I slowly lifted my heavy eyelids, feeling the effects of extreme fatigue. My vision was slightly blurry, I could only make out the few dark shadows that passed by. I rubbed my eyes, groaning. I tried to move my head from my reclined position, but it was stiff and sore, like I had slept for days. I had an excruciating migraine, one that wouldn't fade. "Stiles…?" I called out, hoping he would hear me. It only came out as a harsh whisper though.

My voice was croaked and raspy.

An overwhelming amount of feelings rushed over me. I was hungry, extremely hungry. I was so parched that the next human I saw might not live through the rest of their day. I couldn't believe I was saying that, but it was true. I felt tremendously weak, like I couldn't move a muscle. How long had I been out?

I rubbed my eyes once more, trying to focus my vision. My head was spinning, like I had a massive hangover.

People were talking, but it was hushed and I couldn't make out what it was saying.

I shut my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, and took a deep, relaxed breath. I reopened my eyes, and the ugly brown ceiling above me came into view. There were cracks in it, which contained overgrown weeds that wedged in the middle of it. There was a rusty old vent in the corner of my vision and an old smoke detector that would, without a doubt, never work.

Where was I?

I sluggishly propped myself up on my elbows and took in my surroundings. It looked like an old, abandoned apartment. The windows were barred up, and it appeared to be vacant for quite a while. The revolting stench of a rotting cat carcass sat in the corner of the room, making me gag.

An unexpected revelation occurred.

I had been abducted.

My body twitched into action, and I jolted up.

To my surprise, I was held back. My legs were enveloped in rusty, aged, boisterous, chains. I tugged at them. Usually with my strength, I could pull them right off, but these wouldn't budge. I continued to tug and pull, until eventually, my skin started to go raw.

I winced at the pain.

A buzzing noise startled me, and my head jerked to the right. There, on the old wooden floor, was my phone. It was too far for me to reach though. I could see who was calling, it was Stiles.

When the buzzing stopped, the main screen popped up saying: 34 missed calls. And that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when it showed me the time and the date of the calls. The first one was three days ago.

I had been gone for three days.

Everything seemed like a blur, and I could hardly remember it. I remember being with Malia and Stiles, and then just Stiles, and then I went for my usual walk at dusk. Then I got jumped and kidnapped. The last thing I recall was a prick in my forearm. Someone had attacked me with a sleep sedative, for whatever unknown reason.

I was about to call for help, but then I forced myself to retreat from my decision when I heard the sound of four feet trudging up the stairs.

I had two choices here. I could either fake being unconscious still, or I could continue being conscious and see what they would have to say. I decided to go with option one and I collapsed on the floor again. I shut my eyes, and waited for them to come back

The door clicked open, and two men walked in.

"What are you going to tell her when she wakes up?" One of the men said, slurping aggressively on something. His resonance of his voice made him sound young. It was husky and hoarse.

"The truth" I heard a chair squeak on the old wooden floor, and winced. This man's voice was much older and monotonous.

"And if she doesn't cooperate?"

"Then this will happen again, and I can guarantee her no one will find us."

Husky-voice cleared his throat. "You sure about that? Her cousin's a werewolf."

The man scoffed.

"Leave it to you to turn the one girl that is actually friends with werewolves." Husky-voice chuckled.

How did they know all this?

"Yeah well you were the one who killed her, so who's really at fault for that?"

"All I'm saying is, we better be careful. One bite and they'll kill us."

There was a pause, and then the older man said "Whatever. Her life will be a living hell as long as we're around."

"That's a little drastic, don't ya think?"

There was a silence, and I assumed the older man nodded or shook his head or something.

Husky-voice spoke again. "This chick literally run's with werewolves. She's in a freaking pack of werewolves… And were-coyotes, and banshee's and whatever the hell a 'Stiles' is."

These people had been stalking me, which made me feel extremely violated and uncomfortable.

My phone buzzed again and out of instinct, I almost went to go reach it, although I knew I couldn't.

The older man groaned. "They won't stop calling. If that phone buzzes one more time I'm going to smash the shit out of it and throw it down the stairs. Better yet, I'll rip whosever calling's throat out."

I shivered, breathing a shaky breath.

The chair screeched against the floor again, and someone stood up. "Is she awake?"

The other chair did the same. "I don't know."

