CHAPTER 19

The lacrosse field had become their usual hangout spot after their daily classes for completely different reasons.

Tristan because he wanted to observe the new beta and also maybe see if he could figure out who was the person keeping an eye on him.

Malia because it was the only place she could relax and maybe enjoy the mildly violent game after going through the hell that was science class, while Allison was because her two friends just like gathering there and it was also a great spot for relaxation and requiring the energy needed to continue the rest of the day. 

While she animatedly engaged in conversation with Malia about the different players and whose play she found interesting, Tristan on the other hand was focused on the not so focused McCall who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. 

… 

On the field… 

Scott and his best friend, Stiles, arrived at the field a little later than usual due to Scott's unusually unmotivated dull look concerning his favorite sport. 

Luckily Stiles had spent the better part of the morning trying to rouse his spirit, both the one to live and the one to play, and so far he's had no monumental success. 

They arrived just in time to hear their Coach Finstock calling out the first warmup takes for the day. 

"Let's go! One-on-one from up top!" He blew his whistle and fired the players up. "Jackson! Take a long stick today. The rest of you, keep moving your malignant asses on the field." Followed by an even fiercer whistle blow. 

Scott winced a bit, not from auditory sensory overload but from how high pitched the whistle was. 

Jackson grabbed the longer stick and positioned himself in front of the goalie as the sole defender while the rest of the players formed a straight line, each taking their turns in trying to get past Jackson and score a goal. 

"Still gloomy? Come on, you gotta look at the bright side of things." Stiles whispered exasperatedly as he stood behind Scott in the line while the others before them got on with the exercise. 

Scott, hearing Stiles' unmistakably and misguided optimism, twisted his neck sideways to give him a look that said 'really?'. 

Whether not understanding the look he was getting or simply deciding to ignore it, he started highlighting his point. "For starters, you no longer suck at lacrosse."

In his own opinionated reasoning, that was probably the biggest boon Scott McCall got from his freaky nature change since the boy was weirdly against being a werewolf. 

"Don't think I didn't notice that the bite injury has disappeared which means you're probably got some sort of super healing." He continued pointing out the pros and undermining the few cons which, different from his motive, only served to increase Scott's depression. "So don't worry, everything is going to work out just fine."

WHISTLE!

"Move your ass, McCall!" Coach Finstock's irritated shout snapped the two out of their hushed conversations. 

"Yeah, go get him Scott!" Stiles cheered and gave him an encouraging push forward. 

Scott struggled not to release a sigh as he could feel how eager Jackson was and the subtle dare in his eyes urging Scott to make his move against him. 

Giving himself a few pumps, he started out with a slow run as he scooped up the ball from the ground before increasing his sprint towards Jackson. 

Jackson, on seeing Scott's charge, broke off into his own sprint to meet him halfway and with an expert dip of height, he braced Scott's momentum and overpowered it before pushing back and throwing Scott to the ground, his face etching in a triumphant smirk. 

A few people winced, including Stiles whose face was uncertain, while others mostly laughed at his brutal takedown. 

"You sure you still want to be firstline, McCall?" The lacrosse Captain taunted. 

Seemingly out of it only to be brought back by Jackson's taunt, Scott didn't notice as he tried standing up when his coach had made his way towards him. 

"My-my grandmother can move faster than that - - and she's dead!" He paused to let the words sink in first. "You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?"

Scott's teeth clenched at the obvious mockery in his Coach's words which further stoked the frustration and anger he has been feeling since the previous night. "Yes, Coach."

Not knowing and obviously not caring about Scott's 'special' condition which was currently causing Stiles to pale in worry and realization, Coach further goaded him with mockery. 

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, Coach." Due to the swell of negative emotions currently rampaging through him, Scott's bestial transformation started taking over with his eyes turning gold. 

"Then do it again."

Scott picked himself until the ground and jogged back to his previous starting line while his Coach's imminent mockery loudly sounded in his ears, further ending him on. 

"McCall's gonna do it again, McCall's gonna do it again~" 

Jackson returned back to his previous location and prepared to foil Scott's second attempt to completely exert his superiority while Scott finally regained a sense of clarity as the changes in his eyes receded, though for how long no one knew. 

"Let's go." Coach blew his whistle for the go ahead which immediately kicked Scott into a full sprint. 

Feeling irked by the determined eyes at which Scott came at him, Jackson too pushed on, his mind already seeing the expected outcome which was a repeat of his previous failure - alas reality was often disappointing. 

Scott rammed into Jackson with an intensity that flung him over his shoulders with an extra twist midair, hitting his shoulder and collarbone at the same time which already predicted Jackson's outcome.

The entire field exclaimed in worry as they saw how Jackson landed roughly on the ground and his pained grunt which caused them to run towards him in concern. 

