Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soap. He smelled like soap.

Liam’s nostrils flared, the scent pressing sharp and unmistakable into his senses. It clung stubbornly inside his nose—clean, crisp, and sterile, like the smell of hospital soap, but harsher.

“Not just his soap,” Stiles hissed urgently, his voice low and tense. “His emotional state—chemosignals. Remember?”

Liam’s eyes flicked over the shadowed trees, trying to stay focused as his mind juggled the flood of new information. Being a fresh werewolf didn’t come with an instruction manual, every sensation felt turned up to a deafening volume. The cold of the night air bit against his skin, the rough scrape of branches whispered warnings and his heart pounded in his chest like a drumbeat of danger.

“He’s... sad,” Liam muttered, almost under his breath. The word felt too small to hold what he was really sensing. His chest tightened painfully, the feeling seeping into his bones. “No, it’s more than sad. It’s... Grief.”

Stiles froze, a muscle twitching in his jaw as if he was swallowing down a lump of dread. Slowly, his head turned toward Liam with wide and haunted eyes. “Oh god,” he breathed. “We have to go. Now.”

Before Liam could answer, Stiles yanked the hem of his hoodie, pulling him with quick, frantic steps away from the clearing. Leaves and dirt kicked up behind them as they hurried through the dark woods, shadows swallowing the narrow path. Only when the dense trees fell away and the moonlight spilled over empty grass did Stiles finally let go. He buried his face in his hands, his voice raw with guilt and pain. “That’s the bridge,” he said quietly. “Where they found his sister.”

Liam blinked, confusion wrinkling his brow. “His sister?”

He’d never known much about Theo. Only the rumours, shadowed truths, and the occasional warning. Lone wolf, troublemaker, dark past. Nothing personal and nothing real.

“The one who got lost,” Stiles explained, his voice barely above a whisper. “She died from exposure. He was leaving a flower for her.”

Liam glanced back toward the woods, the scent of grief still haunting the air, sharp and bittersweet. “That doesn’t sound evil,” he said softly, uncertainty threading his words. “Maybe he really means it. Maybe he really doesn’t have a pack. That could be why he wants to join Scott’s.”

Suddenly, a sharp snap shattered the moment, a twig breaking somewhere above. Liam froze, instincts snapping into overdrive. Without thinking, he shoved Stiles behind him, muscles coiling to protect. High in the tree canopy, a figure balanced like a silent predator, poised with unnerving grace. Theo. His silhouette was sharp against the moonlight, effortless and dangerous like a jungle cat stalking it’s prey. Then, with a smooth, fluid motion, he leapt down.

His converse kissed the earth so lightly that Liam barely heard it. Theo stepped forward, casual but confident. Liam’s growl rose like a warning, the hair on his arms bristling. He moved closer until Stiles’s firm hand stopped him mid-step. “Whoa.” Theo’s crooked smirk gleamed in the dim light. “Why do I get the feeling this kid’s tougher than he looks?”

“Because I am,” Liam shot back, eyes blazing. “I’m not a kid. Talk to me, not about me.”

Theo’s eyebrows lifted in amusement at the challenge. “Easy there. Just curious—what are you two doing out here?” Liam’s jaw tightened as he exchanged a glance with Stiles, who crossed his arms as if he was putting up a shield around himself. Except, this shield wasn’t like magic, it was a defense mechanism. 

“What were you doing?” Stiles demanded, his tone sharp. Liam groaned inwardly, familiar with that stubborn edge. “What?” Stiles added. “Fine. I don’t trust you. So, I made him follow you.”

Liam wished for the ground to swallow him whole. But Theo chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “I don’t recall falling into any holes,” Theo teased, eyes sparkling with mischief, nodding at Liam’s dirt-streaked jeans.

“I wasn’t looking where I was going, asshole,” Liam grumbled, brushing off his pants as his phone buzzed again. Another message from Mason.

Stiles stepped forward, voice even sharper. “Why were you on the bridge?”