A heard a few footsteps, and then I felt someone grab me by the neck, lifting me up. Of course, my eyes flashed open at that motion. I coughed for air. I was faced with a man, who looked around 20. He had dark brown hair with blue eyes. His chin was chiseled to perfection and his face was lined with little bits of stubble, like his skin was covered in grains of sand.

"You little bi—"

"Sebastian." The older, taller, man warned. This man had dark hair as well. He looked around Peter's age, and he had quite the patch of facial hair.

"Have you been listening in this whole time?" He slammed me against the stone wall behind. Considering he was blocking off any passage of air, I just made gagging noises. When he realized the motives he hadn't intended to make, he dropped me to the floor.

I gasped, clutching my throat with my hands.

"Answer me."

I took a few breaths, and just trembled. I was petrified, what could I say? "I- I-…"

"ANSWER ME." He spat. He lifted a fist into the air, and it came falling down straight towards my face. When I felt the impact, I screamed. Blood immediately started falling and my nose was broken, no doubt. I hurt so bad.

"Sebas-"

"What James?" He yelled, throwing another punch. This time, near my left cheekbone.

"Don't kill her before we even get to talk."

This so called Sebastian, looked me in the eyes and glared. His eyes were red, and his fangs bared.

I breathed another shaky breath, then stuttered the words. "Y-You're like me."

He gave me a sarcastic look, then grabbed a chair, pulling it to sit in front of my bloody body.

"Of course we're like you." James pulled up a chair as well. "That's why we took you."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked apprehensively.

"Because we have to."

"No." I shook my head and gulped, "No you don't."

There was a slurping noise, and I looked to Sebastian. He had a bag of blood, like at a hospital, in his hand. He was casually slurping on it like it was a milkshake from McDonalds. I eyed it hesitantly. I was so thirsty. Just the scent made me crazy. I felt delirious.

"Thirsty?" Sebastian asked, sensing my hunger.

I didn't reply, just trembled.

"How about this: if you cooperate I'll give you the rest of this." He said, taunting me.

I shook my head, as much as I wanted it. I tried to push my human senses to take over. "I don't drink human blood."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, "Oh come on!"

"Live a little," James added.

"Why did you take me?" I asked, tears starting to well in my eyes..

"Because we need to grow. We need to expand our species. We're going extinct." James leaned forward, hands together.

"A-Are you saying I should turn people?"

Sebastian nodded, "Hey! She does have a brain after all."

I glared at him, then turned back to James who pissed me off slightly less. "We need help. Turn people and we won't hurt you. Don't cooperate? Then this will happen again."

"Are you kidding me?" I sat up, trying to blink the tears away. "This ruined my life. You turned me and then left me for dead. I almost killed someone."

Sebastian huffed.

"This isn't funny!" I tried to stand on my legs, getting as close as possible to him while the chains held me back.

"Sweetheart, we aren't laughing."

I glared at him. "I would never wish this… this curse… on anyone. You're disgusting." I spat, literally.

Sebastian stood up, pushing his chair over. He grabbed me by the neck, once again, and his fist made contact with my chin with a deafening, crack. Numbing pain shot through me and black dots spotted my vision. I stumbled back with the taste of blood in my mouth.

James didn't stop him this time, probably because he realized I wasn't cooperating.

I was surprised when the numbing pain continued. He threw punches and punches, and my whole body swelled up. I continued to scream, and I eventually ended up transforming do to the amount of emotions I was experiencing.

"You better stop hanging out with werewolves too. Especially Peter Hale." Sebastian ordered, holding his bloody fist high.

He knew Peter Hale? "What do you have against Peter Hale?"

"We want him dead."

"Why?" I asked, hesitantly shielding my face from the next blow.

"Most of us are dead because of him."

I just averted my eyes from them, not knowing what to say. That's probably why Peter knew so much about vampires, because of these guys.

"Good." I whispered.

Another blow came crushing down, and I screamed. I didn't even regret it. I wanted these guys as pissed off as possible, even if it meant torturing me.

It did hurt quite a bit though… So far I counted a broken rib and a broken nose, and a very torn up cheek bone, paired with a black eye.

"Join us. Or this happens again."

I shook my head cautiously, scrambling to the corner of the apartment. Sebastian turned, hissing. His eyes were a deeper red, more maroon. He was just about to crush me again, when a buzzing noise interrupted us.

