The Beacon Hills High parking lot had never felt so loud and so silent at the same time.
Car doors slammed. Engines rumbled. Laughter rose too high, too sharp, like everyone was pretending nothing unusual had happened. Conversations cut off the moment someone walked too close. Life was moving — aggressively normal — and yet the air still felt charged, like a storm had passed but left something behind.
Evelyn remained seated in her car a few seconds longer than necessary, hands resting on the steering wheel, eyes fixed straight ahead.
After the parent–teacher conference, something felt even odder than usual.
She had gone with her mother, of course. Not because she really wanted to, but to keep her mother's attitude in check.
But as usual, Mrs. Wood had done what she did best: unsettle every adult in a five-foot radius. She had smiled too little, spoken too slowly, and looked at teachers as though she were evaluating their spiritual fortitude rather than their grading standards.
Evelyn had endured it with her usual expression of I swear I am not like her.
And then it happened.
The panic.
A real mountain lion in the school parking lot.
For a split second, Evelyn had thought it was a cruel metaphor made flesh.
The animal had emerged between the cars in a fluid, powerful movement, and the noise had died instantly. Screams. Teachers shouting for students to get inside. People frozen where they stood.
And then — one sharp gunshot.
Chris Argent.
Precise. Clean. Immediate.
The animal collapsed onto the asphalt, blood spreading beneath it in a dark stain, and there had been no hesitation in his eyes. No remorse.
She had never seen a hunter before.
Evelyn had felt something tighten inside her chest.
Not just fear.
Because she couldn't stop thinking about the Alpha.
A mountain lion appearing at that exact moment, in that exact place, in a town already cursed by a creature killing in the dark. Coincidence? Or warning?
"God, I sound like my mother," she said, rubbing her eyes with her hand.
Speaking of which...
Her mother had grown even more paranoid after that, if that was possible. Candles lit at strange hours. Protective circles of mountain ash near the windows. Plants repositioned like green sentinels along the hallway. Old phrases repeated like ritual.
She had never seen her like that, and it only made that sense of worry and anxiety grow in Evelyn. It was the first time for her. Her life outside her house had always been ordinary… or at least she had tried to keep it that way. But recently she felt on edge, like something could happen any second, like something was watching her.
She had even spoken to Deaton about it the evening before, at work.
They were waiting for the first appointment to arrive, and they were also waiting for Scott. Since he had become a werewolf, he was always late for work. Deaton pretended to get angry about it, to keep his true identity hidden, but he would have never fired him.
"You're quiet today," Deaton said as he was fixing his white coat. "You're early for your weekly existential crisis," he added, observing her.
"It's Tuesday," Evelyn replied, playing with the pen in her hand. "We've upgraded to biweekly."
He raised an eyebrow curiously. "School?" Evelyn shook her head. "Boys?"
She almost gasped. "Have I told you that I broke up with Daniel?"
"No, I believe not," Deaton answered, starting to clean the medical table.
Evelyn nodded. "Well, I did," she said, before taking a breath. "But that's not it." Then she looked down at the appointments for the next day. "Can we move Mrs. Feldman's golden retriever to Thursday? Because tomorrow might not be ideal for a dog that bites when stressed. And I might not be… available."
"Why?" he asked with a slight frown.
"Mom is going crazy at home," she explained. "Yesterday she didn't sell even a single flower at the store, and I need money for college." Deaton turned to her pensively.
"She's not taking it well, is she?" Evelyn shook her head.
"Do all Emissaries get crazy like her? Are you too?" she asked, but he didn't respond. He just observed her. Like always, especially if they spoke of such matters. Then she took a breath and looked back at the appointments. "Or maybe we can move the Kim spay surgery up a day? And push the eczema cat? He usually likes Scott," then she paused for a moment. "If he makes it in time… I'm not ruining the schedule, right?"
Deaton observed her for another moment before walking closer, his arms crossed over his chest. "Evelyn, what is going on?"
The girl looked down, pausing for a moment. "Have you ever felt like you were being watched? Not in a paranoid way — okay, maybe in a slightly paranoid way — but still…"
Deaton didn't answer immediately. "Beacon Hills is a place where many things observe. Or make you feel that way."