Theo’s shoulders lifted in a tired shrug. “Leaving a flower for my sister,” he said simply. “Like you guessed.” He hesitated, then added with a sly grin, “Also... I use dove soap.”

Liam’s cheeks burned bright red. “Shut up,” he muttered, pushing past Theo. “Come on.”

He grabbed Stiles’s sleeve and tugged him toward the Jeep, glancing briefly at the duct tape desperately holding the engine together and then at Scott leaning nearby, arms crossed over his leather jacket, expression unreadable. “Fuck,” Stiles muttered, wiping his face. He recognized that look, equal parts amusement, disappointment, and warning.

“Find anything?” Scott asked, voice calm.

“Nope,” Stiles snapped.

“I fell in a hole,” Liam said with a grin, trying to cut the tension. Scott chuckled, patting Liam’s back. But the mood darkened again as Scott’s gaze drifted back to the woods.

“It was the bridge,” he said, voice low. “Where his sister died.” Stiles groaned, kicking the tire in frustration. The Jeep sputtered and died, the engine coughing like it had given up. “Wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Very embarrassing. I’d like to leave now,” Stiles grumbled, hopping out and yanking the hood open. “Liam, start it when I say.”

Scott hesitated, voice softer now. “Stiles—”

“What?” Stiles snapped, breath ragged. “Yeah, okay! We followed him. I’m a stalker, paranoid, completely out of my mind. Congrats, Scott. You’re right.”

Scott exhaled slowly. “Can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

“I do give people the benefit of the doubt!” Stiles barked, flinging his hands up. “I practically hand it out like Halloween candy–Liam again."

The Jeep grumbled, sputtered, and died. Scott watched patiently. “Maybe there’s something good in Theo.”

“Why do you trust everyone!” Stiles yelled, fist pounding the Jeep’s bonet. The sharp pain made him yelp and yank his hand back, clutching it.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, stepping forward.

“I’m fine,” Stiles muttered, turning away, his pain bleeding through in his tense shoulders.

Liam felt it too—hurt, fear, anger, grief—all of it radiating off Stiles like heat. Then— “You guys okay?” Theo’s voice was quiet but impossible to ignore. Liam exited the jeep and stepped forward, growling low.

“We’re fine. Go away.”

Theo ignored the warning, eyes landing on Stiles’s hand. “I heard a bang. Is it okay?” He asked, referring to the jeep. 

“You can leave,” Liam said again, teeth clenched.

Scott held Liam back. “Easy.”

“I’m not here to fight,” Theo said, hands raised in peace. “I want to be in your pack. Hurting any of you? Not exactly part of my plan.”

“Stop talking,” Liam muttered, shooting a look at Stiles still clutching his hand. Theo stepped toward the Jeep, pulling out jumper cables from his truck.

“I can help,” he said, eyes on the mess of wires and tape.

Stiles groaned, head dropping. “Fine,” he muttered.

Theo shone his phone’s light on the engine. “That’s a lot of duct tape.”

“You think?” Stiles snapped.

“Starter motor’s toast,” Theo said, smirking. “But I can get you going.”

Scott offered Liam a ride to avoid worrying his parents, but Liam shook his head. “I’ve got to go to school,” he said. “I was supposed to meet Mason. He’s gonna kill me.” Theo pulled up in his truck moments later. “Big truck."

“My dad’s,” Theo replied, connecting the jumper cables to both vehicles.

“Try it,” he said to Stiles. The Jeep roared to life. “See? I can be helpful.”

“Mason’s losing it. Can we go now?” Liam asked, eyes wide and hopeful. “Bye, Stiles,” he added, climbing onto Scott’s bike. Theo waved as they sped away.

“Thanks, Scott,” Liam said, nearly tripping as he jumped off the bike.

Scott caught him with a steady hand. “Just tell him the truth. Mason’s a good friend. He’ll understand.” Liam nodded, but the knot of fear twisted tighter in his gut. 

