𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞 ➴ 𝐋𝐲𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐌

The faint scrape of pencil against paper filled Skylar's room, though she barely noticed the grating sound. Her focus was elsewhere, caught in the melody flowing through her headphones. Music had always been her safe place, her escape hatch from reality. People never understood her, not really. At school, she blended into the background, just another face in the hall, and she liked it that way. But music didn't look at her, didn't judge, didn't ask her to speak. It just accepted her. To Skylar, every note was a guide, teaching her restless thoughts how to move, how to settle, how to breathe. She once told her dad it filled the air without effort. To her, it was medicine delivered in the sweetest way.

Her pen pressed harder into the sketchbook, tracing the faint outlines she'd already made, when a knock pulled her from her trance. At first, she thought she imagined it, just a trick of the song. Pulling one earbud out, she waited... silence. With a small frown, she slipped it back in, only for the knock to come again, sharper this time.

"Of course," she muttered, dropping the sketchbook onto her bed. Groaning, she pushed herself up, bare feet recoiling against the cold laminate floor.

When she swung open her door, there he was. Stiles. Standing in the hall like the human version of an exclamation point, a grin plastered across his face.

"Dude, you actually knocked for once," Skylar said with a laugh, though it came out edged with mockery. Sarcasm was easier than admitting she was glad he came to her first.

Stiles rolled his eyes like it was a full-body workout "Get ready, we're going to Scott's."

Skylar arched a brow, glancing at the moonlight spilling through her window. "Oh, of course we are. Midnight? Totally the ideal time to hang out. Who needs sleep when we can trespass on Scott McCall's house like the two most suspicious-looking twins in Beacon Hills?"

Skylar's brows pulled together, her gaze flicking toward the window where moonlight spilled across her room. Of course. It was just like Stiles to think midnight was the perfect time to drop everything and go. He dragged her into chaos, and she followed even when she pretended not to want to. Especially when she pretended not to want to. Still, she didn't complain. For him, she rarely did. Whatever chaos her brother had gotten himself into, it wasn't the first night she'd been dragged out under the cover of darkness and it wouldn't be the last.

Skylar didn't waste time getting ready. She shoved on the first clothes she could grab, an oversized Nike hoodie and a pair of black ripped jeans. Hardly glamorous, but then again, midnight field trips with her brother rarely required a dress code.

The Jeep rattled down the empty streets, headlights slicing through the dark. Stiles gripped the wheel like it might fly away from him if he let go, muttering half-formed theories under his breath. Skylar didn't bother to ask. With Stiles, the less you interrupted his spirals, the quicker he got to the point.

Instead, she flicked on the radio, leaning her head against the cold glass of the window. Music hummed in the background while Beacon Hills blurred by. She liked the way the world looked at night, quieter, emptier. Like no one was watching. That was rare for her. At school, people didn't exactly look at her, but she always felt like they were waiting for something. To talk. To explain herself. To be more like Stiles. And she never was.

The Jeep screeched to a stop outside Scott McCall's house. Before she could ask what the hell this was about, Stiles bolted from the car and headed straight for the front door. Skylar stayed put, drumming her fingers against her knee, irritation simmering. Her brother had a habit of dragging her into things, and she had an even worse habit of letting him.

After a few minutes of silence, her patience snapped. She pushed the door open and stepped into the night air, crossing her arms as she eyed the dark house. No lights. No movement. Her frown deepened. 'Great. Midnight break-ins. Totally normal twin bonding activity.'

No sign of Stiles.

She stepped back outside and followed the side of the house, where the shadows pressed heavier, colder. Rounding the corner, she froze and then smirked.

Stiles was dangling from the roof like a badly written cartoon character, legs kicking, face red. And then the porch door creaked open.

Scott McCall stepped out slowly, bat in hand.

The two boys locked eyes and immediately screamed like children in a haunted house. Scott nearly dropped the bat, Stiles nearly dropped himself, and Skylar nearly dropped to her knees laughing. She clamped a hand over her mouth, crouched in the shadows, her shoulders shaking.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?" Scott demanded, his pulse thundering loud enough she swore she could hear it.