I moved my hands away from my face and looked to my phone. Stiles.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Sebastian said, lowering his hand. He trudged over to the phone, picked it up, lifted in the air so he could smash it, but then paused. "Maybe this will be fun. This 'Stiles' kid might get worried and come looking if he hears from you."

"No." I whispered under my breath. James didn't say anything, just looked at his ally.

Sebastian pressed the green button, and moved the phone to his ear, squeezing it between his left ear and shoulder.

"Oh thank God… Anna." I heard Stiles sigh in the phone. "Scott!" He yelled, "She answered! Anna. Where have you be—"

"Anna's not here right now. Can I take a message?"

There was a long pause before Stiles spoke. "I swear to God if you touch her. Or else—"

"Or else what?" he grinned devilishly and walked to the kitchen, grabbing something from one of the drawers.

"I- I-" Stiles just stuttered into the phone.

"You want to talk to her?" He asked. He turned to me, and I finally saw what he had grabbed out of the drawers. A sharp, metallic, knife. It shook violently in his hands as he approached me.

I gulped.

"Let's talk to her." He smiled, putting the phone on speaker. He set it on the table. I know what he was trying to do. He was trying to break me, so I would do what they say. This species must have really been dying out or he wouldn't take such drastic measures.

He kneeled down to me, and I tried to nudge him away, but he pinned me into the corner of the wall. All I had to do was be quiet, not let Stiles know I was in harm. Otherwise Scott and him would come searching for me, which I know they already where, but now that Sebastian had answered the call their dad could track it.

I shut my swollen eyes. "Please… Don't…" I whispered.

I felt the sharp tip touch my collar bone. There was a few seconds of silence, then I felt the cut. I moaned internally from the excruciating pain, but kept it in, blinking back the tears that stung in the corners of my eyes.

"Anna?" Stiles breathed through the phone.

"Stiles…" I whimpered quietly back.

"Oh my God An—"

His voice was cut off by my ear-piercing scream. Sebastian had shoved the knife straight through me, right by my stomach. It was excruciating. The pain was almost unbearable…

"Oh God! Please! Don't hurt her. Please, I'm begging you." Stiles breathed.

Sebastian didn't say anything, just took the knife out of me and shoved it through me again, this time near my hip.

Another thundering shriek left my body, and tears ran down my face. It was so painful… I felt like I would faint from the loss of blood. I could feel myself getting weaker.

"STOP—" Stiles was interrupted by James pressing the red button, hanging up on him.

"Enough Sebastian, we should return the girl. If she doesn't cooperate, we'll find out, and in a few weeks we'll come again." James warned both me and Sebastian.

Sebastian ripped the knife out of me, and I let out a long moan, and then lifted me by my blood-soaked hair. He bashed me against the wall, which cracked my hip, and said, "A few weeks, we'll be back. If Peter Hale is still alive, and you're not turning people, then let's just say history will repeat itself."

I gulped down a mouthful of my own blood and spit. I felt very faint, but I tried to focus on him for as long as possible.

"Don't think we won't find you either," He slammed me again, then dropped me. "If you move to bloody Mexico we'll still find you. Trust me."

I coughed up some blood, spitting it out on the floor. These threats scared me, but I would never kill Peter, and I would never turn someone. I'd rather die, which seemed to be what was happening.

"What a waste of a turn." Sebastian muttered, walking away with the bloody knife.

I relaxed against the floor, feeling extreme fatigue try to take over. The loss of blood made me weak. I knew by tomorrow I would be all healed up and okay.

"Let's go." James called over to Sebastian, "We have to find the next one."

Next one? He turned others then just me? These guys were cruel.

James walked into the other room and came back a few seconds later with gloves and the bag that was previously wrapped around my head. He also came back with chains.

I thought this would be over and they'd just let me walk home…

But no. That was too easy, of course. James, wearing the gloves, picked up one of the chains and started to wrap them around my wrist. I understand why he was wearing gloves now. The chains were made with mountain ash. They instantly burned my skin when they put them on.

I cringed, moaning at the same time.

I tried to scramble away from him, but there wasn't much you could do when you were chained to the floor. Eventually, Sebastian had to pin me down and James put the bag over my head, which was also someone associated with mountain ash. I assumed the drawstrings were made with it. It burned to touch, so I just left it, along with my chained up hands.