“Hey!” Liam called out, spotting Mason across the hallway. “Sorry I’m late!”

“You didn’t show,” Mason replied flatly. “I worked out. Alone. For almost two hours.”

Liam winced. “Yeah, and I’m sorry. But I... need to tell you something. A lot of things, actually.”

Mason’s eyes widened, voice dropping. “There’s a wolf.”

“Yeah, I’m getting to that–” He paused, seeing Mason’s frightened expression. Liam turned slowly, only to see a large black wolf stepping out of the shadows, golden eyes glowing in the dim hallway. Liam’s breath caught. “That’s a wolf.”

They bolted. Mason reached the stairs first. Liam hesitated, turning to face the beast. His claws slid out and his fangs bared. He roared, voice raw and primal, echoing down the corridor. The wolf stopped, then bowed and slowly turned away. Liam exhaled deeply and looked back at Mason. “There’s something I gotta tell you…”

Mason stared with eyes wide. “You’re a werewolf.”

Liam nodded. “Yeah.”

Mason stepped closer. “I have so many questions.”

Liam sighed. “You and me both.”

Chapter Text

“So, you actually told Mason?” Stiles asked, his arms crossing tightly over his chest as he fixed Liam with a sharp, skeptical look. One perfectly arched brow rose slowly, signalling that hesitant judgment he always wielded like a weapon, when things didn’t quite add up for him, he was ready to strike. His body language tried to maintain a casual, almost nonchalant stance, but the tension in his shoulders was impossible to hide, it was as if every muscle was wound tight and ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

Liam shifted his weight awkwardly, standing a few feet away and twisting his fingers nervously. The weight of Stiles’s expectant gaze felt like an invisible pressure pushing down on him, making him suddenly feel small and unsure. “You said I should,” Liam replied, his voice quiet and hesitant, eyes flickering upward to meet Stiles’s unwavering glare, which was at once intimidating and unyielding—as if Stiles had switched into full ‘mum mode’ and wasn’t about to let this go anytime soon. “Besides, I didn’t really have much of a choice, considering you skipped over the part where this massive black wolf started chasing us right through the school hallways.”

A long groan escaped Stiles’s lips as he dragged a hand through his messy hair, causing the dark strands to fall back in a chaotic, wild tumble that mirrored the storm of thoughts brewing in his head. “Okay,” he muttered, his voice dropping a few tones lower as he tried to process the situation, “but seriously, was it a real wolf? Like, a wolf in the traditional sense or a werewolf?” That last word fell heavy in the air, laced with gravity and caution.

Liam furrowed his brow, frustration etching across his features. “How the hell am I supposed to know?” he asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I didn’t actually see it shift or anything like that, and honestly? Half the time even Scott can’t tell the difference between the two.” His words were clipped, the helplessness clear in his tone.

Stiles muttered something under his breath, something sounding suspiciously like of course not, before releasing a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling with a sudden, tense exhale. “Alright,” he said, voice low and serious. “Either way, we have to figure this out. Something bad is coming, I can feel it deep down, like a storm brewing in my bones, twisting and clawing its way up my spine ready to tear everything apart.”

Liam took a cautious step closer, concern flickering across his young face as his gaze softened. “We’ll figure it out, okay? You don’t have to carry this alone,” he said earnestly, meaning every word. He knew how Stiles’s anxiety worked and after all they’d been through, it was impossible not to understand why Stiles felt so overwhelmed.

Mason’s quiet voice interrupted the moment, soft but clear. “The wolf was black,” he said carefully, his eyes distant as if replaying the scene in his mind, lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not.”

A thick silence settled over the three of them, heavy with unspoken questions and uneasy thoughts. If only Mason knew the truth.

If only any of them truly understood what was barreling toward them. Not Scott, Stiles, no one. Not even Liam, not fully. Only one person knew, Theo Raeken. 

The infiltration into the McCall pack had been frighteningly easy, almost embarrassingly so. They never saw it coming.

