood in.
Scott: Always.
Stiles: And if we survive, therapy and pizza.
Derek: We survive. That's the plan.
Lydia: Statistically, we have a 67% chance of survival. I'll take those odds.
Jackson: I don't know what I'm doing but I'm in.
Allison: See you tomorrow.
My phone buzzes one more time. Derek.
Derek: Thank you. For helping me protect my family's memory.
I respond. We're pack. That's what we do.
First time he's called us that.
Pack.
It feels right.
I sleep. Finally. Dreamless.
Tomorrow, we end this.
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