#packspyau

Cameron groaned shooting another rager in the head, a cigarette between his lips. Can they stop already? Can he just seriously enjoy being on his own damned private rooftop for once? He’d manage to get a lot of his supplies up here, found a nice shed to make his new home. Grabbed a good amount of food and water to store away until he was sure the Rage would settle. He’d disabled his phone, made it hard for Malia to track. He was done with her, done with the Wolves. He was just done. He’d sent a text to Will telling him where he was and if he really cared to come and stay with him in safety. The fact that he wasn’t there hurt but he figured that was how it was going to be.

The drugs kept him quiet and pliant unless they were torturing him, they liked to hear him scream. Most of the time, Scott wasn’t sure what was real anymore as they tried to pry open his mind for secrets. He did his best to resist, there was too much at stake if he talked and too many people who’d die at the Hunter’s hands. The Wolves might think he was a traitor, but he’d die before he actually betrayed them. It took days before he had enough strength to pull the iv out of his hand, letting the drugs soak into the sheets as he slowly fought his way out of the fog.

The Hunter who checked his vitals was just unlucky. Scott exploded into motion, jamming the IV needle into the other man’s neck and wrestling the side arm from his holster. A quick shot to the forehead and he was down for good. Scott slid out of bed, wobbling as the world tilted like a ship in a storm beneath his feet. He had to assume there were cameras everywhere, he only had a few minutes before the alarms would send everyone after him. Move, Scott, move! 

Peter was still alive out there somewhere, he had to be. The trick was to find him, get someone who could bring him out of his coma, and have him convince the rest of the Wolves that Scott wasn’t a traitor. He just needed a place to start. Easy.

kiss-this-sourwolf

Scott had thought he’d already lost everything. The world had been shattered, his life had ended and he’d been cast out. Having the ground crumble beneath his feet for the second time in a week left him disoriented. Nothing made sense anymore, how could he have missed the signs? He’d been so eager to love and be loved that he must have been the perfect target. The Hunters were probably celebrating their victory and Stiles was probably laughing.

Stiles. He didn’t even know the other man’s name. Everything he thought was real, all the feelings and the safety, everything was a lie. He’d run to the one person pulling the strings from the very beginning like a lamb to the slaughter.

Scott woke slowly, confusion making his limbs heavy as he tried to piece together his surroundings. He was still in Stiles’s apartment? He didn’t remember falling asleep this time, the last memory was curling in next to his best friend and then... The haze in his head was unnatural, he shouldn’t be this disoriented unless he’d been drugged, it took too much effort to clear his thoughts. No, that didn’t make any sense. Stiles wouldn’t have sedated him. Strike that, of course Stiles would have tried to sedate him if he thought Scott was going to leave without healing, but Scott should have been able to detect the drug.

He cracked open one eye, blurred movement by the end of the bed catching his attention and Scott’s lips curved in the barest smile. Stiles was getting dressed and it was nice to watch him unguarded. There was muscle beneath that pale skin, lean and broad shouldered all at once. Scott knew how they felt under his fingertips and the way they tensed as he trailed wet kisses across them. Everything else might have fallen apart, but he was still so lucky.