Liam carried a secret no one suspected—his chimera blood, twisted and altered by the horrors of the Dread Doctors’ experiments, gave him the ability to mask his scent, slipping through supernatural senses as though he was a ghost. Even Scott, with his heightened werewolf senses, couldn’t pick him up.

Stiles had joked once that Liam was like a “were-cheetah”, fast, elusive, impossible to catch. Truth is, he hadn’t been far off.

But that was before Scott bit him. Now, Liam was no longer just a failed experiment. He was Scott’s beta. That distinction made him far more dangerous than anyone imagined, only the beta chosen and bitten by Scott could ever hope to challenge him, to take away his powers.

Liam had survived the impossible. He was no longer underestimated and he was perfectly placed.

The sunlight filtered harshly through the school windows, striking Liam’s eyes and forcing him to squint. Mason’s gaze lingered on him, filled with quiet curiosity and a hint of concern. 

“You okay?” Mason’s voice was gentle and genuine. Liam nodded but said nothing. The sudden blare of the school bell shattered the fragile calm, setting off a flood of students rushing through the hallway like startled birds, their footsteps pounding a chaotic rhythm on the linoleum floor. “You sure?” Mason pressed again, his brows furrowed.

But Liam had already turned, weaving carefully through the crowd. One class down. He couldn’t bear to sit through another, he slipped into a quieter hallway and made a sharp turn toward the supply closet. His heart thudded in his chest as he glanced nervously over his shoulder before slipping inside and locking the door behind him, sealing off the noise and the world outside.

“Theo?” he called softly, voice barely above a whisper as he stepped deeper into the cramped, dimly lit space.

“I can hear your heartbeat, idiot,” came the familiar voice, teasing but warm, as a figure melted out of the shadows.

Theo emerged, his eyes glittering with that mixture of amusement and something more complex—something deeper and rawer. His hands found Liam’s waist, firm and sure, grounding him.

“Did they believe you?” Theo asked lowly, voice laced with humor.

“Scott did,” Liam said flatly, voice tight. “Stiles? Not so much. But he’s ... stubborn.”

Theo scoffed, a growl rumbling low in his throat. “Tell me about it.”

“Tracey’s going to be a problem,” Liam said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You mean a failure,” Theo corrected coldly, the word sharp and cruel, like a blade.

The word failure hit Liam like a punch. He hated how much it still hurt. Failure.

Douglas’s voice buzzed in his mind, cold and mechanical. He could still feel the searing pain in his back as the memory flared. No sedation. No kindness. Just cold steel, ruthless syringes, and that green liquid that burned like acid through his veins. The green liquid—the same eerie substance the mysterious man had swum in. Liam remembered dying. Over and over.

Being declared dead, only to be shocked back to life, the green serum flooding his body like some unholy fuel. They had taken him when he was just a child. Six years old. One moment, he was playing in the yard with Mason, then the next—screams, cold hands, cold steel. The Dread Doctors hadn’t even meant to take him. It was a mistake.

He wasn’t even compatible, he didn’t have dual DNA, But that didn’t stop them from trying, they pushed his body beyond every possible limit. When it broke, they started over. He was a test subject.

A number, a tool. Kept locked in a bunker only to be starved, mutilated and reanimated. Pain became his language, silence his only identity. Yet, he survived. 

“Babe.” Theo’s voice was softer now, grounding, his green eyes searching Liam’s face with quiet, unwavering concern. “You good?” His hands brushed Liam’s waist again, gentle, protective.

Liam gave a weak nod. “Just... memories.”

Theo understood. More than anyone ever could. They shared a bond deeper than words—beyond pain, beyond blood.

They had survived the same hell. But even now, the ghosts whispered. “The Dread Doctors won’t stop,” Theo said, reading Liam’s mind like an open book.

Liam nodded slowly. “We have to find Tracy before they do.”

“They’re going to try and save her,” Theo murmured, already plotting the next move in his head. “Try to be the heroes as always.”

