POV: Leo Stilinski
POV: Leo Stilinski
I died. That part is still a little fuzzy, but I remember enough—the cold, the fading heartbeat, the last thought that maybe things could've gone differently. And then came the voice. Whether it was a god, a cosmic administrator, or some bored higher-dimensional entity, I never got the name. All I got were the rules and three wishes.
I didn't hesitate.
My first wish: to be an Alpha Canadian Mountain Lion Shifter. Not a werewolf. Not a beta. I wanted something rarer, something strong, something uniquely mine.
My second wish: complete and total control over my forms, instincts, and transformations.
And my third: to be twice as strong as the average Alpha werewolf. Considering what I remembered from Teen Wolf, that meant I was essentially a walking, snarling cheat code.
The entity granted the wishes like it was nothing. Then everything went dark.
When I woke up, I wasn't dying. I was twelve, lying in a hospital bed with Stiles Stilinski poking my cheek like an overcaffeinated woodpecker.
"Leo? Leo? Hey—oh my god, Dad! He's awake!"
That's how my new life began.
Fast forward to now.
I'm sixteen. Six feet and two inches tall with a swimmer's build, black medium-length hair that can't decide if it wants to curl, and bright blue eyes I definitely didn't have in my past life. My human body alone feels powerful—muscles coiled under my skin like they're always ready to move.
But that's nothing compared to what lies beneath.
I stand at the edge of the preserve right now, the usual pre-full-moon tension buzzing around Beacon Hills. It's not the moon affecting me—I'm immune thanks to wish number two—but I can feel the supernatural energy in the air like static.
Scott McCall, Allison, Stiles, and I came out here under the excuse of "Scott trying to get control." The truth? I needed to be close in case things went wrong. They usually did.
Stiles nudges me with his elbow. "You good, big guy? You're doing that broody 'silent predator' thing again."
"Pretty sure that's just my face," I say.
Scott laughs nervously as he paces. He's not bitten yet—not until the night Peter Hale decides to go for a midnight jog. And that's the thing that makes my heart beat a little faster. I know the timeline. Or most of it. But things can change. My presence alone could alter everything.
"Leo," Allison says gently, "you okay? You're tense."
I nod. "Just listening."
And I am. The woods are alive. Every sound is crisp—leaves shifting, rabbits darting through brush, the distant hum of a powerline. My hearing is sharp even in human form.
I know Peter is out here tonight. I don't know where exactly, but I know he's hunting. I know he's watching Scott. And I know that if I interfere too much, everything spirals.
But I also know I'm not going to let one of my best friends die.
"Scott," I say quietly, "how are you feeling?"
"Like something's wrong," he admits.
Yeah. Because something is.
A snap echoes to our left. Scott freezes. Allison tenses. Stiles grabs my arm, whispering, "Please tell me that was a rabbit. I really want it to be a rabbit."
It wasn't a rabbit.
The scent hits me before the shape does—burned, decayed, wrong. The Alpha. Peter Hale.
My heart pounds once. Instinct tries to surge up, begging me to tear off my skin and become the hybrid form, twelve feet of pitch-black muscle and claws. I force it back. Full control or not, the instinct to protect is strong.
"Stiles," I whisper, "get Allison out of here. Now."
He doesn't argue. Good.
Scott steps forward. "Leo… what is that?"
"A problem I'm not letting touch you."
Peter lunges before Scott even realizes he's being targeted. But I'm faster.
My body moves instinctively—one step, a shift of weight, and I slam into Scott, knocking him out of the Alpha's path. I don't shift, but my strength is still far beyond human. We crash into the dirt.
"Run!" I shout.
Scott scrambles to his feet, confused, terrified. "Leo, what about you?"
"I'll catch up!"
Peter growls, a guttural, feral sound that rattles the air. He expected an easy mark. He hadn't expected me.
He circles. I keep myself between him and Scott. I need to let the bite happen eventually—Scott needs his powers. The pack needs him.
But not tonight. Not while Peter is rabid and feral.
The Alpha lunges again, faster this time. I twist aside, grab a fallen branch thick as my arm, and slam it into Peter's ribs. The crack echoes.
He staggers, shocked.
Yeah, I think. I'm not the same kind of predator you're used to.
But I can't win this fight without exposing myself. And if I expose myself too early, everything collapses.
Peter snarls, but the attack stops. He studies me, sniffing the air as if trying to understand what I am.
He won't.
Then he bolts into the darkness.
I stand alone in the woods, heart hammering, the weight of the future hanging over me.
"Timeline's already shifting," I mutter.
And I don't know if that's good… or very, very bad.