"HOW LONG ARE WE PLANNING ON STARING AT THE WALL?"
Everyone turned to look at Sierra, whose arms crossed over her chest with her leg bouncing from the chills that ran down her body. Noticing their stares, she continued with a mere shrug, "I mean, it's a pretty interesting wall."
"She does have a point," Kira agreed as she hugged her jacket closer to her body. "How do we get in through here?"
"This is exactly like the lock from outside," Stiles observed, running his hands over the grate in the wall. "It only opens with claws. Anyone's claws, right?"
Kira and Malia weren't paying close enough to Scott to notice him discretely shake his head in disagreement. Yet the second Scott moved Sierra's eyes drifted over. Her brows furrowed as Scott and Stiles exchanged knowing glances, making her wonder what was running in their heads.
Then, in sync, both boys shifted to face Malia. "Can you try opening it?" Scott asked her.
"Why me?"
Scott held up his hands, showing her he couldn't sprout his claws. "I don't have control."
"Okay, I'll do it," Malia shrugged, not seeing it as a big deal. However, the conversation she had with Sierra and Kira rang through her mind and she added, "But first tell me what you've been hiding from me."
"I know you think you're trying to protect me, but I can handle it."
Scott and Stiles clearly were caught off guard, simultaneously widening their eyes as Sierra felt their anxiety increase. Due to the weird behavior, Sierra became interested in the situation and tilted her head, studying them.
Malia didn't like the silence. "I know I'm on the list!" she burst, Stiles quickly masking his confusion by nodding his head.
"Yep," he confirmed. "That's uh, what we didn't want you to find out."
But Sierra caught his heart jump.
"So how much?" Malia questioned, naturally curious.
"How much what?"
Malia clarified, "How much am I worth?"
"I'm intrigued as well," Sierra commented, narrowing her eyes at her boyfriend, who gulped. "I never ended up seeing your name on the dead pool, Mal."
"She's worth four million," Scott answered under his breath, letting out a sigh.
Malia stayed quiet for a moment, more than likely processing the news that she ranked higher than most.
Concerned, Sierra asked, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Malia looked back up at Sierra and offered her a small smile. "I mean, you're worth thirty, Scott's twenty-five and Kira is six. People are going to go after Scott and Kira way before me."
Sierra stifled a laugh, while Kira and Scott looked offended. "Why wouldn't Sierra die first?" he asked Malia, folding his arms. "She's worth the most."
"Because people would have to go through me, Stiles, Jemma and Derek to get to her," Malia replied with a shrug, stepping forward to unlock the vault. "The assassins want someone easy."
Scott dropped his jaw. "I'm not easy!"
"It's progress," Stiles assured his best friend, patting him on the shoulder. "Just let it go, dude."
Within seconds, the cement wall slid away to reveal the Hale vault.
The teenagers walked in slowly, all of their eyes scanning the area. Shelves stretched from the floor to the high ceiling, filled with all kinds of unknown objects. A tall safe stood to their left, next to stacks of boxes.
"Well," Kira spoke first after the door shut behind them, everyone standing around, unsure. "What do we do now?"
Sierra and Scott exchanged glances, hiding their worry from their friends as she straightened her back. She declared, "Now, we find a place to sit. We're gonna be in here for a while."
*^*^*^*^*
Surprisingly, Stiles wasn't as bored in the vault as he thought he would be. His fear of what could happen to Sierra or the others clouded his thoughts, but he put on a brave face as he held onto his girlfriend.
Once Sierra claimed her head was spinning, he didn't hesitate to let her rest her head in his lap. Her body curled towards him as deep breaths escaped her chapped lips, his fingers repeatedly and gently playing through her hair to keep her calm. Her bright eyes had fluttered shut, but Stiles knew she was awake from her eyebrows being tightly drawn together.
Still, he couldn't bother to speak up. All the words he wanted to spill to her got caught in his throat as he swallowed hard. Stiles wanted to tell her the truth about Malia, and he needed to do it before she found out from someone other than him. Sierra was practically a genius, and she knew he was keeping something from her. She just hadn't asked about it yet.
The problem was Stiles didn't know how to phrase the secret.
The werecoyote meant a lot to Sierra, he knew that, but what he didn't know is how she'd react once she found out whose blood ran through Malia's veins.
