Teen Hybrid

Rain lashed the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic, turning the parking lot into a murky swamp. Scott fumbled with his keys, hands trembling as he unlocked the back door. Vale hovered behind him, shoulders tense, eyes scanning the storm.

"Dr. Deaton's out of town," Scott muttered, flicking on the lights. The sterile white walls and stainless steel exam tables glinted under the fluorescents. "I'm just here to feed the dogs tonight."

"And bleed all over the floor?" Vale nodded at Scott's side, where blood soaked through his hoodie.

"Shut up."

Vale shoved him toward an exam table. "Shirt off. Now."

Scott obeyed, wincing as he peeled the fabric away from the jagged bite. Vale rummaged through cabinets, tossing gauze, antiseptic, and a suture kit onto a tray.

"You ever done this before?" Scott asked, eyeing the needle.

"Enough times." Vale doused a cloth in antiseptic. "Hold still."

Scott hissed as Vale cleaned the wound, the clinic's silence broken only by the drumming rain and the occasional whine from the kennels. The bite was deep—four punctures, the flesh around them already bruising.

"This wasn't a dog," Vale said quietly.

"I know."

"Then stop lying to yourself."

Vale worked methodically, stitching the torn flesh with steady hands. Scott gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. When it was done, Vale tossed the bloody gauze into a biohazard bin and handed Scott a clean shirt from Deaton's lost-and-found.

"Burn that hoodie," Vale said.

Scott nodded, pulling the shirt on. "Thanks."

Outside, thunder growled.

Vale froze mid-step, nostrils flaring. Beneath the storm's rumbling, something else—a low, guttural snarl vibrating through the rain.

"What?" Scott tensed.

"Stay here." Vale grabbed a flashlight from the counter. "Lock the door."

"Vale, don't—"

But Vale was already gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Rain needled Vale's face as he circled the clinic, flashlight beam slicing through the dark. The snarl had come from the tree line, but now there was only the hiss of wind and the creak of soaked branches.

He crouched, fingertips brushing the mud. Claw marks—deep, uneven, *massive*—led toward the woods.

*Not wolf. Not bear. Something… wrong.*

The scent here was overwhelming: iron, rot, and beneath it, the sharp tang of something sour and sweet.

Vale stood, staring into the black. The gray screen flickered:

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Valentine Aedan Feilan

Alias: 'Vale'

Status: Aggressive, Territorial

Strength: 15

Mind: 3.2

Magical Affinity: 3.1

Bloodline: ??/??

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

*I really gotta adress how wierdly specific my nose is smelling things…*

A twig snapped.

Vale spun around to a deeper part of the forest.

Glowing red eyes blinked in the distance—then vanished.

---

Headlights cut through the rain as a black SUV skidded into the clinic's parking lot. Allison Argent clutched the steering wheel, her knuckles white. A small, shivering dog whimpered in the passenger seat, its fur matted with mud and blood.

"It's okay," she whispered, more to herself than the dog. "It's okay, it's okay—"

She grabbed the dog and bolted for the clinic, rain soaking through her leather jacket. The door was unlocked.

"Hello?!" she called, stumbling inside. "Is anyone here?!"

Scott froze mid-step, a bag of dog food in his hands. "Allison?!"

"Scott?!" Her eyes widened. "What are you—?"

"I work here! Part-time!" He gestured to the kennels, where a dozen dogs barked at the storm. "Feeding the dogs. What… what happened?"

Allison held up the shivering animal. "I—I hit him. I didn't see him in the rain. Is Dr. Deaton here?"

"No, but I can help." Scott took the dog gently, his hands steady now. "Let's get him warmed up."

Scott laid the dog on the exam table, its whines softening as Allison stroked its head.

"You're okay," she murmured. "You're okay."

Scott grabbed a towel from a shelf, handing it to her. "For you. You're soaked."

Allison blinked, rainwater dripping from her curls. "Thanks."

She dabbed her face, watching as Scott checked the dog's leg. His hands moved with surprising confidence, cleaning the wound and wrapping it in a bandage.

"You're good at this," she said softly.

"Three years of cleaning kennels." He shrugged. "You learn things."

"No, I mean… you're calm. Like you've done this forever."

Scott's ears burned. "I… I like animals. They're easier than people."

Allison smiled, tucking a damp curl behind her ear. "Same."

Outside, thunder cracked. The lights flickered.

"You should get out of that jacket," Scott said suddenly. "Before you catch a cold."

Allison hesitated, then peeled off her soaked leather jacket. Scott handed her an oversized clinic hoodie with "Beacon Hills Animal Rescue" printed across the chest.

"Fashionable," she teased, pulling it on.

Scott grinned. "You're welcome."

The dog nuzzled Allison's hand, its tail thumping weakly.

"He'll be okay," Scott said. "Just needs rest."

Allison's smile faltered. "Thanks. For not… judging me."

"For hitting a dog in a storm? Not your fault."

Their eyes met. The clinic's hum faded to silence.

Vale slipped back into the clinic, soaked and scowling. Scott and Allison jumped apart, the moment shattered.

"Who's this?" Vale asked, dripping rainwater onto the tiles.

"Allison. She, uh… hit a dog." Scott gestured to the sleeping animal.

Vale raised an eyebrow. "And you're giving her fashion advice?"

Allison flushed, tugging the oversized hoodie tighter. "I should go. Thank you, Scott. For everything."

"Wait—the storm's still bad. Let me drive you."

"I'm okay. Really." She scooped up her damp jacket and hurried out, the door swinging shut behind her.

Scott stared after her, the clinic suddenly too quiet.

"You're staring," Vale said.

"Shut up."

Deep in the preserve, the beast paced, rain sliding off its matted fur. The boy's scent—*weak, bitten*—drifted through the storm. But the other one…

The one who'd fought back.

His scent was foreign. Thick with pine resin and iron-rich blood, like the heart of a forest. Not wolf. Not coyote. Something the alpha had never encountered.

*Dangerous.*

But intriguing.

The beast snarled once, low and warning, before melting into the trees.

Vale drove Scott home in silence, the Camaro's wipers fighting the deluge. Scott stared at his reflection in the window, the bite already fading to a scar.

"What happens now?" he asked quietly.

Vale tightened his grip on the wheel. "You tell me."

The storm raged on