"You weren't answering your phone!" Stiles hissed back, as if that was a perfectly logical explanation. His gaze darted to the bat. "Why are you holding a bat?"

Skylar finally stepped forward, her expression deadpan even as amusement flickered in her eyes. "He probably thought you were a predator."

Both boys screamed again, spinning toward her. Scott's face paled; Stiles' was comically horrified. That time, she couldn't hold it in her laugh slipped out, sharp and unrestrained.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. "I should've guessed you'd pop out at some point." His gaze flicked between the twins, like he wasn't sure which one was more unhinged.

Skylar only smirked. "Don't act like you're not glad I'm here. At least I make Stiles' midnight schemes slightly less embarrassing."

Scott didn't answer. Which, in her book, meant she was probably right.

"Look, I know it's late but you gotta hear this, I saw our dad leave 20 minutes ago." Stiles' words tumbled out fast, his breath uneven from a mix of excitement and nerves. "Dispatched called, they're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even state police."

Scott's brows pulled together, confusion flickering across his face. "For what?"

"Two joggers found a dead body in the woods." Untangling his legs from the porch railing, Stiles dropped to the ground with a grin that was far too bright for someone delivering news about a corpse.

"A dead body?" Scott's voice shot up in pitch, horror written all over his expression.

Skylar leaned against the porch post, rolling her eyes almost before the words left his mouth. Of course Scott would state the obvious. Her tone dripped with sarcasm as she muttered, "No, a body of water."

Stiles immediately latched onto her dry delivery, smirking. "Yes, dumbass a dead body." Their laughter overlapped, sharp and amused, while Scott just stared at them, unimpressed.

The tan boy shook his head, lips pressed in a thin line. He never understood how the twins could laugh in situations like this. They weren't identical, not technically, but moments like these blurred the difference. For everyone else, it was obvious they were siblings; for their dad, they might as well have been the same person.

"You mean like murdered?" Scott asked, still trying to piece together the situation. His eyebrows pinched as though the thought itself didn't sit right with him.

A long sigh slipped from Stiles, exasperation tugging at his words. "Nobody knows yet, just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties."

Scott's confusion only deepened. "Hold on, if they found the body, then what are they looking for?"

Skylar arched a brow, her gaze flicking between the two boys. Scott's question echoed in her own thoughts, though she wasn't about to admit it. Instead, she let sarcasm mask her curiosity. "Yeah, Stiles. What are they looking for?"

"That's the best part." Excitement sparked in Stiles' eyes as his grin widened, like he'd been waiting all night for this moment. "They only found half." He practically vibrated with energy, the words bursting out of him. "We're going."

Skylar Stilinski always thought she was the crazier one out of the two, the twin who wouldn't take shit from anyone. She could hold her own, and she liked it that way. In this moment, you'd think Stiles was the crazier one.

The jeep slowed to a stop near the Beacon Hills Preserve. Cold air seeped through the slightly cracked windows, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. A part of her ached to still be in her warm bed, headphones in, music drowning out reality. Instead, she found herself wedged in the back seat of Stiles' jeep, staring out at the dark woods, hoping she wouldn't regret what came next. Half a dead body, according to Stiles. Of course. She should've guessed. This whole operation was a result of her brother eavesdropping on their dad's phone calls, no filter, no boundaries, just impulsive chaos.

The three of them stepped out, the forest floor crunching under their shoes. Scott stopped mid-step. "We're seriously doing this?"

Skylar smirked, the corners of her mouth twitching with dry amusement. "Aw, are you scared, Scotty? Do you want me to hold your hand?"

A snort came from her side, pulling her gaze toward Stiles. Brown eyes met hers, and she couldn't resist a jab.

"And you, baldy. I bet you're just as scared." The nickname slipped out naturally, years of habit making it feel like a shield she could wield.

