The human monster of teen wolf

I led them both down to my basement, and as soon as we stepped inside, their reactions were immediate.

"Wow," Stiles said, his eyes darting around the spacious, well-equipped gym. "Are you, like, secretly rich or something?"

"Yes, I am," I replied with a small smirk, keeping it simple.

Scott looked around, still processing everything. "This is... amazing. You train here?"

"Every day," I said. "Now, Scott, the key to controlling your werewolf side is finding an anchor."

Scott frowned, clearly confused. "Why would I need an anchor? I don't even have a boat."

I couldn't help but laugh at his literal interpretation. "Not that kind of anchor, Scott. I mean metaphorically. An anchor is someone or something that keeps you grounded—something that connects you to your human side. It could be your mom, your best friend, your girlfriend... anyone who gives you a reason to stay in control."

Scott nodded slowly, the gears in his head turning, while Stiles chimed in, "So, like, emotional superglue?"

"Exactly," I said, pointing at him. "Now that you get the concept, we can start."

I gestured toward the sparring ring in the corner of the gym. "Scott, get in the ring."

"What? No way," Scott said, shaking his head, worry etched on his face. "What if I hurt you?"

I chuckled, crossing my arms. "Scott, trust me—unless you've joined a pack of Alphas overnight, you're not going to beat me."

Stiles snickered. "Oh, I have got to see this."

Scott hesitated but eventually stepped into the ring. I climbed in after him, rolling my shoulders to loosen up. "This isn't about winning or losing, Scott. This is about control. Your instincts will want to take over, but you need to stay focused. Remember your anchor."

He nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. "Okay. Let's do this."

Stiles leaned against the ropes, his excitement barely contained. "This is going to be good."

And with that, we began.

I stepped into my boxing stance, my feet light on the ground, and began throwing quick jabs at Scott. I made sure to hold back, careful not to use enough force to break any bones—just enough to leave bruises. Scott tried to counterattack, but to me, his movements were sluggish and easy to predict.

I danced around him, never staying in one place too long, deliberately frustrating him. I was trying to push him to his limits, to make him angry enough to lose control.

For two minutes, we kept at it. Then, it happened. His eyes started glowing, his nails extended into claws, and his teeth sharpened into fangs. With a snarl, he lunged at me like a wild animal.

I dodged effortlessly, weaving out of his reach, and kept talking to him, my tone firm but calm.

"Find your anchor, Scott," I said, my voice cutting through his growls.

Scott didn't respond, his werewolf instincts still in control. Behind us, Stiles had wisely stepped back, giving us space as the fight continued.

For another minute, Scott lashed out, but my words were slowly sinking in. I could see the conflict in his glowing eyes. Finally, he stopped, doubling over as he caught his breath, his claws retracting and his features returning to normal.

His breathing was heavy, and bruises covered his arms and torso, but his wounds were already starting to heal.

"Who is your anchor?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"It's Allison," he said, still trying to catch his breath.

I nodded. "Good. Hold onto that. Whenever you feel your werewolf side taking over, think of her. Focus on her. She'll keep you grounded."

Scott gave me a weak nod, and I could see a spark of understanding in his eyes. He was starting to get it.

After that, I let them go. Stiles helped Scott out of the basement, still muttering about how insane the whole thing was. I stayed behind, tidying up and reflecting on the night. It was progress. Small, but progress nonetheless.

Scott pov

After the training with Kai, I collapsed onto my bed, my body still aching from the hits he landed. My muscles throbbed, and my mind was racing with everything I'd learned.

"Is he even human?" I muttered to myself, wincing as I shifted to get more comfortable.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. My mom peeked in, her face a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, stepping closer.

"Yeah, I just overdid it at practice today," I said, forcing a small smile.

"Well, don't overdo it too much. I want to see you play on Saturday," she said, smiling warmly.

"Mom, you can't," I said, knowing how tight money was.

"I can and I will. One shift isn't going to break us completely," she replied, her voice quieter on the last part, almost like she was trying to convince herself.

I started to respond, but she suddenly narrowed her eyes, looking closely at me.

"Hey, what's wrong with your eyes?" she asked, her tone shifting to concern.

My heart raced as I panicked internally.

"It looks like you haven't slept in days," she said after a moment.

I sighed in relief. "It's nothing. I'm just stressed."

"Just stressed? Nothing else? I mean, it's not like you're on drugs or anything, right?" she asked, half-joking but with an edge of seriousness.

"Right, now," I said quickly.

"'Right now'? I'm sorry, what do you mean by 'right now'? Have you ever taken drugs?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Have you?" I shot back, trying to deflect.

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, suddenly flustered. "Well... uh, get some sleep," she muttered before making a hasty retreat.

I sighed, lying back down, but the ringing of my computer pulled me back up. I opened it to see Stiles on the other end, holding a toy gun and pretending to shoot at the screen.

"What'd you find out?" I asked, trying to ignore the lingering soreness in my body.

"Well, it's bad. Jackson's got a separated shoulder," Stiles said with a grimace.

"Because of me," I said, guilt hitting me like a ton of bricks.

"Because he's a tool," Stiles corrected, trying to lighten the mood.

"But is he going to play?" I asked.

"They don't know yet," he replied, shrugging.

I sighed again. "What do you think of Kai?"

"He's definitely hiding something. Like, how does he know so much about werewolves?" Stiles said, leaning closer to his screen.

"But he helped me control myself," I said, trying to defend Kai.

"Yeah, but the way he moves and fights? That's not normal. Are you sure he's not supernatural?" Stiles asked, his curiosity obvious.

"He told me he's human but different. He said he was just born that way," I explained.

"Still don't trust him completely," Stiles muttered.

"Yeah, but he's the best option we've got right now. He saved me," I said firmly.

Stiles' face grew serious, but before he could respond, his screen froze. A text popped up on my computer: It froze again.

I started typing back when the screen suddenly unfroze, and I saw Stiles' face pale.

"It looks like someone's behind you," he said.

I froze, then turned slowly. Before I could react, Derek lunged at me, grabbing me and slamming me face-first into the wall. His grip on the back of my neck was iron-tight, and I couldn't move.

"I saw you on the field," he said in a low, menacing tone.

"What are you talking about?" I stammered, wincing from the pain.

"You shifted in front of them. If they find out what you are, they'll find out about me—about all of us. And then it's not just the hunters after us; it's everyone," he growled.

"I can control it now!" I said quickly, trying to catch my breath.

"What?" Derek said, his tone shifting to confusion.

"I can control it now. Kai—my friend—he taught me how," I explained.

I went on to tell him everything: the training, the fight, and even what happened in the woods the night we first met. Derek didn't say a word. He just released me, gave me a long, unreadable look, and walked out without another word.

I stood there for a moment, still catching my breath, before slumping against the wall.

This life wasn't going to get any easier, was it?