Scott's room carries a familiar mix of comfort and chaos. Stiles is sprawled in the desk chair, his sneakers tapping lightly against the floor as he flips through a printout of the latest dead pool list, names and numbers highlighted in various colors. The desk lamp casts a faint glow over the scattered research papers, blending with the soft afternoon light streaming through the curtains. You sit cross-legged on Scott's bed, your presence a quiet anchor in the storm that constantly swirls around you both. Scott paces near the window, his jaw tight, hands repeatedly running through his hair as tension ripples across his shoulders, the weight of his Alpha responsibility heavy on him.

"Okay," Stiles finally breaks the silence, holding up a paper with several names crossed out. "I still don't get it. Why are they so hellbent on us? It's not just Scott anymore, it's everyone even remotely connected." He pauses for dramatic effect, pointing at the list. "And who the hell is the Benefactor?"

Scott’s pacing halts. He exhales sharply, his back to both Stiles and you, as if saying the words aloud might make them more real. "It's about the money," he says, turning to face you both, his voice low but steady. "A bounty on every supernatural creature in Beacon Hills. And it's growing." He gestures vaguely, searching for the right words, "It's not about power, or territory, it's just... greed."

Scott takes a seat beside you, his knee brushing yours. He looks down, his hand instinctively finding yours and linking your fingers together. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles, grounding himself in the moment. "But right now, being an Alpha doesn't matter as much as keeping everyone safe. After Allison... and Aiden..." His voice trails off, weighted with grief and renewed determination.

Stiles spins in the chair, the wheels squeaking faintly. "And let’s not forget Kate Argent is back from the dead as a freaking Werejaguar, making Berserkers, because why stop at a mysterious hit list when you can add ancient Aztec magic and bone-armored monsters to the mix?"

The hum of the ceiling fan fills the short silence that follows. Downstairs, Melissa's voice floats up faintly, calling out that she's heading to her hospital shift. Scott's grip on your hand tightens slightly, his jaw clenching at the memory of the dead pool and the constant threat.

"They want to pick us off one by one," Scott says after a moment, his voice quiet but brimming with anger. "That's how the Benefactor works. That's why we have to find out who it is. Before anyone else gets hurt." His eyes flick to you, worry and fierce protectiveness mixing in his gaze. "He thinks he can break us."

Stiles stands suddenly, stretching in an exaggerated motion as if to shake off the growing tension in the air. "And that's my cue to check on Derek," he says, grabbing his jacket from the chair and tossing it over his shoulder. "He's been... different. Losing his powers, then whatever that was in La Iglesia. Probably hitting peak brood levels trying to figure it out." He pauses at the door, pointing a finger at Scott. "Try not to do anything heroically stupid while I'm gone, okay? Just... chill. For once."

With a smirk, Stiles disappears down the stairs, leaving Scott and you alone in the growing quiet of the room. Scott turns to you, his expression softening as he studies your face. He gently squeezes your hand, his voice dropping to a vulnerable tone. "I know you hate being stuck here," he says, nodding toward the window, as if the world beyond it is mocking your confinement. "The dead pool... the constant threat..." He hesitates, his gaze locking with yours. "I can't lose you. Not to them. Not to all of this."

Scott's fingers linger on yours, his touch warm and steady despite the storm raging inside him. Outside, the golden light of the afternoon fades slightly, as if the world itself is bracing for what's to come.