"Shut up, Sky. You're the one always bitching that nothing happens in this town."

A laugh escaped her, quick and dry, a spark of shared history and sarcasm. Nodding, she shrugged. "I stand by my words." Her fingers fished her phone from her pocket, flicking on the torch. Light cut through the darkness, slicing shadows across the trees.

Midnight was hers in theory, but the thought of chasing half a dead body through the woods wasn't exactly comforting. Warm bed. Music. Sleep. That's what she really wanted.

“I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow..." Scott muttered, oblivious to the irony.

"Right, 'cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort," Stiles shot back, voice thick with sarcasm. Skylar lightly smacked his arm, eliciting a groan that made her lips twitch upward.

Scott rolled his eyes. "I'm making first line."

Her twin laughed, the sound loud and infectious. "Hey, that's the spirit. Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one."

Biting her lip to stifle her own laugh, Skylar's eyes flicked to her brother. He couldn't throw straight. He couldn't catch straight. And yet, here they were chasing half a corpse in the woods while pretending they had some semblance of competence.

"Just out of curiosity, brother. Which part of the body are we looking for?" The question came out with mock seriousness, but beneath it, a small knot of unease twisted in her chest.

"Huh." Stiles paused, expression blank for a moment before his eyes widened slightly. "I didn't even think about that."

Skylar sighed, rolling her eyes. Of course. Planning wasn't exactly Stiles' strong suit. Spontaneous ideas were his signature, impulsive to the point of insanity. Even so, she couldn't shake the lingering thought at the back of her mind, what if this time spontaneity went too far?

"And, uh... what if whoever killed the body is still out there?" Scott's voice wavered, brown eyes scanning the shadows of the forest. Moonlight trickled through the branches, barely enough to illuminate the path ahead. Every rustle of leaves made his chest tighten, his asthma itching at the edges of panic.

"Also something I didn't think about." Stiles muttered under his breath, shrugging off the worry with his usual forced nonchalance.

Skylar watched him, raising an eyebrow. He got out of the Jeep and began to stride ahead, breath coming in uneven bursts. "It's comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail," she teased, voice dripping with sarcasm, but her eyes betrayed the tiny edge of worry she felt for both her friends.

"I know," Stiles replied without looking back, grin faint but faltering.

Her attention snapped back to Scott, whose breathing had slowed but was still uneven. The sound of his wheezing made Skylar pause. She crouched slightly, hand hovering near his shoulder as her concern crept to the surface. "Are you okay, Scotty?"

"Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the torch, huh?" He leaned against the nearest tree, shaking the inhaler violently in his palm. The bark dug into his fingers, his knuckles whitening as he tried to calm his panic.

Skylar's chest tightened. Midnight. Half a corpse. Woods. And now the fear in Scott's eyes. Her sarcasm softened to worry as she crouched beside him, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Don't panic. Don't make it worse. Keep him steady.

Footsteps tore through the quiet, crunching over leaves like jagged drums. Skylar froze, eyes narrowing in the direction of the noise. Whoever-or whatever-was approaching, they weren't part of the plan. It grew louder. Then she caught the unmistakable glint of flashlights: the local police. Their father's team.

Stiles dove to the ground, yanking her down with him. The sudden motion jolted her, and she stifled a gasp. Torch off. Silent. They crouched low, pressed against the earth as adrenaline surged through her. He grabbed her hand, yanking her to her feet again and dragging her back into the shadows.

"For the love of God, Stiles. Will you stop dragging me?" Skylar hissed, whispering the words as her pulse spiked. Her eyes darted around, half expecting the killer, or the corpse itself, to spring out from the underbrush.

Stiles pressed a finger to her lips, shushing her as they crept through the trees. Every snap of a branch underfoot made her heart hitch, but she kept her voice low, keeping pace with him. The tension in his posture mirrored her own cautious anticipation.