I felt the chains from my bloody ankles be unlocked, and then a hand grab me the bag, and shove me forward. The hand moved down to my back, and gently pushed me in the direction to go. We took a left, went down some stairs, then a right, and then we headed out a door and into a car.

The car ride wasn't too long. I couldn't recall the number of turns, my head was spinning too much and I felt like I was going to pass out.

"She's bleeding all over my seats" Sebastian grumbled.

I rolled my eyes.

I felt the car come to a stop, and a door opened.

Sebastian, I assumed, pressed the knife into me slowly once more. "Don't make a single noise." He whispered, knowing I could grab one of the neighbors' attention. He pushed it into me, and I moaned once again, blinking back tears.

Leaving the knife in me, he tossed me onto the wet grass, and I heard the car drive away.

I took a large breath, then braced myself for the short but painful journey I was about to endure in. I propped myself up on my elbows and crawled until my hands met the stairs. I slowly crawled up the stairs, feeling the knife dig into me more, and collapsed by the front door.

I let unconsciousness takeover now. I was okay. I was safe, now. I listened in for any voices, but there was none. No one was home. I breathed a large sigh, and let my head hit the doormat. I shut my swollen eyes, and got ready to sleep. I was so tired… And so hungry.

I rested there, drifting in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours, until I heard a voice.

"Kira…" Scott whispered, "Oh my God… Look at this. There's a trail of blood." I heard a series of footsteps, Kira gasp, and then I heard the footsteps pick up.

"Kira! Call Stiles, Oh my God! Anna…" He put one arm underneath my legs, and the other around my shoulders. He lifted me into the warm house, and placed me on the sofa.

I just moaned, feeling the pain worsen.

"Anna…" He breathed in panic. "You have a knife inside of you. Oh my God."

He put both hands on the knife, take a large breath of air, then pulled it out.

I screamed a little, feeling it rip through my partially healed skin. I should've take it out earlier, I just felt too weak.

"Don't touch my wrists, or the bag." I warned Scott, "It's lined with mountain ash. Wait for Stiles."

Scott didn't reply. I just heard him get up, run to what sounded like his mom's closet, grab something, then sprint back.

"Anna…" Kira whispered, getting a good look at my wounds.

"I'm fine." I grumbled back.

A few minutes later, I heard the jeep pull up, Stiles fall out, and then door was open. "Where is she?" He panicked, "Where is she?" When he walked over to Scott, he must have seen me on the couch because he didn't say anything. There was just silence and heavy breathing.

"Anna?" That was Malia's voice. Was she with Stiles?

"The bag and chains are made of mountain ash so none of us can take it off." Scott explained.

He was tentative for a few seconds, but then kneeled beside me on the couch. I felt him try to untangle the knots in the drawstring. He was uncomfortably close though. And I was hungry.

He eventually got it loose, and slowly pulled the bag over my head.

It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, but when it did, I saw my friends all standing over me. Kira had her hands over her mouth, Scott and Stiles' jaw were agape and Malia looked confused.

Stiles was the first to say something. "Anna, your face…"

I tried to blink through my swollen eyelids, and it hurt.

Scott took action, and went into a first aid kit he grabbed. He pulled out some solution to clean my wounds, and a cloth.

I closed my eyes, reclining back on the couch. I let Scott clean my wounds, wincing every now and again at the pain. My rib and hip were healing, but my nose would have to be re-broken in order for it to look like it did before.

Scott knew that too.

"Just do it, Scott." I pleaded. "Do it quickly."

Scott shook his head. "I-I don't know if I can do that."

"Please," I begged, "I can't. The more time we waste the more it will heal."

Scott gnawed on his lip, but then placed his hands on my nose. He counted down from three, then a numbing sensation spread across my face. It hurt, but I could handle it. I still let out a large scream that startled the others.

Stiles grabbed a wet cloth and started cleaning my face, wiping the blood away.

He got too close, so I pushed him away. "Stiles.." I moved him with my hands, and he looked inconsolable. "I'm sorry." I breathed, "I'm just really hungry right now and I can't be near you." I explained.

His eyes lit up, which I hadn't expected, and he grabbed my hand. "Come with me, then."

"What?" I mumbled.

"Just come with me."