Scott on the other hand fell to his knees as the violent urges started influencing his senses prompting a shift even as he furtively tried to keep calm and failing at it. 

Ignoring the crowd's concern for Jackson, Stiles, concerned for his friend, rushed towards him hoping he was fine after the hard collision only to be faced with something else. 

"I can't control it, Stiles! It's happening!" Stiles jerked back in alarm and questioned for clarification hoping he, against all odds, had heard wrong. 

"Well, fuck it! Come on, come on!" Placing Scott's hand over his shoulders, he pulled the triggered werewolf up and limped them both back to the locker rooms where they could be out of sight in case he ended up fully shifting and bringing down the furies. 

… 

Back at the stands, the game caught the trio's attention, Tristan more than the other two as he wondered what the hell Stilinski thought he was going to do with McCall. 

Malia leaned in and whispered into his ears as Allison was currently distracted by the foul play. "I caught a smell. Definitely a werewolf." She pointed towards another part of the field where a man with clean cut beards wearing a black jacket and jean pants stood, his focus on the direction Scott and Stiles went. 

"At this point, it's no longer our problem."

"Why?"

"The only reason why I even bothered keeping an eye out was for this reason. Since someone's keeping an eye out on him means he's less likely to go on a killing spree. Probably why there was no report of a mauled victim yesterday." Tristan said before packing his things and preparing to leave. 

"You guys are leaving?" Allison asked as she saw Tristan's movements. 

"I'm leaving." Tristan left the both of them with those words and entered the school building having closed out whatever caution he had about the McCall boy. 

Regardless of the reason, Omegas were a cause for concern as in certain supernatural circles, they were called the 'Cursed Ones'. It was a general stigmatism that was the supernatural equivalent of racism and irrespective of their moral bearings, stereotypes were something that was very hard to fight against, especially in a dangerous world like theirs. 

Having the assurance that he had someone looking out for him means that his actions reflected a higher power. Even animals of the wild had a hierarchy of order and those who went against it were hunted down without pity. 

What no one knew, not even Malia, was that from the moment Scott McCall was identified as a beta, he was on a timer. 

There was no way he would let a stray, had he been one, into the den he and Malia had inhabited. 

Had anyone been looking at Tristan at this moment, they would have been frightened for their life as his normal brown eyes glowed blue, giving him a beastly appearance, not as wild as Scott's but just as dangerous. 

Three things cannot long be hidden. The sun, the moon, and the truth. 

It was not just a mantra, but also a way of life and a grim reminder that under their deceptively human façade, an iota of their true nature never changed. The only thing stopping them from reveling in their nature was not the fear of Hunters, but a moral switch. 

And for someone like him who always had to keep it under, it was fully natural that his moral switch had a few misplaced screws. 

Yes, he was part of a werewolf pack. Yes, he imprinted on Malia, or rather Malia had the biggest impression on his life. Yes, he answered and obeyed his Alpha, but that in no way changed what he was. 

While wolves relished the thrill of the hunt, he only gained the minimum modicum of satisfaction when his prey was dead. 

"This is bothersome."

The air around him changed and he reverted back to his normal look as if everything that had happened moments ago was a lie. They were called shapeshifters for a reason. 

His next class had McCall in it while Malia and Allison had different classes. He only had a few classes with Malia and even fewer with Allison and he liked it just that way. He wasn't blind to the fact that Malia's dependence on him was what prevented her from wanting to know people. While he was absolutely okay with it, he'd rather have her spread her wings a little and try doing a few girl things with other females in school which was why he had tolerated Allison's presence as much as he did. 

He pushed open the door to his next class – biology. It was not a subject he was very fond of. 

… 

[Malia Tate POV] 

'I really do hate math.'

Malia was currently in a class filled with students like her and each was currently seriously going through the materials in front of them while at the same time listening to the teacher's incomprehensible ramblings. 

'If only Allison was here, at least I wouldn't be that bored. And not to mention that stupid skank is also here.' Malia idly thought while throwing a glance at Lydia's seat at the first row of the class, said girl also flipping through her books with a relaxed expression. 

"Ms. Tate, since you have nothing else to do, how about solving a few questions for us?"

The teacher who had been observing the girl for a while now, called for her since it was obvious she wasn't paying attention. 

"No, thanks. I think I'll pass." Malia replied genuinely but that response seemed to throw the students and teacher into a loop. 

The teacher on his part was confused and embarrassed on how he should tell the girl that his question was only for polite reasons and he wanted her to really solve some problems on the board. "Oh, I see. At least you understand." 

He nodded and turned to focus on any student zoning out and not doing the exercise he gave them. 

"Oh.. I don't think I understand anything you wrote." And for the second time that day, Malia silenced the entire class. 

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