"Wait up, Sky, Stiles." Scott's voice trembled slightly. Skylar stepped beside him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Take your inhaler and use it now!" She demanded, a rare firmness entering her tone. Protectiveness overrode her usual sarcasm; the woods didn't scare her nearly as much as losing control over her best friend.

Scott's fingers fumbled with the inhaler, shaking hands finally bringing relief as he drew in the medicine. Relief rippled through her chest, though it did little to settle the buzzing tension in her own body.

A sudden bark pierced the air. Police dogs, nearby and alert, made her flinch, crouching instinctively as Stiles dropped to the ground, dragging her behind him. The flash of a flashlight hit his face, panic written across his features.

"Hold it right there!" a voice barked.

"Hang on, hang on... This little delinquent belongs to me," the sheriff said, stepping into view with a disappointed frown.

Skylar stayed pressed behind a tree, silent as a shadow. Her chest rose and fell in quick bursts, hands balled into fists as she watched her father take control of the situation.

"Dad, how are you doing?" She whispered, almost rolling her eyes at Stiles' flippant response.

Noah shook his head, the weight of authority heavy in the forest air. "So do you listen in on all the conversations?"

"No," Stiles replied bluntly, eyes darting toward the shadows where she hid. "Not the boring ones."

Skylar's lips pressed together as her thoughts churned. Typical Stiles. Always exaggerating. Always putting himself first. But at least he's smart enough to cover for me.

"Now where's your usual partner in crimes? Your sister better be at home in her bed."

"Who, Scott? He's at home, he wanted to get a good night's sleep for the first day back at school tomorrow," Stiles explained, eyes flicking toward the trees where she crouched. Apologetic? Maybe. Careful? Definitely. "And, Skylar, well, you know how she is, Dad. She's probably at home listening to her music and drawing, blocking everybody out."

Skylar's jaw tightened, a faint pang of guilt mixing with amusement at his words. Not completely wrong, she admitted internally, though the shadowed woods made her feel far more visible than she ever wanted to be.

"It's just me, in the woods, alone." Stiles added, his voice low and carefully controlled, hoping the lie would stick. Skylar's hand brushed against a tree trunk, grounding herself.

The sheriff, however, knew his son was lying. There was no way Stiles would be out in the woods alone, chasing a half-dead body. Not when the twins never did anything by themselves. He didn't need proof, the way Stiles glanced toward the shadows, scanning for her, and the faint echo of rustling leaves betrayed it. If Stiles had said he was going to do this without Skylar, she would have been the first to drag him back, yelling a stream of sarcastic complaints the entire way.

"Sky, Scott, you out there?" The flashlight cut through the darkness, swinging back and forth in precise arcs. "Skylar, Scott?"

Skylar ducked lower behind the tree, torch clutched tightly in her hand. Her pulse hammered against her ribs, a mixture of adrenaline, annoyance, and faint relief. Of course Dad would show up exactly when things were about to get interesting, she thought, lips pressed into a thin line as she watched his figure move through the forest.

"Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car." The sheriff's voice carried through the night, firm and unmistakably disappointed. He stepped toward Stiles, guiding him gently but assertively back toward the Jeep. "You and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy."

Skylar let out a soft exhale, trying to mask a smirk. Even from her hiding spot, she could see the mix of guilt and defiance flickering across her brother's face. Classic Stiles. Always thinking he can talk his way out of trouble. Her dry humour bubbled up, but she held it back, knowing now wasn't the time to make a joke.

She lingered in the shadows, torch light bouncing off the underbrush, listening as her father corralled his son. For a brief moment, the tension eased, Scott leaned on his inhaler, Stiles grumbled under his father's watchful eye, and the forest returned to its quiet rhythm. But the adrenaline still hummed beneath Skylar's skin, a reminder that the night, the woods, and whatever horrors they had stumbled upon weren't over yet.

After being left alone in the woods by Stiles, Skylar and Scott began weaving through the dense trees, trying to find their way back home. A flicker of annoyance hit her at first, her brother had told their father he was alone, but she quickly pushed it aside. If he had admitted she was with him, the consequences would have been disastrous. And she couldn't let him get grounded. Not tonight.