Evelyn wasn't sure she liked that answer. "That's not comforting."
The man gave a quick glance toward the door before turning back to her. "The more you get to know about all of this, the more you may feel overwhelmed."
"That's what my mother says," she said, but he shook his head.
"That's what your mother fears," Deaton corrected her, and Evelyn let out a nervous breath. "And I can't blame her, Evelyn."
"Yeah… I know, I know," she said, getting up. "If it makes you all feel better, it's not like I want to be pulled into this kind of life."
"But you need to learn—"
"Yeah, knowledge is important, especially for the kind of family that I have, I know," she interrupted Deaton, turning to look at him. "I know. Just…" she took another breath. "It's getting difficult knowing things and not being able to tell them. And not wanting to have anything to do with all of this, but having my mind constantly thinking about everything that is happening. It's just…" she let out a small groan of frustration, covering her face with her hands as if trying to rub away the feeling. "I don't know… I don't know!"
Deaton listened to her in silence, like he did every time she had some kind of breakdown like that. He was patient with her and all her changes of heart and mind. She had often told him that she wished to stop studying, but then she came back with ten questions that needed answers.
"Do you want to tell the truth to Scott?" he asked after several minutes of silence.
"Well, I surely have to come up with something more witty than movies and books," Evelyn said, sitting down. "When I helped Derek Hale, I think I said something about my family…" Deaton frowned at her, but she kept going before he could ask anything. "Then I told him that my mom used to love D&D and wished she could become an elf. He's seen my mother. It's not difficult to believe." Then she took another breath. She had been observing Scott since he had been bitten, and she knew that trouble only followed when you got close to that side of life.
"What if they need help?" she asked in a whisper. "I mean… It's just him and Stiles. With an Alpha killing people, hunters roaming the town, and a vampire who decided to go back to school."
"Our duty is to keep the balance between nature, humans, and creatures," Deaton told her again. "But we do not interfere. Especially you."
She really didn't know what she had to do. And that feeling had followed her until the next day. It stucked against her skin, as if it was her own skin and it was unconfortable.
Do I interfeer? Should I not? Do I want?
Her hand went to the little bottle hunging around her neck. Finding the coldness of the glass a little grounding. She had taken the habit to play with it as she felt nervous. But she didn't like to feel nervous.
She liked to party, and hung out with her friends. She liked shopping and date boys. But all seemed not to entertain her as it used to. It was like in her mind there was this heavy fog, that didn't want to go away.
Who was the Alpha? She kept asking herself.
The school day had already begun by the time Evelyn finally allowed herself to slow down.
First period had passed in a blur of half-heard explanations and restless thoughts, the clock ticking louder than usual, every minute stretching thin like something about to snap. She had tried to focus—on notes, on dates, on the shape of words written across the board—but her mind kept circling back to the same uneasy constellation of names: the Alpha, the hunters, Scarlett, Derek...
By the time the bell rang and the hallway filled with movement, she felt like she had been holding her breath for an hour.
She saw them after second period.
Scott and Stiles were standing near the lockers at the far end of the corridor, talking too closely, too urgently for it to be about homework. Stiles' hands were moving in sharp gestures, frustration written across his face in bright, exaggerated strokes, while Scott kept looking around as if expecting something—or someone—to overhear.
Scarlett wasn't there even that day.
That made Evelyn stop walking for half a second. She had always found strange the presence of a vampire in a school. Vampires were solitary creatures. Dangerous.
They did not enroll in public high schools and sit through algebra. They did not navigate crowded hallways full of exposed throats and racing pulses.
They hunted. They hid. They endured.
And yet Scarlett had chosen this.
Evelyn couldn't understand how she managed it—how she stood in rooms packed with warm bodies and didn't lose control. There was so much blood everywhere. So much temptation. The scent alone should have been overwhelming. The proximity. The vulnerability.
Or unless she was far more disciplined than most of her kind. Deaton had told her that Talia Hale had taken her in and thought about her new life.
Maybe she was worrying too much.
