Trevor was on his way to the Hale house — or rather, what was left of it, for only the burned-out frame remained, a blackened carcass in the middle of the forest, and strangely, he felt calm, because Scott had called earlier to say Derek had refused any kind of agreement, but it didn't change anything since Trevor hadn't expected him to accept easily, and he knew Derek would be there — he didn't have many other places to go.
As Trevor drew closer, he felt the familiar reaction of the Vampire Killer, a subtle vibration almost imperceptible to anyone else but unmistakable to him — a supernatural creature was nearby — and that only confirmed what he already knew. He walked until the house stood fully in view, the silence heavy with no birds and no noticeable wind, just the distant creak of old wood giving way under its own weight, until Trevor stopped a few yards from the entrance without stepping any farther and raised his voice, steady and firm.
"I'm here to see you, Derek. And I'm not leaving until we talk."
The silence stretched for several seconds before, from inside the house, came the reply. "What do you want?"
"To talk. About the alpha."
"I don't know anything about him."
"It's not about what you know. It's about what you can do."
A pause. "Why would I trust a hunter like you?"
"I'm not like the others. I come in peace."
The door creaked open, and Derek said, "Then come in." Trevor hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he stepped inside, and it was worse than he'd imagined — charred wood, walls stained with soot, the old scent of fire still clinging stubbornly to the structure — when a voice came from the left.
"It was hunters who did this."
Derek stood where the living room had probably once been: tall, broad shoulders, arms crossed, his eyes glowing an intense blue, and he observed, "Your heartbeat's too calm for someone who just walked into a werewolf's home." Trevor held his gaze, and they studied each other like predators — measuring posture, breathing, muscle tension — before Trevor replied, "Like I said, I came to talk."
"Scott told me. The more I tell him to stay away from you, the more he gets involved."
"That sounds like him."
Derek didn't react, only asking, "What do you want from me?"
"I'm hunting the alpha. He crossed the line. He's killing. And now Beacon Hills is under my protection."
One of Derek's eyebrows lifted slightly as he said, "It's arrogant to declare yourself a protector when you haven't done anything to prove it," and Trevor answered simply, "You'll see," the air feeling heavier between them. "But that's not the only reason I came. Don't get involved with the alpha. Anyone who sides with him ends up in my sights."
Derek's blue eyes flared brighter as he countered, "You're not in a position to give orders here."
"I am. And if you don't like it… we can settle that right now."
The silence that followed was almost tangible — neither of them moved, neither blinked, but neither attacked, and Trevor knew a fight there would gain him nothing, so he turned and started toward the door while Derek watched his back carefully, still calm, still steady, until just before Trevor stepped outside, Derek asked one last question.
"Do the other hunters know about Scott?"
Trevor stopped, glancing over his shoulder. "No."
"Why?"
"They don't need to."
Without another word, he left, and as he walked away from the house, Trevor cast one last look at the burned structure while a thought crossed his mind: What am I going to do with you, Kate? The question lingered in the air, and farther down the trail, moving through the forest, he heard a rustle among the trees that made him immediately go on alert, his body shifting instinctively as his hand nearly reached for his backpack — for a second, he imagined Derek coming at him from behind, but what emerged from the shadows wasn't a werewolf. It was a coyote. The same one. Trevor relaxed slightly and said, "Well, look at that… You came back. Miss me? I figured you wouldn't care if I skipped a day," and the animal didn't growl, simply watching him, which alone was enormous progress.
In the days that followed, Trevor began visiting the coyote's den almost daily, bringing food, bringing water, sitting a few yards away and simply talking — about school, about lacrosse, about trivial things — though he never mentioned Derek, and surprisingly, the coyote seemed to wait for him, each day coming a little closer until she no longer growled when Trevor reduced the distance between them, until that afternoon he made an impulsive decision.
"Come on. Let's go to my place. I'll get you something better to eat."
The coyote hesitated, but followed, and they walked through the forest together with Trevor speaking casually as if he were accompanied by an old friend, and when they reached his house, he set out food and water in the backyard, leaving enough space so she wouldn't feel pressured, and the coyote ate, then stayed, watching, present, and for the first time she didn't look ready to bolt. When night fell, Trevor went inside to sleep, and a few minutes later the coyote returned to her den — but before disappearing into the trees, she looked back at the house one last time.