The darkness pressed in from all sides, thick and suffocating. Bare branches clawed at the sky like skeletal fingers, the moonlight only occasionally breaking through to glint off the leaves. Skylar's eyes darted around, analyzing every detail, every shadow. Rustling bushes whispered threats; crickets chirped like nervous little metronomes. She couldn't see far, and the uncertainty gnawed at her. Somewhere out there, something waited. She could feel it in the way the air shifted, the way the forest seemed to hold its breath. Her muscles tensed, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

A sudden flutter of wings above made Scott gasp sharply. The birds took off as if chased by a predator, their panicked flapping sending a shiver down her spine. Skylar's chest tightened.

"Are you okay, Scotty?" Her voice was low, almost pleading.

"I'm okay, I just want to get out of here." The fear in his tone made her stomach twist.

Moments later, a herd of stags bolted past, hooves pounding on the forest floor, nearly tripping over one another in their rush. Their wide eyes and tense muscles screamed that they were running from something far more dangerous than Skylar or Scott could yet imagine. Her throat went dry. If the animals were scared, then she had every reason to be terrified.

Panic clawed at her chest. Her mind raced, imagining unseen predators, teeth glinting in the shadows, eyes reflecting the moonlight. She preferred animals to humans, always had, but if there was something here beyond the natural world, there would be no hiding from it.

Her eyes flicked to Scott, torch light trembling in his hands. He crouched, scanning the ground as if searching for something small and precious. Instinctively, she bent beside him, training her own light where he pointed. Maybe he was looking for his inhaler. Maybe he was just lost in panic. Either way, she needed to be there.

Then the torchlight caught it. The pale, lifeless top half of the body, lying against a tree, eyes wide open as if frozen in eternal horror. Skylar's breath hitched; a sharp, panicked intake that barely reached her lungs. Her heart slammed so hard she could hear it thumping in her ears, drowning out everything else, the crickets, the wind, even Scott's panicked breaths.

She stumbled backward, trying to put distance between herself and the corpse, but a twig betrayed her footing. Gravity claimed her, sending her tumbling down a small incline. Pain bloomed in her side, sharp and insistent, slowing her attempts to rise. A log became her lifeline, and she hauled herself upright, groaning at the ache radiating through her ribs.

"Scott? Can you hear me?" Her voice was louder now, cracking with fear, desperate not to be alone in the suffocating darkness.

Silence answered her. She exhaled, one hand pressed to her hip, the other gripping the torch tighter. The forest seemed to close in around her, alive with shadows and soundless threats.

A shape flicked at the edge of her vision. At first, she thought it was just an animal, perhaps a wolf, white and ghostlike against the darkness. Her lips curled in a small, nervous smile at the thought, a fleeting relief. That relief shattered when the creature shifted, opening its jaws to reveal teeth sharp enough to tear through flesh. A growl rumbled deep in its chest, wrenching and piercing, vibrating through her bones.

Skylar's breath caught in her throat. The wolf's eyes, usually warm brown in her imagination, blazed a terrifying, unnatural blue, glowing with a predatory intelligence that made every hair on her arms stand on end. Her body froze, adrenaline flooding her veins as fear, raw and all-consuming, took hold. Every instinct screamed: run, hide, survive.

The forest wasn't safe anymore. And neither of them, neither she nor Scott, was prepared for what was coming.

Terror washed over her in a cold, merciless wave. Every hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and her mouth ran dry as if the air itself had been sucked away. Heart hammering, lungs burning, Skylar felt the flight response ignite in her chest, adrenaline surging through her veins like fire. Every fiber of her being screamed to run.

Being chased brought out something primal, something raw. Fear that wasn't just in her mind, it owned her body. Pain became irrelevant; muscles strained beyond their limits, lungs screamed for oxygen, yet she pushed on. Each step was both agony and instinct, every movement dictated by the singular drive to survive.