“We need her for our pack,” Liam said quietly, voice steady and firm as steel. “We can’t let them kill her.” There was a silent pause between them. A shared, unspoken agreement that passed between them like a binding contract. “I’ll stall the McCall pack.”

Theo nodded. “I’ll find Tracy.”

Neither needed to say the rest. Everything had to go exactly according to plan.

Chapter Text

“Scott, wait—” Liam called out urgently, his breath hitching slightly as he quickened his pace to catch up with his Alpha. The hallway stretched before them, dim and eerily quiet now that the final bell had rung, leaving only their footsteps echoing faintly in the vast emptiness. Shadows clung to the corners, pooling thick and heavy like spilled ink, pressing against the peeling paint and scuffed lockers as if the tension in the air had solidified into something almost tangible, like static crackling before a storm.

“Let me come with you,” Liam insisted, his voice steady but threaded with urgency. “I can help. We can find her together, protect her from whatever’s hunting her.” He carefully chose his words, threading concern with a hint of determination, just enough to pierce Scott’s protective instincts. The Alpha slowed, hesitating for a breath that stretched too long, then finally gave a nod, his face shadowed with worry.

“Alright,” Scott murmured softly, voice low and rough with fatigue and something else, hope maybe. They moved side by side in silence, the faint squeak of their shoes on the cold linoleum barely breaking the stillness.

Liam’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the stale air, senses sharpening instinctively. Something lurked beneath the mundane scent of aged school halls and waxed floors. A sharp, metallic tang curling in his nose, sour and chemical. It set his skin crawling with unease.

“Do you smell that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the corridor. “Mercury. It’s poisonous.” The words slipped out like a warning, heavy and cold.

Scott inhaled deeply, jaw tightening as the unpleasant scent clawed at his senses. “That’s awful,” he said quietly.

Liam’s gaze flickered, lips tightening. “That’s probably Tracy,” he guessed, voice low. “We can track it. It’s fresh. Whoever’s here, they just passed through.”

Scott nodded, the determination hardening his expression. He still believed Tracy could be saved, that she could be pulled back from whatever darkness had taken hold. Liam’s stomach twisted painfully at the hope in Scott’s eyes, bitter knowing twisting with the knot of dread deep in his gut.

This wasn’t just a rescue mission anymore. It was a race, a desperate scramble to find her before the Dread Doctors could strike again. Before they could snatch her away from them, like they’d tried so many times before. Tracy was part of their plan now, their future pack, handpicked by Liam and Theo, and Liam refused to let her slip through their fingers.

Meanwhile, Theo’s role was clear and dangerous—he was the bait. The distraction. The only one who could face the Dread Doctors on their twisted ground, buy time, and hold the line. Liam knew Theo was the only one with the guts and maybe the madness to face them. They didn’t listen to Liam anymore; he was the failure in their eyes, a broken experiment.

But Theo? Not yet.

“That smell,” Scott murmured again, voice tense, “it’s getting stronger.”

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic click echoed down the hallway.  “Agh!” Scott dropped like a stone, his body collapsing with a harsh grunt as he clutched at his side, eyes wide with shock and pain.

“Scott!” Liam spun around, heart hammering, eyes wide with horror as his Alpha crumpled onto the cold tile floor, his body frozen and trembling. Sweat beaded on Scott’s forehead, hands twitching faintly, fingers curling helplessly. “No...” Liam breathed, dread crashing over him like a tidal wave.

He recognized that paralysis, that venomous sting deep beneath the skin. The telltale mark of the Kanima.

“Tracy?” Liam whispered, voice barely audible.

Scott struggled to speak, voice rasping and weak. “Liam, go. Save her.”

Liam’s heart was wrenched, torn between loyalty and opportunity. This was the moment he could seize Scott’s power, the moment he could become alpha, end the mission here and now. But a deep part of him recoiled. Scott had taken him in, made him family. No matter how tangled their past was, that mattered.

“Are you sure?” Liam asked softly, already catching sight of a quick shadow moving down the hall.