And since no one had been killed inside the school. No drained bodies had been found in locker rooms or behind bleachers. No unexplained disappearances tied back to her. She wasn't killing anyone, so... there was balance.
And balance meant Evelyn was not supposed to interfere.
That was the rule.
Still, something felt wrong. Like did the Alpha killing recklessly. Hunters moving openly. And Derek Hale...
It didn't feel like balance.
It felt like pressure building under the surface.
Stiles suddenly turned slightly, as if sensing her gaze, and Evelyn dropped her eyes at once, pretending to adjust the strap of her bag. She needed to stay out of it. That was what she had decided. No more stepping forward. No more explanations. No more almost-revealing truths.
Neutral.
She moved down the hallway without looking back.
Throughout the rest of the day, she avoided them carefully but not obviously—taking longer routes between classes, lingering near stairwells until the corridors cleared, slipping into rooms just before the late bell rang so she wouldn't cross paths with questioning eyes.
It should have felt responsible. But instead, it felt cowardly.
She hated that part.
But staying away was safer. For them. For her.
By the time the final bell rang, she felt exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with schoolwork.
She didn't go home immediately.
She drove to the flower shop.
Wood & Thorn looked harmless from the outside—wide windows crowded with seasonal bouquets, handwritten chalkboard signs announcing fresh deliveries and sympathy arrangements—but stepping inside was like walking into something older than commerce.
The air was thick with damp earth and crushed stems, the scent layered and alive. Ferns hung from the ceiling in deliberate arcs. Ivy traced slow paths along wooden beams. Pots were arranged not randomly but almost strategically, as if forming invisible boundaries.
Her mother believed in placement.
Protection could look like decoration.
"You're late," her mother said without turning, fingers deep in a tray of soil as she adjusted white peonies in a low ceramic bowl.
"Yeah, I know," Evelyn replied, tying her hair back.
She moved behind the counter and let the routine take over. She wrapped stems in paper. She tied twine into neat bows. She listened to customers talk about anniversaries and funerals and apologies disguised as bouquets.
It was almost calming.
Almost.
She had just handed a middle-aged woman a carefully arranged bundle of pale tulips when she heard a voice behind her.
"Excuse me."
It was smooth. Confident. Lightly amused.
Evelyn turned.
The woman standing there didn't look like she belonged among the moss and muted earth tones. She was too sharp for that. Blonde hair falling in deliberate waves, posture relaxed but precise, eyes bright with something that Evelyn couldn't quite place, but she was smiling at her politely.
"How can I help you?" Evelyn asked returning the smile.
"I'm looking for something special," the woman said, tilting her head slightly.
The woman's gaze drifted briefly over the shop—slow, observant, assessing—before returning to Evelyn, "I'm looking for something… meaningful," she said lightly. "Nothing romantic. Just something that says I care without sounding desperate."
Evelyn tilted her head slightly with a little chuckle. "Yeah, it's better not to show all the cards."
The woman laughed, "Us girls have strategies." Evelyn nodded her head, before looking around the shop.
"I would keep away from roses then. Too romantic," the girl proposed, "So maybe I would go with Peonies, or Camellias. They mean 'I care about you' but nothing desperate."
The woman laughed, "I like that," for some reason though, this time, the smile didn't reach her eyes. But Evelyn pushed that thought away. She really needed to stop to over analyze people.
"I... I'll get them then," she said turning to go take enough flowers to make a bouquet. As she did, Evelyn didn't miss the woman following her. Her movements graceful, deliberate, but at the same time they were making her a bit... uneasy.
"Do you always work here?" She asked almost casually. "Or is this some sort of after-school community service situation?"
"I work here," Evelyn replied evenly. "Family business."
"Oh." The woman's brows lifted with interest. "I also have a family business myself." Evelyn didn't answer as she took some camellias in her hands, and for some reason that uneasy feeling came back, but she did all she could to keep calm.
The woman hummed, then leaned casually against the counter. "You go to Beacon Hills High, don't you?"
It wasn't an aggressive question. It was phrased almost lazily. But it didn't change the situation. Evelyn's posture didn't change, though her mind sharpened. "Yes."
