chapter thirty two

                                    

                                          



✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 3.08 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
"what? I'm a siren not a psychic?"
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flashback
Derek Hale could feel his heart in his head, he'd been running for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes. The woods were almost as homely as his house yet he felt lost as he ran from the hunters that had been tailing him. The Argent family had been causing the Hale family a lot of problems as of late. Their hunter nature couldn't quite be tamed. Despite the fact it had been made clear the Hale family were no threat, the Argents didn't care. In their eyes it was their job to rid the world of werewolves - threat or not. 
Derek was almost to his favourite hiding spot when he crashed into what felt like a brick wall, sending him flying to the ground, knocking the air out of his already tiring lungs. Looking up he was met with the glowing yellow eyes of a teenage boy, around his age. Derek's own eyes glowed back in response. 
"You're a Hale, aren't you?" The young man asked tentatively. Before Derek could respond, an arrow pierced the neck of the boy, his mouth dropping in shock as blood dribbled out of the strangers mouth. Derek fell back in horror as he watched the life drain out of the young soul in front of him, his golden eyes fading as he took his last breath shakily. In his shock, Derek heard a click as a Hunter reloaded their weapon. 
Spinning on his heel, he turned to face the Hunter coming out of the treeline, weapon raised, pointed right at him. At fifteen years old, Derek Hale believed his life was going to end as a crossbow pointed right at his heart. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Derek heard the trigger click as the arrow flew right at him. 
But he didn't die. He didn't even get hit. For Peter Hale showed up in the nick of time and caught the arrow, inches away from Derek's chest, a hard glare on his face as he stared down the hunter with all the anger he could muster as his eyes glowed and he bared his fangs. 
The Hunter remained unfazed as he dropped the crossbow and a gun appeared almost instantly in his hand, poised high and ready to shoot. Peter grabbed Derek, who was still dazed, dragging him into the darkness with haste as gunfire echoed amongst the trees. 
Black boots kicked up leaves and dust as more Hunters entered the clearing, surrounding the body of the man on the floor, looking down in disgust. Gerard Argent barely glanced before spitting on the ground at the man's feet, turning to his son. 
"Chris, is this the one?" He asked, bored, he wanted a real fight. 
Chris Argent nodded, glumly, "Killed two of ours." Argent turned to the group of Hunters gathered round the body. "Find the others. Bring them back alive." He was about to turn away when he noticed one of the Hunters sneering at the order. "Alive." He reiterated. "We go by the code." 
The night wind carried his order up into the branches of the trees as the Hunters fanned out, their flashlights covering almost everything in the wooded area. Everything except a hidden alcove, covered by branches and leaves, concealing glowing golden hues and laboured breaths. 
Behind the branches hid a dirt-covered stairwell, leading to an old root cellar which had long since been overtaken by unchecked growth. Shouts and heavy footsteps echoed off the walls as Peter held a terrified Derek in his arms, holding him still as he muffled their panting, desperately trying to conceal them. They had to live. That was all that mattered.  


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current day