His eyes flickered to Malia, who was using Sierra's hip as a pillow. Unintentionally, the grip he had on Sierra tightened, his thumb brushing over her arm. Knowing his thoughts were going to cause him to explode, he caught Scott's attention. "You know, this is where it started."
His best friend raised his head from where he was sitting, watching as Stiles lifted a finger to point to the safe behind him. "The money was in there," Stiles informed him, Kira now paying attention as well. "One hundred and seventeen million in bearer bonds."
Just wanting to pass time, Kira asked, "How do you even turn bearer bonds into cash?"
"The bank, I guess." Stiles's tone grew bitter as he added, "They just let it sit here collecting dust."
"Bearer bonds are basically extinct," his face softened from hearing Sierra speak, a cough stopping her from going on.
Confused and concerned, Kira replied, "Why does that matter?"
"Well, I know for Jemma and I that money could solve a lot of problems," Sierra's voice raised as she tried to sit up, Stiles immediately keeping an arm around her so she could still lean on him without disturbing Malia. "We're still paying off hospital bills."
"Yeah, the MRI and Eichen House bills are crushing my dad too," Stiles revealed with a sigh, laying his head on top of hers.
"Mom does this thing," Scott finally spoke from next to Kira, scratching his neck in he embarrassment regarding what he was about to say. "She, uh, writes down all the items in our budget, and how much they cost. Then, she adds it all up and figures out how long we have until...well, we lose the house."
"I just hate feeling like I can't do anything to help, you know?" Sierra asked them, her eyes cast towards the floor in shame. "I told Jemma I would get a job, but she keeps telling me that I am just a kid. That I have enough on my plate."
"Why do adults do that?" Scott wondered aloud, speaking the question flitting through everyone's minds. "Think we shouldn't know about finances and things."
"I think it's because we keep them in the dark about the supernatural," Stiles replied honestly. "I mean, think about it. We don't tell them about our near-death experiences, they don't tell us about the bills."
"I hate secrets," Sierra announced with a heavy breath. She didn't notice the look Stiles and Scott exchanged out of worry as she continued, "They just ruin plans."
"Speaking of plans," Scott's ears perked and he raised to his feet, moving towards the vault door. "Do you hear that?"
Stiles furrowed his brows together, but didn't verbally answer. Instead, he stood which caused Sierra to want to follow. "No, no, no," he rushed out quietly. "You stay seated, string bean. I don't need you passing out on me."
"You know, normally I would argue with you and stand to make a point," Sierra started off with her signature fire, making him crack a grin, "but I'm too tired. So, I'm just gonna lay here."
She leaned her head back against the wall, letting out a sigh as he pressed a kiss to her cheek before joining Scott's side. "Hear anything?" he asked.
"They're looking for us," Scott replied quietly. "Someone's gonna have to go out there."
Stiles twisted his fingers, racking his brain for a solution. Of course he knew he would be the one to leave; after all, he was the only human in the vault. But he didn't want to leave Sierra.
His eyes drifted to where she sat against the wall, Malia's head now resting in her lap while she conversed quietly with Kira. The poison was obviously taking a toll on the girls, but Sierra looked like she had been hit harder. Her skin was paling, and her eyes looked sunken into her flushed cheeks.
Scott followed his gaze and let out a small sigh. He hated being in this position, where he was lying to his best friend. Then there was Malia, who hadn't done any wrong to him and only wanted to help. What kind of person was he being if he kept secrets from all the people he cared about? Scott sensed Stiles felt the same way, observing how crestfallen he seemed before he whispered, "We need to tell them the truth about Peter."
Seeing the alarmed look cross Stiles's face, Scott finished, "You know they're gonna see the rest of the dead pool eventually."
Stiles swallowed hard, but didn't agree quickly. He lowered his voice, stepping closer to Scott. "Try and remember that Peter is the one name missing from that list," he pointed out. "Which, either makes him incredibly lucky or the Benefactor. If Malia finds out, she's gonna go to him-- you know she is. Then, he's gonna twist his way into her head like he does with everyone, including us."
"We let him walk around like nothing's happened, like he's one of the good guys. Scott, he's not one of the good guys," Stiles emphasized, feeling his anger rise from the thought of the former alpha. "Or did you forget how he tried to kill you? How he practically killed Sierra by clawing out her throat? If we tell Malia, she's gone. And that's probably what he's waiting for and he wins, we lose."