Her stomach lurched violently as the forest blurred around her. Just when she dared to think she might escape, the wolf pounced. A scream tore from her throat as sharp teeth clamped onto her leg, dragging her across the rough ground. Instinctively, she kicked out, freeing her foot, her body twisting sideways to gain leverage. The wolf growled, a deep, bone-rattling sound that made her tremble uncontrollably. Sliding beside a fallen log, she gripped it like a lifeline, her knuckles white, every sense screaming danger.

Desperation flared. She swung her arm, a flailing attempt at defense, and pain exploded across her skin as the wolf's teeth sank into her wrist. A sharp, icy sting spread through her arm, goosebumps erupting across her skin. When she looked down, her blood mingled with the bite, but there was something strange, an almost faint blue tinge to the wound, like frost had kissed her skin, shimmering slightly under the moonlight. She blinked, confused, her fear warping into a strange, uneasy fascination. What... what is that?

The wolf released her instantly, and she collapsed onto the forest floor, trembling. Pain radiated cold and unyielding, yet the warmth of her own blood clashed with the strange frostiness of the bite. Every nerve screamed, her adrenaline spiking, heart hammering in her ears. The creature was gone, disappearing into the shadows like a phantom, leaving her shivering, half in shock, half in terror.

"Skylar, can you hear me?" A voice called out, distant but unmistakable.

She tried to stand, leveraging her left arm, but the icy sting pulsing through her wrist made it impossible. Falling back, she bit her lip hard, trying to focus on anything other than the excruciating cold pain. Slowly, she peeled off her torn jumper, revealing the frosty, blue-tinged bite in full. Her hand hovered over it, instinctively pressing against the strange chill that still seemed to creep through her veins.

"Scotty, listen to me, you have to run. There's some sort of wolf here with us. Please, be careful!" Her voice trembled, cracking, echoing through the darkness of the woods. Fear clawed at her as she tried to locate her best friend.

Then a scream, Scott's scream, pierced the night. Her stomach twisted, dread flooding every inch of her body. Whatever had attacked her had gotten to him, too. She clenched her jaw, focusing her mind, trying to assess paths and hiding spots, survival strategies, even as icy pain radiated from her wrist. I'm supposed to be tougher. I have to protect him.

A sudden car engine roared, tires screeching on gravel. Hope surged through her veins. Her legs pumped faster, pain forgotten in the adrenaline, muscles straining beyond exhaustion as she sprinted toward the sound.

"Scotty... oh thank God, you're okay." Relief washed over her in ragged breaths as she reached him, taking in the tan boy standing safely in the middle of the road. Yet her mind kept flicking back to the frost-blue bite on her wrist, a strange, cold reminder that the wolf, and whatever it truly was, was far from ordinary.

At the sight of his best friend, Scott let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, though the memories of the chase still made his chest tight. He tugged off his hoodie, noticing Skylar trembling in the cold night air, and offered it to her.

She accepted it gratefully, wrapping it around her shoulders in a rush, the warmth seeping into her chilled bones. For the first time since the wolf had attacked, she felt a flicker of safety. Her pulse was still racing, her arm still stinging faintly from the bite, its strange, icy blue hue pressing in her mind, though she didn't understand it. Her fingers absently brushed over it beneath the fabric of the hoodie, the cold lingering in her skin like a secret she couldn't quite name.

"Come on, Sky. Let's get you home before your dad leaves work and notices you missing."

The words grounded her, a tether back to the ordinary world. Relief mingled with fatigue and lingering fear, and for a moment, the adrenaline that had kept her moving ebbed, leaving her muscles heavy and sore.

The two walked down the road together, Scott's arm draped protectively around her shoulders. Skylar leaned into the warmth, eyes scanning the shadows of the forest one last time, muscles still taut and ready, instincts humming quietly beneath the surface. Her breaths came in shaky, uneven bursts, but a small, private relief curled inside her chest. She had survived. And for now, so had Scott.