Hunters, led by the ruthless Monroe, had turned Beacon Hills into a battlefield. With the Anuk-ite still on the loose, Scott and the others were scattered—trying to hold the line and stop the darkness spreading through their town. But inside the hospital, another war was being fought. Liam, Theo, and Mason were doing what they could to hold off Monroe’s growing army. Teenagers with weapons, corrupted by fear, driven by hate.

And not far from the action, hidden behind a closed door near the emergency wing, was you.

A white wolf. Smaller than most, your fur was matted with blood and dirt, your breaths shallow and uneven. Pain wracked your body with every movement, and yet you refused to let the shift overtake you—too vulnerable, too risky.

Then it happened.

A crash outside. A body slamming into the door.

It burst open, and Theo Raeken stumbled inside, groaning as he hit the floor. He was breathing hard, bloodied from the fight, but alert. He froze almost instantly, his eyes locking on the corner of the room.

On you.

He took in the sight—the whimpering, wounded wolf barely holding on. Your pain wasn’t just visible. It filled the air. Heavy. Raw. And it pulled something out of him. Without a word, he slowly rose, his expression shifting from combat-ready to something softer. Cautious.

He knelt down a few feet from you, not wanting to scare you more.

“Hey..." he say softly. strangely softly.