I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
Patréon/emperordragon
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Beacon Hills Animal Clinic.
The clinic was steeped in a heavy, almost sterile quiet, the kind of silence that felt deliberate. The only sound that broke it was the low, steady hum of Deaton's equipnt—machines running sowhere in the back room, a faint vibration against the tile floor. The faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air, sharp enough to sting the nose, mingling with the earthy sll of herbs stacked neatly in glass jars along the walls.
Derek sat propped up on the treatnt table, his back resting against the cold tal fra. The color had returned to his face since last night; he was no longer that pale, sweat-slick version of himself. His shirt was tugged back on, though the way his fingers moved—slower than usual, deliberate—gave him away. He was better, yes, but still not quite back to normal.
Laura stood a few feet away near the counter, her posture stiff, arms folded across her chest as if she were holding herself together. Her gaze wasn't really on anything in the room—she stared through the rows of vials and instrunts as though the counter itself was a thousand miles away. She'd only just ended a call with Malia, the words still ringing in her head, fast and frantic, too much to process at once.
"A figure," she said at last, breaking the silence. Her voice was low but steady, a thread pulled taut. "Soone out there turning people into… weapons. Hunters, now Isaac. Whoever this is, they're escalating."
Derek let out a sharp exhale, the sound almost a snarl. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Great. As if the Argents breathing down our necks wasn't enough." His tone was edged with sarcasm, biting, but his eyes betrayed sothing else—unease, maybe even fear he didn't want to na.
Laura turned to him, her jaw tightening, her expression sharpening as if she were forcing herself to stay calm. "This isn't just about the Argents anymore," she said. "If this person can manipulate anyone, they can drive wedges everywhere—inside our family, between us and allies, between the hunters themselves."
Behind the counter, Deaton had been quiet until then, sorting through vials with his usual precision, glass clinking softly against glass. He didn't look up when he finally spoke, his voice asured but tinged with sothing dark. "Anger is one of the easiest levers to pull in a human mind. But to twist it that completely…" He paused, shaking his head as though the thought unsettled him. "This isn't ordinary influence. It's targeted. Sharpened. Like a scalpel."
Derek leaned forward slightly. "So what are we dealing with? A warlock? So new kind of corrupted monster no one's ever catalogued?"
Deaton finally looked at him, his eyes steady but unreadable. "I can't answer that yet," he admitted. "But if this person continues, you won't just have hunters at your door—you'll have friends turning on each other."
The words landed like a weight, and for a mont, no one spoke. The hum of the equipnt grew louder in the silence, or maybe it just felt that way.
Laura was the one to break it, her voice hard now but controlled. "We need to get ahead of this," she said. "Whoever it is—they're not hiding in the shadows anymore. They're making moves. And if we don't stop them soon, we'll be too busy fighting each other to fight them."
Derek t her eyes and gave a grim nod, the faintest hint of shared resolve in his expression. "Then we should start with Edward Wallace and the other hunter. If that person used them once, they might be the key to finding more information."
Laura t his eyes. For once, brother and sister were on the sa page.
Deaton only muttered, almost to himself, as he set a vial back into its place with a soft click: "But the real danger may not be who this figure is… it's how many more they can bend before you get to them."
The words hung in the sterile clinic air like a warning bell.
anwhile, on the other side of town...
Lucas steered the car down the winding road, headlights cutting clean paths through the dusk. But the entire ti, part of him was elsewhere. Rembering the figure watching them from just beyond the treeline. What he did to Isaac.
His phone buzzed against the console breaking Lucas out of his thoughts. He picked it up and saw Erica flashing across the screen.
He answered, voice relaxed. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," Erica replied, her tone light but a touch hesitant, like she was testing the waters. They traded a few lines of harmless small talk—school gossip, and latest antics. Then her voice shifted.
"So, um… you finished the history paper yet?"
Lucas blinked, one hand tightening on the wheel. "…Paper?"
"The one due tomorrow. Revolutionary War—ten pages?" Erica laughed softly, though it ca out a little nervous. "Don't tell you forgot."
Lucas groaned. "Yeah… I forgot. Completely."
"Well, lucky for you, I didn't." Her tone picked up—playful, but there was a warmth underneath. "Why don't you co over? I'll help you get it done before you completely tank your grade."
Lucas chuckled. "You'd do that? Thanks, Erica. You're a lifesaver."
There was a tiny pause on her end, just long enough to betray the smile forming on her face. "Yeah, well… don't get used to it. You owe a al for this."
Lucas, oblivious to the shift in her tone, replied easily, "Deal. Lunch on , next ti."
Erica's voice softened without her aning to. "Good. It's a date then." But she quickly added, "I an—not like a date-date… just, you know, whatever."
"Right," Lucas said, completely missing the hesitation, his focus on traffic. "I'll be there in fifteen."
"See you soon."
The call clicked off, leaving Erica staring at her screen, biting her lip, cheeks warm.
Lucas anwhile turned the car around, completely unaware of her growing crush, his mind already shifting to how fast he could hamr out a history paper with her help.
The night air thickened around the car as he steered toward Erica's house.
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