"We're already losing," Scott retaliated, his voice soft but sharp. "Of course, I remember everything he's done, Stiles. But you and I both know that keeping a secret from Sierra only makes matters worse. With the dead pool and everything else going on, none of us can afford to keep information to ourselves. We need to stand together."
Stiles didn't say anything at first, because he knew Scott was right. The trio needed to be completely honest with one another. After what happened last winter, none of them wanted to lose anyone else.
"Okay," Stiles let out a heavy breath. "We'll tell her--we'll tell both of them. Let's just make it out of here alive first."
"Deal," Scott sighed in relief, happy Stiles agreed with him. He held up his hand for a fist bump, but froze at the sight of black blood dripping from his fingernails.
"Scott?" Stiles called out to him worriedly, grabbing onto his shoulders as Scott swayed from a sudden wave of nausea. "Dude, are you alright?"
"It's, it's getting worse," Scott leaned against the cement for support, squeezing his eyes shut from the pain.
"You need to go. Now."
*^*^*^*^*
"Sierra," Stiles called her name gently, knelt down in front of her. "Sierra?"
He used the back of his hand to feel her forehead, cursing under her breath from her skin feeling like fire. It took Sierra a minute to respond to him, Stiles needing to brush some loose strands of hair behind her ear and rubbing her shoulder before she slowly opened her eyes. "Hey, string bean," he greeted, forcing a smile on his lips.
Sierra let out a small groan and sat up straighter, trying to focus on him through her blurred vision. "What's going on?" she croaked, her voice cracking from dehydration.
"I need to leave for a few, okay?" he answered.
"Where are you going?"
"Whatever is happening," he started, attempting to hide his fear from her. But she knew better. "It's worse for you guys. Which means it's not just people getting sick. It's what we thought earlier; another assassin."
"You can't go alone," Sierra told him sternly, her overprotective nature shining through as she started to stand. "I'll go with you."
Stiles quickly stopped her movements. "No, no, no, you're staying here," he instructed. "I'm not on the list, Sierra, you are. Which means you are safer here in the vault, while I go try to find some answers."
"But you could get hurt," Sierra fought weakly, lifting her hand to grasp his.
His face softened as he looked into her worried eyes, and instead of responding he pressed an assuring kiss on her temple. Then, he shrugged off his black jean jacket to rest it around her shoulders. "I'll be okay," he told her, wiping away a stray tear from under her eyes.
"You're coming back, right?"
Sierra didn't know how to feel and the question slipped through her lips before she could rethink it. She had lost so many people; she couldn't lose him too. Not after everything they had been through together.
"You know I would never leave you behind," he promised wholeheartedly, moving her hand so it rested right over where his ring hung around his neck. "So, just hold on, okay? Everything's gonna be fine."
Sierra managed to nod, feeling too drowsy to reply verbally.
"That's my girl."
Stiles took what he could get and kissed her hand delicately, before he rose to his feet. He held onto her fingers until he was too far apart, forcing himself to turn away as tears welled in Sierra's eyes.
She didn't know why fear chose to attack her in that moment, especially since they had survived against horrible threats in the past. But the emotion twisted her insides, and Sierra couldn't help but think the worst as Stiles cast one more look at her over his shoulder before disappearing behind the wall.
*^*^*^*^*
When Stiles arrived back upstairs, he had one mission.
He needed to find a cure, and he needed to find it now.
Weaving through the air-tight tents and CDC officials in hazmat suits, Stiles attempted to find Mr. Yukimura to see if he held any new information. Mrs. Martin caught his attention, concerned by the paleness of his skin and the sweat dripping down his face. "Stiles, you're not looking so good, maybe you ought to lie down," she suggested worriedly.
"I'm fine," Stiles brushed it off. "Have you seen Mr. Yukimura?" Stiles was well aware of how sick he was getting, the main giveaway being the lesions spreading up his wrists. The pain ate at him just like it did when the Nogitsune took control of his body, his muscles aching and begging for him to lie down. But he couldn't rest. He couldn't stop moving until his friends were safe.
"Yeah, he's fine," Mrs. Martin confirmed quickly once she saw his urgency. "He's helping the other students."
Stiles nodded multiple times, processing the information quickly so he could think of what to do next. He took a step away from his friend's mother, yet froze as he noticed another familiar face in one of the tents. "Is Coach the only adult who got sick today?" he questioned, thinking of how Mrs. Martin looked perfectly healthy. As did Mr. Yukimura when they were planning in the locker room.