“There she is,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

The figure darted ahead—Tracy, moving with wild desperation, eyes wide and feral, limbs tense and ready to strike. She growled, a low, guttural sound filled with panic and raw fear. “I will kill you!”

The truth slammed into Liam at that moment, she didn’t know. Maybe she’d been trapped in a nightmare, asleep and dreaming. Her sleep disorder twists reality into something violent and terrifying.

“Tracy, this is real,” Liam called out, hands raised in a plea, voice soft but firm. “You’re awake now. Everything you’re doing, this isn’t a dream. You could hurt someone if you don’t stop.”

Her eyes darted wildly, flicking past Liam behind him. “No!” she screamed, voice cracking with desperation. “You can’t have me!”

Her tail lashed out in a swift and brutal swipe, Liam barely dodged the venomous strike and then wham— A heavy force slammed into his back with the unmistakable crackle of static energy.

The Doctors. 

“They’re here,” Liam shouted, struggling to get up, but his body was flung across the hallway with brutal force. His back collided violently with a metal shelf, sending it crashing to the floor in a cacophony of clattering debris. “Leave her alone!” he snarled, golden eyes flashing fiercely in the dim light.

Emerging from the shadows, the twisted trio appeared: Douglas, Marti, and Caitlyn. Their presence was like a nightmare made flesh, ghosts from Liam’s darkest memories. Douglas stood rigid, his mechanical limbs whirring softly. “Failure,” his cold voice intoned, emotionless and final.

Marti stepped forward, expression blank and ruthless, syringe gleaming ominously in his hand. Behind them, Caitlyn lingered, silent and watchful. Her face masked, her posture wary but less harsh than the others. Liam’s mind flickered back to a memory he rarely allowed himself to revisit.

He remembered the cold, sterile lab bunker, dark and suffocating. The endless pain, the endless tests. The times he curled into himself, sobbing, his small body broken and burned from the inside out. Then footsteps, soft and tentative.

He flinched, bracing for more needles and torment. But instead, a gentle tap on his knee. He peeked through trembling fingers. It was Caitlyn. She didn’t speak. She just crouched and placed a small, tattered blanket at his feet with no words, no threats, just that fragile kindness.

Then she turned and walked away, leaving Liam alone with the silence. He never told anyone about that moment.

“Stop! Don’t hurt her!” Liam screamed, scrambling desperately to push the heavy shelf off his trembling body. Marti didn’t hesitate. He lifted his leg and delivered a crushing blow to Liam’s ribs. Liam gasped, a sharp, ragged breath, before roaring as adrenaline surged, muscles coiling like steel springs. He shoved the debris aside and pushed to his feet, fists clenched, eyes burning with defiance.

“Stop!” he bellowed.

But the Doctors moved as one, unrelenting and mechanical. Liam froze, heart pounding so loud it echoed in his ears. The narrow hallway closed in, suffocating. “Failure,” Douglas hissed again, voice cold and final, then turned back to Tracy. The syringe plunged into her neck.

“No—” Liam lunged forward, desperation fueling his every move.

“Her condition was terminal,” Marti said, voice flat and clinical, as if that justified the cruelty. They all turned toward Liam, closing in like vultures.

His back pressed against the cold wall, body trembling with a mix of fear and rage. Douglas led the assault, unyielding and remorseless. Marti followed mindlessly, his hands steady, syringe ready. Douglas enjoyed the control. The power. The absolute authority over life and death.

And Marti? He controlled the thick, glowing green liquid, the chemical elixir that had repeatedly dragged Liam from death’s door, forcing him back to a broken existence. Now it dawned on Liam. This liquid could be the key to saving others, Tracy and Josh. Their pack and their future.

He had to get this message to Theo, if he survived.

“Failure,” Marti said again, voice dripping with venom. Liam clenched his jaw, fighting back tears he refused to let fall. He was no failure—not after all he’d endured. He was still standing, still breathing and still fighting.

