The school halls were crowded with students, their voices blending into a loud, chaotic hum as the final bell signaled the end of the day. Backpacks zipped, lockers slammed, and groups split off in every direction.
But down one quiet hallway, in an empty classroom far from the noise, a small group sat huddled together—faces tense, voices low. The events of the previous night still hung heavy in the air.
"Scott, where the hell were you last night?" Stiles demanded, grabbing Scott by the shoulder and giving him a shake. "I called, I texted—you didn't answer any of it!"
Stiles kept going, clearly not done. "I literally had to go to Iván's house," he said, jabbing a finger in Iván's direction. "And his mom—his mom—was talking about grabbing a gun like it was just another Tuesday! There was another dead body, Scott. Where were you when I needed backup?"
"Sorry, Stiles," Scott said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder with a sheepish grin. "I was kinda… in the middle of making out with my girlfriend."
And there it was.
The moment the words left his mouth, Iván instantly wanted to smack himself.
"Teenagers and their hormones," he muttered—then paused.
Wait.
I am a teenager.
He glanced down at himself, mildly horrified.
But never—not once—had he experienced any of the weird hormone-fueled nonsense people always warned about.
Then his eyes widened.
He glared down at his necklace, almost certain it was laughing at him. Somehow, deep down, he knew it was the reason he hadn't experienced any of those weird teenage urges. He glanced lower, then shrugged.
"Well… at least I can still think straight," he muttered, side-eyeing Scott. "Unlike a loverboy over there, living in la-la land."
"Great," Rowan said, crossing his arms with a hard look. His usual friendly demeanor had vanished. "You're out here worried about whatever's going on in your pants while we've got an Alpha on the loose—and you're supposed to help?" he scoffed.
Ouch, Iván thought, wincing a little at Rowan's words. But his mind was still stuck on everything that had happened the night before.
His mom was—well, used to be—from a hunter family. Which, honestly, made her way cooler than he'd ever realized. But he still didn't get the chance to ask her about his father.
He sighed. Guess that'll have to wait… for now, at least.
Still, it looked like they'd be getting some extra help—from her.
"Sorry I'm late," Charlotte said as she entered the room. Her light brown skin glowed under the dim light, and her curly hair bounced with each step. Her amber eyes narrowed as she sniffed the air.
"Ugh, it smells like a bunch of men in here." She grabbed a bottle of perfume, sprayed it around, then nodded in satisfaction. "Much better."
She took a breath and continued, "I'm here to update you all—based on Stiles' reports and the pictures he gave me—it was definitely a werewolf attack."
"I knew it!" Stiles shouted, pointing like he'd just solved a murder. "I freaking knew it! You all thought I was crazy—but look who's right again!"
Iván narrowed his eyes. This guy and his outbursts… He closed his eyes for a moment. No one had really doubted Stiles—not completely. It was mostly Scott.
Still, having someone with access to the police database at their fingertips? That was a huge help.
"Charlotte, do you have the ingredients I asked for?" Rowan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yep. Here you go." She tossed a small bottle filled with herbs toward him.
Rowan caught it effortlessly. "Thanks," he said, tilting his head and giving her a quick wink.
"Just… don't get yourself killed, okay?" she replied, her voice laced with concern. She paused at the doorway, casting one last glance back at him before walking out.
"What's that for?" Iván asked, eyeing the bottle with curiosity.
"It's for a tracking spell," Rowan explained, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Takes a bit of time to get right, but if we pull it off… we'll know exactly where our little wolf is hiding during the day."
He paused, his expression hardening.
"And then we kill it—and send it straight back to whatever hell it crawled out of."
"So, this is it, huh?" Scott said, taking a breath. "Well, I'm ready—whatever we have to do."
"Maybe we should use the school to lure it in at night," Iván suggested. "Best to keep it out of the public eye."
Rowan paced back and forth, deep in thought. "That's smart," he said slowly. "But I think we need to address the elephant in the room."
He stopped and turned, his eyes locking on Iván as he slowly stepped forward—his gaze falling to the pendant hanging around Iván's neck.
Iván folded his arms, his mind racing. Right—yesterday night, I wasn't in control and told Rowan about it. Ever since, he's been acting… weird around me. I don't like it.
" My dad told me, I should do a little demonic test on it," Rowan said, reaching toward the moon pendant. But the moment his fingers brushed it, the pendant reacted power flaring wildly.
It sensed the deadly intent buried deep inside Rowan and exploded with a violent blast of energy.
Rowan was thrown back, crashing through the window in shards of glass. Scott, Stiles, and Iván stared, frozen, eyes wide with shock at what had just unfolded.
The classroom door burst open.
It was Mr. Carr.
"What the hell is going on here? Detention! All of you!" he shouted, his voice sharp with disappointment.
Meanwhile, Rowan was still swaying, dazed, practically seeing cartoon birds circling his head.
"And you too, Rowan!" Mr. Carr snapped, glaring at him.
And just like that, the four boys ended up in detention.
Mr. Carr sat at his desk, quietly grading papers, while the boys sat scattered across the room, sneaking glances at each other.
They passed scribbled notes back and forth:
"What the hell happened back there?"
But, of course, not a single one of them had a clue.
Iván was the most speechless of them all. It was his family heirloom, after all—and even if he asked his mother, he doubted she'd know anything about what just happened. Just a gut feeling.
One thing was clear: after detention, he needed to start doing some serious research.
So, like the good boys they were, they all sat in silence, waiting.
Eyes on the clock.
Feet tapping the floor, one after the other.
Growing more impatient by the minute.
And then, detention finally ended.
They all bolted—tripping over each other in their rush to escape. It was pure chaos at the door, a tangle of limbs and backpacks.
Eventually, they made it outside to the school grounds, breathless and scattered.
Iván sat down on the front steps, his expression distant—lost in thought.
"What the hell was that?!" Stiles shouted. "It was like something out of a movie!"
"Whatever it was, that was freaking cool," Scott said, still wide-eyed.
"Getting blasted out a window was not cool," Rowan muttered, folding his arms.
Iván closed his eyes, letting their voices fade into the background. It was clear now—Rowan didn't know, and Derek didn't seem to know much either.
I guess it's up to me to uncover the truth.
He stood up, brushing the dust from his jeans, then turned toward the others.
But first, he thought, we deal with the Alpha.
"Guys!" Iván called out. "Forget the necklace for now—I don't think it's anything demonic anyway. What we need to focus on is the Alpha."
The others exchanged glances, then nodded in agreement.
They all piled into Stiles' Jeep and took off. While the engine rumbled, Iván sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone, googling anything related to his moon pendant.
And then—he froze.
There it was: a clear image of the exact same pendant, etched into the wall of an ancient Greek temple. Same design. Same symbol.
His fingers stopped moving.
It can't be that old… Can it?