"My niece goes there too," the woman continued smoothly, a faint smile on her lips. "Maybe you know her."
Evelyn turned to her, "Who is she?"
"Her name is Allison Argent," the woman replied, watching her closely now.
An Argent. That woman was and Argent. And for some reason Evelyn's hands clenched around the flower. Those people were dangerous, not for her, but why did she felt threatened by the way that woman was speaking to her.
"Yeah..." she answered with a nod, clearing her voice to make it clear, "Yeah, I know her," then she forced a smile, "She's nice."
"Yeah, she is..." the woman murmured, almost absentmindedly, as if pleased by something beyond the answer.
The phrasing made Evelyn's spine stiffen.
"And you are?" she asked, feeling like that woman was stuidying her and now she got why.
"Kate Argent," A slow smile curved the woman's lips, before she tilted her head. "And what is your name, little flower?"
"Evelyn Davis," she answered, not knowing if she had made a mistake for some reason.
Why was she there? Did she knew something about Scott? Was she there for him? Or was she really there to buy flowers?
"You've lived here long, Evelyn?" Kate asked casually, but her sharp eyes never left her, as Evelyn moved to the counter starting to fold the colorful paper around the flowers.
"All my life."
"Mmm." Kate muttered taking a breath. "Must be interesting, growing up somewhere like this."
Evelyn's lips turned up in a nervous smile that she tried to keep relaxed, "Not much, actually."
"Not much?" the woman laughed, "I find this place extremely interesting. Mountain lions in the woods, getting frenzy in the night. You don't hear this kind of things often."
"Well... Beacon Hills does have a flair for drama," Evelyn replied.
Kate glanced at her sharply, amused. "I know, right?"
There was a pause.
Too long for a normal customer interaction.
"You seem very composed," Kate observed. "Most girls your age get flustered talking about danger."
"I've grown up surrounded by gardening tools sharp enough to defend myself," Evelyn said not too lightly.
Kate laughed—genuine this time. "I like you, Evelyn."
But Evelyn wasn't sure that was a compliment.
"And tell me," Kate continued, her tone dipping almost imperceptibly lower, "do you have a boyfriend?" Evelyn frowned at the question, "My niece is dating a sweet boy with gorgeous puppy eyes, but what about you?" She said tilting her head, her eyes sharpening again. "I hope you're not into broody types who wear too much leather? Guys like that could be kind of dangerous, always watching..."
Watching? Someone was watching her?
Evelyn had finished to close the ribbon around the bouquet, but she didn't answer to Kate. "Twenty dollars," she said handing the flowers to the woman.
Kate didn't break eye contact as she reached into her purse. She took her time, fingers gliding over the leather interior as if she had all the patience in the world. Then she pulled out a bill and laid it flat on the counter.
Evelyn didn't say anything, she just reached out to take it and pull it in the register.
Kate lifted the bouquet and inhaled deeply, eyes closing for a second as though she were savoring something far more complex than camellias. When she opened them again, they were bright.
"Thank you for the recommendation," Kate said pleasantly.
Evelyn forced a polite smile. "We girls have strategies." Kate laughed softly at that. Then she tilted her head slightly, studying Evelyn one last time, not like a customer appraising a florist, but like a hunter memorizing terrain.
"We'll see each other again, Evelyn." She said before walk toward the door. She paused just before stepping out, turning slightly over her shoulder. The late afternoon light framed her silhouette, the uneasy feeling creeping back inside Evelyn's chest.
"And be careful to bad boys."
The door opened. The bell chimed once more. And then she was gone.
For a few seconds, Evelyn didn't move. The shop felt quieter than before, the air heavier, as if something had been displaced.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously against the wooden edge of the counter. Her mind replayed the conversation in fragments: the mention of Allison, the mountain lions, the leather jackets, the watching.
What was Kate talking bout? The Alpha? But why would the Alpha watch her?
Her gaze drifted toward the shop window, half-expecting to see someone standing across the street, observing. There was no one.
Or at least, no one that she could see.
Shivers ran down her spine as her fingers find the bottle of ashwood around her neck.