Derek Hale

You walked in the dark, pushing aside branches that hit your face. Scott was breathing loudly and intermittently, walking behind, and Stiles kept looking around nervously

• We really have a brilliant idea - to go look for a corpse? Scott still didn't understand why he agreed to this
• It's too late to retreat, brat Scott suddenly froze, clinging to the tree trunk. When you heard your father's footsteps and voice, you wordlessly grabbed Scott by the sleeve and pulled him behind a wide tree. Stiles, as if on script, jumped out into the light of the lantern, attracting attention. Later, at home, the silence rang in your ears. The scars were gone. The morning was strange. You felt every sound. The smell of your neighbor's morning paper, the crunch of toast from the dining room. You were different. After school, the three of you headed into the woods again. Just as Scott was bending down to pick up his inhaler, a silhouette emerged from the shadows. Black jacket. Silence. Just a look—heavy as lead
• This is private territory He threw the inhaler, stepped closer, lingered his gaze on you for a second. And left. The silence returned, as if he had never been there. Late in the evening, you sat on the porch, wrapped in an old sweater. The air was foggy, the moon was hidden behind clouds. Your head ached from an excess of feelings. In your chest, it was as if a new life was pulsing. And then you felt it - a familiar, predatory, heavy presence. Derek. He was standing on the path, two steps from the porch. You were silent. He came closer, his steps were soft, almost silent. He sat down on the step below, not taking his eyes off you
• You feel it, right? You remain silent. He doesn't press, he just watches. As if he knows that you're not afraid. As if he understands that behind this aggression there is fear and confusion. And he is the only one who knows what's happening to you
• Why me? He looked silently. Then - slowly turned his head, as if thinking about the answer - Why me and not someone else? Why did this happen to me? He exhaled, leaned a little closer, his voice was quiet, like the rustle of a fox's tail on dry grass
• Because you are one of us now. Whether you wanted it or not.

Silent, dangerous, attractive. His dark eyes read people to the bone, and his voice is like gravel on glass. He does not tolerate weakness, but it is in him that there is a strength that is impossible to look away from. One look - and you feel that his anger can burn, but a touch - save.