Mrs. Martin shot him a look of confusion, but replied, "As far as I know, yes."
"Why is he the only one?" he mumbled his thoughts under his breath, theories flying through his mind.
"Stiles," Mrs. Martin's tone was one of apprehension. "I think you should lie down."
"Yeah, no, it's okay," he assured her, moving away. "I'll be back, I'll be right back."
His feet led him to Coach's office, his intuition telling him a major clue lied in the reason behind Coach getting infected. If Stiles could figure out what got everyone sick, he could figure out how to save them. How to save Sierra.
His heart pounded in his chest as he rushed to search every cabinet, every shelf...every part of Coach's office. His frustration from no results caused him to angrily slam the drawer to Finstock's desk closed. He bit onto his thumbnail, thinking of a new plan while his knee bounced anxiously.
But then his eyes landed on the liability appeasement forms.
Resting in a neat pile, filled with student information and parental permission. Stiles's focus, though, was the red stamp that stated, 'Approved.' Shuffling through the slips, he noticed the word fading, until suddenly the ink changed to black. And when Stiles glanced up, the same ink smeared the handle of Coach's mug.
It didn't take him long to piece the whole scheme together, remembering how he and every other student had to give their thumbprint that morning before they began testing. There was only one person he hadn't recognized in their school building, one person who most certainly did not belong there.
The testing official.
Stiles wanted to cry out. His suspicion about the strange man had been right.
"I was wondering how that idiot got sick," an eerie voice spoke up, causing Stiles to instantly scramble to stand and back away from the door. The man stood there with a smirk, "You know, I'm also wondering where your friends are."
Stiles didn't say a word.
But that could've been because his eyes were glued to the gun in the fake official's hand, a silencer being twisted to the end. "Because in order to get paid by the Benefactor," he continued sickly, "I need to have proof they are dead."
Stiles recognized this. "Visual confirmation?"
The man raised his eyebrows, impressed with Stiles's knowledge. But that didn't stop his smirk from widening as he raised the gun to point at him. "Exactly."
He forced Stiles to move towards the door, leading him into the locker room. "You still look feverish, Stilinski," he observed, "but you should know something. The virus doesn't kill humans. You'll get better. So don't you think you should tell me where they are? Shouldn't one of you get to live?"
Stiles stopped walking, his jaw locked in anger. What kind of assassin thought he'd turn against his loved ones?
"I think I saw them in the library," Stiles finally answered quietly, his back to the murderer. The assassin almost believed him, shocked that he'd give up his friends's location. Then Stiles continued, "Or it might've been the cafeteria--definitely one of those two though."
The man's face hardened. "I'm going to count to three," he stated, eerily calm with a steady hand on his gun's trigger. "And then I am going to kill you."
Stiles instantly turned around, not afraid to meet his eyes with a glare. "You think you can scare me?"
This wasn't the first time his life had been threatened, much less with a gun pointed straight at his chest. But the assassin's words stung; he sounded so arrogant and confident in his plan. Stiles wanted to rage about how he didn't know who he was dealing with. Stiles and his friends had survived Peter, Gerard, Deucalion--even a demon who stole his identity. This...this chemist was nothing compared to them. And, he would not be the one to take Stiles away from Sierra.
"No," the Chemist retorted. "I think I can kill you. I just thought the countdown would make it more...exciting." He raised the gun, pressing the muzzle between Stiles's eyebrows. "So, one."
Stiles's breath hitched, his eyes clouded in tears as reality set in. "Two."
He wasn't a werewolf; he couldn't use claws to fight back. He wasn't an empath; he couldn't use a seismic blast to knock the Chemist off balance. He was a human, but he wasn't one to betray the people he loved.
Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, accepting his fate as his bottom lip trembled.
And then a shot rang out.
Blood coated Stiles's face, but it wasn't his.
The Chemist's cold eyes stared at him, a gaping hole right above his eyebrows. His dead body collapsed, leading Stiles to spit and stutter in shock. His heart pounded in his chest, unable to comprehend that he was still alive.
And it was because of the person who stepped out from the office doorway.
Stiles's brain ran a million thoughts but only question slipped from his tongue as Raphael revealed himself under the hazmat suit. "Where the hell did you come from?"