“He’s not a failure,” a fierce voice growled.

Relief surged through Liam as he turned to see Theo standing tall at the far end of the hallway, expression cold and unyielding.

“We had a deal, Douglas.” Theo said smoothly, voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “The new chimeras belong to me.”

Theo’s calm masked the storm beneath the fear. Douglas said nothing, but with brutal finality, he slapped Liam across the face. The sharp crack echoed through the hallway like a gunshot.

Liam staggered back, vision blurring. Theo snarled and lunged, but Marti easily flicked him aside like a rag doll.

“Failures,” the Doctors said in cold unison, then vanished as suddenly as they’d appeared, like ghosts dissolving into the shadows.

Theo rushed to Liam’s side, hands gentle as he helped him up. “Scott’s down there,” Liam muttered, voice hoarse. “You should go, I’ll tell Scott what happened. I’ll see you later.”

What Liam really wanted was to collapse into Theo’s arms and let the fear, shame, and pain fall away in that safe space. Theo knew without being told. He brushed a tender hand along Liam’s jaw, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you after,” he whispered firmly. “Trust me.”

Then, without another word, Theo was gone, vanishing down the hall like a shadow himself.

Chapter Text

“This isn’t going to work,” Liam muttered under his breath, his voice low and heavy with doubt as he ran a trembling hand through his unruly, sweat-damp brown hair. The nervous energy that had been clawing at his chest all day finally broke through as his pacing slowed and he turned slowly to face Theo, eyes clouded with uncertainty and fear, swirling with the weight of everything they had endured and the impossible choice looming ahead.

Theo’s sharp gaze locked onto Liam’s every movement, reading the cracks in his armor that had been growing for weeks, but now seemed like a tidal wave crashing down. The chimera’s expression softened, though his eyes remained steady, calculating.

“Baby wolf,” Theo said quietly, his voice calm and steady like an anchor, as he rose from the edge of the cluttered desk where he’d been lounging, his long limbs stretching before crossing the room in a few fluid steps. With deliberate gentleness, he reached out and cupped Liam’s face, his fingers firm yet tender, grounding him in the moment and refusing to let him spiral further into the dark abyss of doubt.

“It’s going to work,” Theo promised, voice low and unwavering. “But we have to stay focused, Liam. You’re letting them get inside your head again. Those lies, that guilt. They're poisonous. We don’t have time for that.”

Liam scoffed bitterly, pulling back from Theo’s touch like a cornered animal, frustration bubbling under the surface, raw and unfiltered. He turned away, folding his arms tight across his chest as if to hold himself together, but his voice betrayed the tremor of pain beneath his defiance.

“It’s easy for you to say,” he muttered, voice rough, barely audible. “You don’t have to betray the person who saved you. You don’t have to hurt someone who means something.”

Theo’s brow twitched, a flicker of irritation crossing his usually impassive face, but there was something sharper underneath, something closer to pain. “Scott bit you, yeah. But he had to. You’re his beta, that means he’s responsible for you. If he’d left you to die, he’d be no better than Peter or Derek.”

Liam flinched at the truth in Theo’s words, the sting of it hitting deeper than he wanted to admit. But the other part of him, the part still chained by loyalty, by instinct, by memories of kindness, refused to accept it. His voice cracked as he looked back at Theo, eyes shimmering with tears he tried desperately to hide.

“I don’t think I can kill him,” he whispered, voice breaking completely, tears spilling freely down his cheeks.

Theo stepped closer, his concern softening the hardness in his eyes, voice lowering to a gentle murmur. “What’s going on, Liam? Talk to me.”

Liam’s breath caught in his chest, shuddering under the weight of every memory. “I’m… I’m broken, Theo,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper, “Everything I’ve been through, everything we’ve gone through and now we’re here, planning to destroy the one thing that we’ve both always wanted. A pack…. A family.” His voice cracked and finally broke, tears cascading down his face like a storm breaking loose.

