Teen Wolf: Savage Roots
Chapter 11 — Father and Son
The rain had finally stopped over Beacon Hills.
For the first time in days, things felt almost normal.
Almost.
---
Inside the Sheriff's Station, papers covered an entire wall.
Photos.
Maps.
Names.
Victims.
Missing people.
And in the center of everything—
The symbol.
🔘
The same mark found in the tunnel.
The same mark found on Lydia's walls.
The same mark appearing across multiple crime scenes.
---
Stiles Stilinski stood in front of the evidence board, arms crossed.
Thinking.
Analyzing.
Connecting dots.
The way he always did.
A cup of cold coffee sat forgotten beside him.
Three hours old.
Untouched.
---
The office door opened.
Noah Stilinski walked in carrying a stack of reports.
He looked at the coffee.
Then at his son.
Then back at the coffee.
"You know that thing is older than some college students."
Stiles didn't look away from the board.
"I'm conducting science."
"You're conducting food poisoning."
---
Stiles smirked.
Noah placed the reports on the desk.
"Anything?"
Stiles sighed.
"Nothing that makes sense."
The Sheriff nodded.
"Good."
Stiles blinked.
"What?"
Noah shrugged.
"When things make sense around here, I get nervous."
---
For a moment both laughed.
It felt good.
Normal.
Father and son.
Just like old times.
---
Then Noah became serious.
"We got another lead."
Stiles turned.
The Sheriff handed him a file.
"Illegal gambling operation."
Stiles opened it.
Pictures.
Money.
Names.
Locations.
His expression hardened.
Then he saw another photo.
And froze.
A small packet.
White powder.
---
"Drugs?"
Noah nodded.
"Lots of them."
Stiles immediately became focused.
"Distribution?"
"Looks like it."
"Human trafficking?"
"Possibly."
"Money laundering?"
"Definitely."
Noah raised an eyebrow.
Stiles smiled.
"I've watched documentaries."
---
Two hours later.
An abandoned warehouse sat at the edge of town.
Lights glowed through broken windows.
Cars filled the parking lot.
Music echoed inside.
---
Stiles and Noah watched from an unmarked vehicle.
The Sheriff adjusted binoculars.
"You sure about this?"
Stiles nodded.
"Very."
Noah looked suspicious.
"How?"
Stiles pointed.
"See that guy?"
"Yeah."
"See the tattoo?"
"Yeah."
"See the car?"
"Yeah."
"See the fake security?"
"...Yeah."
Stiles grinned.
"They're guilty."
Noah stared at him.
"That's your evidence?"
"It's really good evidence."
---
The Sheriff sighed.
"Sometimes I wonder how you survived childhood."
Stiles pointed at himself proudly.
"Natural talent."
"You got trapped in a refrigerator once."
"That was one time."
"It was three times."
---
Before Stiles could defend himself—
A truck arrived.
Both immediately became serious.
Several men stepped out.
Carrying boxes.
Heavy boxes.
The kind criminals don't want police opening.
---
Stiles watched carefully.
Then something clicked.
His eyes widened.
"No way."
"What?"
Stiles pointed.
"Look at the license plate."
Noah looked.
Then back at Stiles.
"What about it?"
"It's from one of the towns where bodies were found."
The Sheriff froze.
The joking stopped instantly.
---
Now they were onto something.
---
Inside the warehouse—
Money changed hands.
Drugs were distributed.
Deals were made.
But Stiles wasn't looking at any of that.
He was looking at faces.
Memorizing.
Studying.
Searching.
---
Then he saw it.
A man standing near the back.
Tall.
Black jacket.
Scar on his neck.
And on his wrist—
The symbol.
🔘
---
Stiles' heart stopped.
"Dad."
Noah immediately heard the change in his voice.
"What?"
Stiles pointed carefully.
"Three o'clock."
The Sheriff slowly looked.
His expression darkened.
---
"You see it?"
Noah nodded.
"Yeah."
---
The symbol.
Again.
Always the symbol.
---
Suddenly the investigation wasn't about drugs anymore.
Or gambling.
Or money.
It connected.
Somehow.
It all connected.
---
Later that night.
The Sheriff led a raid.
Police vehicles surrounded the warehouse.
Lights flashed.
Officers moved in.
---
"SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT!"
"GET ON THE GROUND!"
Chaos erupted.
Criminals ran.
Officers chased.
People screamed.
---
And right in the middle of it—
The man with the symbol smiled.
Not nervous.
Not scared.
Smiled.
---
Then he reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a small black crystal.
And crushed it.
---
The lights exploded.
Darkness swallowed the warehouse.
For three seconds—
Nobody could see anything.
---
Then the lights returned.
---
The man was gone.
Vanished.
Like he never existed.
---
Hours later.
Back at the station.
Stiles stared at the evidence board.
The symbol.
The bodies.
The drugs.
The gambling operation.
The black crystal.
Everything connected.
He just couldn't see how.
Yet.
---
Noah walked beside him.
"You'll figure it out."
Stiles laughed softly.
"You always say that."
The Sheriff smiled.
"Because you usually do."
---
For the first time all chapter, Stiles looked uncertain.
Not scared.
Just thoughtful.
Because something about this case bothered him.
More than the murders.
More than the symbol.
More than the god.
---
Someone was building something.
Organizing.
Planning.
Preparing.
---
And whatever it was—
It had already begun.
Far away, in the darkness beyond worlds, something watched the father and son investigation with amusement.
The game board was growing larger.
And for the first time, Stiles Stilinski was finally stepping into the center of the mystery. 🐺