"Stiles, listen," Raphael spoke slowly, as the boy had just witnessed something traumatic. Raphael approached Stiles carefully, resting a hand on his shoulder while he tried to normalize his breathing. "I got a call from Melissa," Raphael explained. "I don't know what it means but she said there's an antidote. It's in the vault. Reishi mushrooms--"
"Wait, what?" Stiles couldn't believe it. "It's in the vault?"
"In a jar on one of the shelves," Raphael confirmed, nodding his head. "She said to tell Scott. It's in the vault."
That was all he needed to hear.
Stiles sprinted off, adrenaline flooding his veins as he ran back through the hallways. He wove through CDC officials and students, practically jumping down the stairs to get to the basement.
He needed to make it in time. If he didn't, his friends would be gone forever.
*^*^*^*^*
"Sierra! Scott!"
Sierra could barely open her eyes at the sound of someone faintly yelling her name. But it didn't matter; her vision disappeared ten minutes prior. She knew Malia laid right beside her, clutching her hand as they fought to stay alive. She promised Stiles she would hold on, but Sierra didn't know how much longer she could last.
Black blood oozed from her fingernails and her body trembled while dark veins stretched across her neck. Scott resembled her almost perfectly, his body propped against the door. He heard Stiles pounding on the other side, using all the strength he had to try and stand up.
"It's called Reishi mushrooms!" Stiles's words rushed through his ears. "Scott? Scott, open the door!"
Stiles beat his fist against the cement, raising his voice to repeat exactly what Raphael told him. It was in there with them, somewhere on a shelf. "Scott! Sierra, can you hear me?!"
Desperation clawed at Stiles while fear worsened his thoughts. Red tears dripped down his face as he slammed his hands again and again, hoping one of them could hear him. But he never heard a sound.
Sobs escaped his mouth as Stiles fell to his knees, the silence screaming at him. He was too late.
His vision was coming and going in fragments, Scott realized as he leaned himself against the wall. All he wanted to do was lie back down, but he knew his friends couldn't go out like this. They were not going to be pawns in some sick person's game. Not anymore. He could do this.
Faintly, he saw Sierra and Malia on the floor a few feet away, Sierra struggling to breathe. Kira used her strength to whisper she saw the mushrooms. "On the shelf," the kitsune uttered. "By the vault...on the shelf."
Scott focused, squeezing his eyes shut to gain a little control over his abilities. He didn't have long. But all he needed was to find the antidote.
Everything was red or black through his werewolf lens as he looked around the vault, but when his head turned to the left something glowed.
He stumbled as soon as he released the wall, his strength fading. Yet he got back up, using all he had. His fingers curled into the metal racks, Scott lifting himself up just enough to stretch out his hand. He could feel the glass jar centimeters away from him. Scott let out a shout, giving everything so the jar fell forward and smashed into the cement.
Instantly, Scott inhaled deeply so the antidote could get into his system. The particles spread to the others, whirled up from the glass shattering.
Stiles, still on the other side, had buried his head in his hands. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He thought he failed; he thought Scott and Sierra were dead. Other than his father, they were his family. How would he live without them?
And then the wall started to move.
Stiles scrambled to turn around. When he saw Scott's face appear, his arms reached out to catch him. Scott lifted his head with a gasp, taking his time to breathe while his body healed. The veins on his face had disappeared, his cheeks regaining their color.
The friends looked at each other with relief, Stiles moving his hand to rest on Scott's shoulder. Stiles let out a breath of his own, unable to believe Scott was okay. His eyes glanced up to see the girls still in the vault. "Are they--" he couldn't make himself finish.
"They're okay," Scott assured him, nodding slowly. He accepted Stiles's help in sitting up against the wall before he told him, "Go to her, Stiles. Go check on Sierra; she was worried about you."
"Well, I was worried about her too," Stiles cracked a small smile, patting his friend on the back. "I was worried about all of you."
Scott returned the grin, fluttering his eyes shut for a moment before Stiles helped him to his feet. While Scott went to Kira, Stiles listened to his instructions and headed over to Sierra and Malia. Both girls were now sitting up, Sierra's focus cast to the floor.
"Hey, are you two alright?" Stiles asked, concerned as he knelt down in front of them.
Malia didn't even look at him.
She felt hurt; she felt betrayed. Ever since she turned back human, Stiles and Sierra had been by her side to help her out. They studied with her, took her out for meals and bought her clothes.
And yet, it had all been a lie.
