⠀⠀⠀⠀As soon as I throw open the doors, I spot the teacher's desk, which—as far as I can tell—is the sturdiest thing in this room.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"The desk!" I call out, and Stiles and Scott move quickly. Stiles and I grab the side facing the door, and Scott grabs the opposite side.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Stiles and I start pulling the desk back while Scott pushes it in our direction, helping us move it to the door.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Just as we get the desk a few inches over, Stiles stops pulling and holds his hand up, stopping all of us. "Stop, stop," I huff slightly, letting go of the table as I look over at Stiles, who motions to the classroom door, "The door's not gonna keep it out."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Scott and I exchange glances, sharing a sigh. "We know," Scott says, a tinge of defeat in his voice.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"It's your boss," Stiles suddenly says, and it only takes me a second to figure out what he's referring to. Deaton is the Alpha.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Scott doesn't catch on as quickly, though. "What?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Deaton? The Alpha?" Stiles clarifies, but Scott still looks confused. Stiles grinds his teeth slightly and points at Scott, "Your boss."
⠀⠀⠀⠀"No," Scott instantly denies, and I tilt my head.
⠀⠀⠀⠀Is he seriously not seeing what we're seeing?
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Yes," Stiles counters, hissing slightly at Scott, "Murdering psycho-Werewolf."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Scott shakes his head rapidly, leaning closer to the desk, "That can't be."
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Come on, Scott," I scoff, getting both of the boys' attention, "He vanishes from Derek's backseat and, all of a sudden, the Alpha shows up and shoves its claws in Derek's back?" I tilt my head and my face scrunches up on its own, "That's not a coincidence, Scott."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Scott's jaw sets, and he looks determined, "It's not him."
⠀⠀⠀⠀"He killed Derek," Stiles adds quickly, and I feel a small pang in my chest.
⠀⠀⠀⠀I don't trust Derek, but that doesn't mean that I want him dead.
⠀⠀⠀⠀"No," Scott widens his eyes, and my head snaps back with a small scoff. How blind can Scott be? "Derek's not dead. He can't be dead."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Stiles scoffs, leaning further on the desk and putting his fist on the table. "Blood spurted out of his mouth, okay? That doesn't exactly qualify as a minor injury. He's dead," Stiles lifts his fist and points out the window before pointing at me and him, "and we're next."
⠀⠀⠀⠀"Okay, just..." Scott huffs out, breathing deeply before he locks his eyes on Stiles and me, "What do we do?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀Stiles, always thinking on his feet, inhales sharply and looks up at Scott and me, his eyes sharp with determination. "We get to my Jeep. We get out of here."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Stiles then turns to Scott, tilting his head. "You seriously think about quitting your job."
⠀⠀⠀⠀Scott and I both nod, and Stiles smiles for a second. "Good."
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