Theo Reiken

Derek's loft was deathly silent, broken only by your heavy, wheezing breath. You were reclining in an old chair, pressing your hand to your wounded shoulder—the Hunters had used wolfsbane, and your veins were burning. Stiles paced the room nervously, Lydia was trying to find a way to remove the poison in books, and Scott was squeezing your hand, trying to take away some of the pain, but it was barely working.

"We can't leave her here," Liam growled, his eyes glowing dangerously yellow. "They'll track us by the scent of her blood!"

"So what are you suggesting, Liam? Throw her out into the street?" Malia snapped, baring her claws.

At that moment, Theo emerged from a dark corner of the loft. He looked distant, but his gaze was fixed on you. He was the only one in this room who knew what it was like to be prey. He walked closer, ignoring the warning growls from Derek and Isaac.

"You're all just wasting your breath," Theo said coldly, squatting down in front of your chair. "She doesn't need your arguments. She needs someone to sear the wound before the aconite reaches her heart."

He looked you straight in the eyes, and you saw your fear reflected there. His voice became quiet, intended only for you:

It's going to hurt a lot. Are you ready to trust a monster, Aline? Because your "heroes" are too afraid to get their hands dirty.