Theo listened quietly, absorbing every word like a lifeline, though to him none of it changed the course they had to follow. He didn’t see the McCall pack the same way Liam did, they weren’t his family. They were a means to an end. His only loyalty was to Liam and their survival.

“If I go through with this… and I fail?” Liam shook his head, voice thick with despair. “I’ll be nothing. A failure… forever.”

“You won’t fail,” Theo said firmly, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around Liam, pulling him close in a protective embrace. He rocked him gently, soothing him like one might calm a trembling pup. Liam melted against the warmth, his wolf desperate for any kind of comfort, the grounding presence of someone who understood all the shadows inside him.

That brought back too many memories. Memories of a sterile room, a world of pain and silence, and cold cruelty.

Rough, unforgiving hands grabbed Liam by the inner arm and roughly hauled him across the cold concrete floor before hurling him into the small, gray cell that had been his prison. He hit the floor hard, the breath knocked from his lungs, a burning pain blossoming down his side like wildfire.

He whimpered softly, biting back the tears. He refused to cry anymore. Not now.

Not until he saw him.

A boy, maybe a year or two older was curled in the farthest corner of the cell, knees pulled tightly against his chest, trembling with exhaustion and fear. His wide green eyes lifted slowly, blinking sleep and terror away.

“Are you okay?” the boy asked cautiously, voice soft and human—so different from the cold, clipped tones of the doctors and scientists who’d tormented them.

Liam stared at him silently. It had been weeks since he’d seen another kid. Every time a new roommate appeared, they vanished shortly after. They always disappeared.

“I’m fine,” Liam said, voice hoarse, dragging himself over to the thin, torn blanket that barely covered the cold floor.

“You’re bleeding a lot,” the boy observed.

“Obviously,” Liam snapped, defensive as ever. But he noticed the faintest trace of a smile from the boy, hesitant but kind.

“What’s your name?”

“William,” Liam answered quickly before hesitating. “But… you can call me Liam.”

“I’m Theodore,” the boy replied softly, a shy smile breaking through his fear. “But you can call me Theo.”

A heavy silence settled between them—tense, uncertain, but slowly warming with cautious curiosity. Then Liam started blurting out questions, the words rushing past like a dam breaking.

“When did you get here? How old are you? Did they hurt you yet?”

Theo blinked, surprised but unoffended. “I think I got here yesterday? It’s hard to tell. There’s no windows or anything. I’m nine. You?”

“Seven. I think.”

Theo looked around the bleak cell. “They said my sister wants me to have her heart. I’ve got a heart condition. They said they could fix it if I came with them.” He paused, voice dropping. “That… was probably a lie, wasn’t it?”

Liam looked down at the dried blood crusting his knuckles. “Yeah.”

“They’re not fixing us,” Theo whispered. “They’re trying to make us into something else.”

Theo fell silent, he didn’t cry. But Liam could hear it, the hitch in his breath, the way he held himself tighter. “There were others here before us,” Liam said quietly. “But they’re gone now.”

Theo turned slowly, voice low. “Gone?”

“They said they were… failures.” Liam’s voice dropped to a fragile whisper. “They said they hoped I wouldn’t be next.”

Theo swallowed hard, face pale. “You’re not a failure.” His conviction startled Liam. “I’m not going anywhere. So you’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Liam whispered.

“I promise,” Theo said, holding out his pinkie.

Liam hesitated, staring like it might snap. Then, with a faint smile, he hooked his pinkie with Theo’s.

“Guess we’re best friends now.”

“Yeah,” Theo smiled. “I guess we are.”

Theo kissed the side of Liam’s head softly, fingers resting protectively over Liam’s heart, steadying the wild beat beneath. “I love you,” Liam whispered into the hollow of Theo’s neck.

“I love you too,” Theo replied, tightening his hold as the sun’s first pale rays began to peek over the horizon, just nights away from the supermoon that would change everything. Then maybe, just maybe, the future wouldn’t be as dark as the past they carried with them. But deep down, they both knew that was a lie.