Chapter 14: The Hunter's Daughter
Kate Argent is exactly like I remember from the show.
Beautiful. Charming. And absolutely terrifying.
She's leaning against Chris Argent's car when school lets out, sunglasses perched on her head, smiling like she owns the world. Allison introduces her to Scott in the parking lot.
"This is my Aunt Kate. She's visiting for a few weeks."
Scott shakes her hand, grinning like an idiot. "Nice to meet you."
Kate's smile doesn't waver. "You too, Scott. Allison talks about you constantly."
My Haki screams.
The sensation is worse than the Alpha. Worse than Peter's presence in the preserve. Because this isn't primal rage or supernatural hunger.
This is human malice. Calculated. Controlled. Cold.
Kate's emotional signature is a void wrapped in charm. Predatory intelligence masquerading as suburban normalcy. And underneath it all—cruelty.
She enjoys this. The hunt. The kill. The power.
I'm standing twenty feet away, frozen. My hands are shaking. Blood drips from my nose—just a trickle, but enough to notice.
Kate's eyes flick to me. Assess. Catalog. File away.
"You must be Coach Finstock's son," she says. "Adam, right?"
I force myself to nod. "Yeah."
"Allison mentioned you're friends with Scott. That's sweet." Her tone is casual. Friendly. But my Haki reads the calculation underneath.
She knows. Or suspects. Something about Scott. Something about me.
"We have chemistry together," I say.
"How nice."
She turns back to Scott, and the moment breaks. But the damage is done. Kate Argent is in Beacon Hills. And she's already hunting.
Scott drives away with Allison. I stand in the parking lot, trying to breathe.
Stiles appears beside me. "You okay?"
"No."
"What's wrong?"
"Her."
"Who? Kate?"
"Yeah."
"What about her?"
I pull him toward my car, away from listening ears. "She's dangerous, Stiles. More dangerous than the Alpha."
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
"That's not—"
"Trust me. Please."
Stiles studies me. His Haki signature shifts—suspicion giving way to concern. "You're serious."
"Yeah."
"Okay. Then we research her."
Stiles' room is organized chaos.
Cork boards covered in newspaper clippings. Laptop open with seventeen tabs. Red Bull cans stacked like a pyramid.
Scott is pacing. "I don't understand. She seemed nice."
"Sociopaths always do," Stiles says, typing furiously. "Okay. Kate Argent. Thirty-five. Lives in... wait, she doesn't have a permanent address. She moves around. A lot."
"That's suspicious," I say.
"Very suspicious." Stiles pulls up another tab. "And look at this. Fire investigations. Six different states over the past decade. Kate was present or nearby for all of them."
Scott leans over his shoulder. "What kind of fires?"
"Arson. Suspected but never proven." Stiles scrolls. "And here's the kicker—every fire was at a property linked to unsolved deaths. Maulings. Animal attacks."
My meta-knowledge clicks into place.
Kate burned the Hale house.
The certainty settles in my gut. I don't know how I know. But I do.
"The Hale fire," I say.
Both of them turn to stare at me.
"What about it?" Stiles asks.
"Kate was there. When it happened."
"How do you know?"
"I just—" I pause. Choose my words carefully. "—I have a feeling. A strong one."
Stiles pulls up local news archives. Scrolls through articles from six years ago. Stops on one.
HALE FAMILY TRAGEDY - HOUSE FIRE CLAIMS MULTIPLE LIVES
And there, in the article: Kate Argent, visiting family in the area, was among the first to report the fire to authorities.
Scott goes pale. "She was there."
"That doesn't mean she started it," Stiles says.
"But it's suspicious," I say. "And with her history—"
"You think she killed Derek's family?"
"I think she's dangerous. And we need to be careful."
Scott is quiet. His Haki signature is chaos—loyalty to Allison warring with the growing realization that her family might be monsters.
"What do we do?" he asks.
"We watch her. And we warn Derek."
The next day, Kate corners me in the hallway.
It's between classes. The hall is crowded, but she moves through students like they're not there. Appears at my locker before I realize she's approaching.
"Adam." Her smile is friendly. Predatory. "Can we talk?"
"About what?"
"Scott. And you." She leans against the lockers, casual. Invading my space. "You two are close. That's nice. Everyone needs friends."
My Haki is screaming. Run. Get away. Now.
But I hold my ground. "Yeah. He's a good guy."
"He seems special."
"He's smart. Good at lacrosse."
"That's not what I mean."
Silence. Her eyes bore into me, searching for cracks.
"You seem pretty protective of him," she says. "That's sweet. But you should be careful, Adam. Beacon Hills has a history. People who dig into things they shouldn't—people who get involved in situations they don't understand—they get hurt."
It's not a warning. It's a threat.
"I'll keep that in mind," I say.
Kate's smile widens. "Good."
She walks away. I stand frozen, heart hammering. The hallway feels too small. Too close.
My phone is out before I think about it.
Derek. Kate Argent is in town. We have a problem.
Three dots appear. Then:
Derek: I know. I've been tracking her.
She threatened me.
Derek: She threatens everyone. That's her game.
We need to talk. About your family. About the fire.
Long pause. Then:
Derek: How much do you know?
Enough to know Kate was involved.
Derek: Meet me tomorrow. Alone. Hale house.
Okay.
I stare at the screen.
Tomorrow, I'm going to have to explain how I know things I shouldn't. How I've pieced together a conspiracy that Derek himself barely understands.
And I don't have a good lie prepared.
That night, I can't sleep.
Kate's presence lingers like a stain. Every time I close my eyes, I see her smile. Feel the weight of her malice pressing against my Haki.
She's worse than the Alpha. Because the Alpha is a monster. Straightforward. Understandable.
Kate is human. And she chooses cruelty.
My phone buzzes.
Stiles: Can't sleep either?
No.
Stiles: Kate's bad news.
Yeah.
Stiles: Be careful tomorrow. Whatever Derek tells you—be careful.
I will.
I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, the secrets start collapsing. Derek will demand answers. And I'll have to decide how much truth to give.
Not enough time to prepare.
But it never is.
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