I gave him a confused look, but agreed to anyway. He helped me stand up. He put his arm underneath mine and we limped together out of the living room.

"I'll be right back. Just stay here, do something. Watch a movie." He said to the pack.

He helped me limp to my bedroom sluggishly, and I couldn't help but think about when he was like this a few days ago, weak in my arms. We had switched places.

Stiles sat me on the bed. I looked up at him and tilted my head.

He had an excited look. He sat beside me and held out his wrist. "Here"

"What?" I mumbled, rubbing my eye.

"I'm offering it to you." He shoved his wrist in my face, "Here"

I shook my head, although I did want to take his offer. I knew if I started I couldn't stop though.

"Just do it, Anna."

He didn't have to say it again. I moved closer him, placing my leg on top of his. I was practically sitting on him. I felt myself transition, and at that point I couldn't help myself. I cautiously bit into his wrist, closing my eyes.

The only sound was his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest. He stroked my hair soothingly.

As hungry as I was, I didn't feel like I was going to kill him or maim him or something. I actually felt like I was quite content, like I could stop anytime, as long as I thought about Stiles. I continued to drink, quenching my painful thirst, until the burning feeling went away.

"I was so worried about you," He whispered, pressing his lips to my hair.

I stopped drinking then, and I wiped my face with my sleeve. He handed me a wet cloth and I cleaned up whatever was left with it.

I looked up at him with swollen eyes, not saying anything.

He stared back at me for a few seconds, but then stood up, arms open. He helped me to the washroom, and that's when I got a good look at myself.

I stood in front of the mirror and say my face, white and blistering, eyelids nearly swollen shut. Hair fell from the front of my forehead in thin clusters. I looked like I had gone swimming in a pool of blood. I had a large gash, which was already healing, across my collar bone. There were three stab marks in my torso, and my face had a cut across the cheek bone.

It looked terrible, but I knew I would be fine. I would be alright. I washed my face with my hands, also washing out my mouth, and then clung back on to Stiles. We trudged to the living room, and he set me back on the sofa.

Everyone avoided the awkward topic about what had just happened. Everyone knew. Instead, they all bombarded me with other questions, as Scott aided to my wounds, cleaning out the ones that weren't already healed.

"Who took you?" Scott asked.

"Two men, named James and Sebastian." I replied, hissing as he cleaned out one of my stab marks. "They knew Peter, somehow. They want him dead."

"Is that why they took you?" Stiles said, placing his warm hand on top of mine.

I shook my head. "They were the ones that turned me. They said that our, um, species is dying out. They want me to turn others."

Stiles winced, making a funny face as he heard me talk. "So why did they do this to you?"

I shrugged, "A threat, maybe? They said if I didn't cooperate it would happen again. They're really serious about this."

"Hmm." Scott mumbled, cleaning up the last wound. He moved to Stiles now, wrapping his wrist up.

"They weren't very happy with me."

"How come?" Scott looked up at me.

"Because I'm in a pack of werewolves, banshees, kitsunes and were-coyotes."

"Hey what about Stiles." Stiles grumbled.

I ignored him, smiling slightly, then continued. "I guess Peter's partly at fault for that. They said he killed a lot of their kind before."

"Peter kills a lot of everyone's kind." Stiles mumbled, tightening his grip on my hand.

I nodded in agreement, smiling.

Once Scott was done, he put the kit away.

"Like mother like son," I smiled, referring to his nursing abilities.

He just grinned, placing the kit on the coffee table.

"Where is she, anyway?" I asked.

Scott looked at his feet, with a poignant expression.

"What?" I said, looking back at Stiles. Stiles just stared with wide eyes. "What?" I asked, looking back to Scott.

"She's taking Isaac to the airport."

"What? Why?"

"Isaac's leaving for a while."

I jolted up, instantly regretting it because of the pain. "No! He can't leave."

"He won't be gone for long." Scott exclaimed, "He'll be back. He just went to visit a cousin in Canada."

I sat back down, sighing. There was another one gone. What would we do with his room? It would be so depressing to see it vacant.

"So what did I miss while I was being tortured to death?" I asked the pack.

"Nothing really we were mostly looking for you." Stiles paused, "And Derek…"

"What?" I whispered harshly.

Stiles licked his small, pink lips, then looked me in the eyes.

"Derek's missing."