Stiles reached out for Malia at the lack of response, thinking the werecoyote was simply in shock from the near-death experience. "Mal?"
She caught his hand before he even touched her shoulder. Without sparing him a glance, Malia raised to her feet. Her gaze remained forward as she walked out of the vault, not saying a word and not looking back.
Scott, who now supported Kira against his side, glanced back at Stiles with widened eyes, nudging his head towards Sierra.
Like Malia, she never uttered a word. But when she looked up at Stiles, her teary eyes betrayed her and gave away every emotion flitting through her heart.
She wanted to scream at him, she wanted to cry. Instead, Sierra simply held up the paper holding the truth: Malia was Peter's daughter.
And Stiles had known, but didn't tell her.
Stiles's lips parted in surprise. He never wanted Sierra to find out that way. He was going to tell her; he promised Scott he would. But Sierra didn't want to hear it. She cut him off before he emitted a sound. "How could you?"
The words broke Stiles's heart.
"Sierra--"
Her hand stopped him from continuing. Who knew if the words he proclaimed would even be the truth?
Though she hadn't fully healed yet, Sierra couldn't stand to be in the vault anymore. She felt suffocated just being near him. She needed to clear her head. She needed to get away.
Standing, she shoved the deadpool back at Stiles and brushed past him so she could leave. But when her eyes landed on Scott, she hesitated. Glancing between her best friends, she asked him with her voice cracking, "Did you know?"
The look on Scott's face told her everything.
Sierra scoffed, clenching her fists angrily at her side. "Unbelievable."
Stiles chased after her, grabbing hold of her wrist so she would turn and face him. "Sierra, wait!" he urged her desperately. "I can explain!"
"Oh, can you?" she questioned, anger seething in her tone. "Go on, give me another excuse. Tell me another lie so I can forgive you and Scott on the spot."
"We were going to tell you!" Stiles told her seriously, and reiterated himself once she rolled her eyes. "We were, I promise!"
"It doesn't matter if you were going to tell me eventually or not, you should've told me the second you found out!" Sierra argued back, yanking her wrist out of his grip. "Malia means a lot to me--"
"I know she does," Stiles interceded. "That's why we didn't want to tell you--"
"No," Sierra didn't accept his answer, shaking her head. "By knowing how much Malia means to me, you should've told me immediately. What, did you think I was going to suddenly hate her just because she's related to Peter?!"
Sierra didn't ask the question literally, but the way Stiles's face faltered made her want to cry all over again. Her fingers shook in frustration, but the way her voice trembled revealed she was hurt above all else. "I...I can't believe this. I cannot believe you."
Stiles stood across from her, his head cast to the floor in shame. He didn't know what to say to make her feel better; he didn't know what he was supposed to do.
A moment passed, the air thick with tension as Sierra tried to think. And as soon as the words fell from her lips, Stiles's head shot up.
"I think we need... some space," she said first, her own heart breaking from her words.
Stiles's jaw dropped to protest and he took a step forward.
But all she did was take a step back.
"You'd think by now I'd be used to the lies," Sierra declared, shaking her head with tears in her eyes. "You actually believed I would abandon Malia? Even while knowing how much she means to me?" Her fingers messed with the ring around her neck, a shaky breath escaping her. "I just.... I thought you thought more of me. I thought that you knew me better than anyone."
"Sierra, I do know you better than anyone," Stiles tried again, but she interrupted.
"No, you don't!" Her voice raised unintentionally. "If you did we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."
Stiles quickly moved so he could rest his hands against her cheeks. "Sierra don't do this, please. I'm sorry, okay? I'm so sorry. But please don't turn away from me. From us."
Sierra's eyes fluttered closed at his touch, but she couldn't do what he asked. "You turned away first," she replied quietly, Stiles not wanting to accept what was happening. "I...I need timeâtime to think. About you. About Malia and about myself. I just need space."
Stiles stayed quiet for a moment, knowing there wasn't anything he could do to change her mind. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes to focus on the girl he loved more than anyone.
"Okay," he finally whispered in defeat.
"Okay," Sierra agreed, barely nodding her head. She slowly stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side.
Stiles fought with himself to go after her once more when she started to walk away, but he couldn't go back on his word. Not again. Instead, three little words slipped through his lips.
"I love you."
Sierra paused, the desperate phrase hitting her heart hard. She wanted to say it back, she wanted to turn around and hug him. But she didn't.
She just kept walking.