Teen Wolf: Second Howl Chapter 66 66 Weight

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Lucas's Perspective

The sky stretched endlessly above Beacon Hills, shrouded in a dense, unbroken blanket of gray clouds. That kind of sky had a way of muting the world, muffling the sharper edges of sound and motion, making everything seem softer, or perhaps more distant. It was as if the entire town had taken a breath and was holding it, waiting for sothing that might never co. I felt strangely grateful for the overcast gloom – the weather matched the complicated, unsettled ss of my thoughts far better than sunshine ever could.

I left the hospital and walked aimlessly for a few blocks.

Eventually, after what felt like hours but was probably only a handful of minutes, I stumbled across a little café sandwiched between a cheerful florist and a bookstore that looked like it hadn't updated its window displays since the last decade. The café was small and old-fashioned, exactly the kind of place most people overlooked in favor of bigger, flashier options. That was what I needed: Quaint. Empty. Perfect.

I stepped in, letting the warmth and sll of espresso pull back from the chaos of the supernatural world and consequences. The waitress gave a polite smile—tired but kind—and I ordered a black coffee and enough snacks to look like I was either starving or emotionally unstable.

Probably both.

With my tray in hand, I found a booth tucked in the farthest corner, pressed up against a window. I slid into the seat and let myself sink into the worn cushions, grateful for the solitude. The world outside seed perfectly ordinary – shops, an old man walking his dog, a mother hurrying her child along the sidewalk. People walked by without glancing in, their faces full of normalcy—laughter, errands, routines.

I took out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found her na.

Emily.

She picked up before the first ring finished. "Lucas," she said, voice warm and familiar, like a blanket you forgot you missed.

"How are you settling back into your cabin?" I asked.

She chuckled softly. "The plants missed . And I missed them and the garden. It was fun being out in the world for a while, but… this is where I belong."

I smiled. "Emily, what you call a garden, normal people call a forest."

She snorted. "Jealousy doesn't suit you."

That earned a chuckle from , short but genuine. Then I stared down at my untouched coffee, and the weight I'd been ignoring finally spoke up inside my chest.

"I don't know what I'm doing here, Emily."

There was a pause on her end. "What happened?"

I stared out the window, watching a dog bark at a passing car.

"I turned soone. He is just a kid. He was dying, and I didn't think—I just acted. I told him he's part of my pack now but… I don't even know what that ans. I've never had a pack."

There was a pause. A long, thoughtful silence that stretched comfortably between us. The kind of silence that didn't need to be filled, because it ant she was listening. Really listening.

"You always had a pack, Lucas," she said gently. ". Richard. We've always been your pack."

I didn't respond.

"And I know you. If you thought that was the right thing to do, then I trust your judgnt completely."

I swallowed hard, the warmth in her words cutting deeper than anything cold ever could.

"You will do right by that kid," she continued. "You already did. You saved his life. The rest… the rest you figure out like everyone else. One step at a ti."

I leaned back against the cushion, the tension in my shoulders easing just enough to notice how tight they'd been.

"I hope you're right," I muttered.

"I know I'm right," she said with that sa old certainty that always felt like ho. "But promise sothing."

"Na it."

"Take care of yourself, too. The world's not just your responsibility to carry. Okay?"

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Okay."

The call ended with a quiet click, and I stayed there, phone in hand, just staring at the screen. I finally set it down and reached for my coffee. It had cooled a little, but it was still good. Bitter. Grounding.

I looked at the plate of snacks and, for the first ti in what felt like hours, I picked one up and took a bite.

The road ahead was tangled, uncertain, and full of choices I wasn't sure I'd be ready for.

But for now, I was here.

Breathing. Eating. Living.

And sotis, that had to be enough.