Chapter Text
Stiles dialed the three numbers with shaking hands. He had to re-enter the number four times before his trembling fingers could connect the call. Then he waited for the line to pick up, which only took two rings, but it was an eternity to Stiles. Please help me.
“911, what is your emergency,” a calm male voice answered.
“I’d like to order a pizza,” Stiles said, clearing his throat to get the words past his stiff tongue, the motion causing his bruised throat to throb faintly.
“You called 911 to order a pizza?” the man asked, at once irritated and confused.
“Yeah, you saw that TikTok too, huh, that one about the pizza order, that was hilarious, right?” Stiles said, desperate to get his point across to the man.
Derek Hale, emergency dispatcher, frowned at his computer. He leaned over to Erica, sitting next to him and pointed at the words transcribing themselves across his screen.
Erica’s eyes went wide.
“It’s code for he’s in an abusive situation and he needs help now. Trust me. Get him an ambulance and the cops now.” Erica said and pushed Derek back into position.
“Are you in a dangerous situation?” Derek asked, keeping his voice calm.
“Yep. That’s right. Extra pepperoni please, make sure there are a lot on there,” Stiles said.
“You need more than two officers?”
“Yeah, go ahead and add on a six pack of Howling Moon with the order,” Stiles added.
Derek got that one. “He’s a werewolf?” he asked, typing in the order for three cop cars, including a wolf who comes with a specialized taser and a paramedic for the man.
“What’s your name?” Derek asked.
“Go ahead and put it on my card. M Stilinski just like it is on the card,” Stiles said and read off a number. Derek put it in the computer even though he didn’t know why. Then the credit card number popped up with a card and a picture of the owner. M was short for Mieczysław Stilinski. The first name he would never be able to pronounce.
He then put an alert into the Supernatural Support Squad or Triple S and flagged his uncle who worked there. He would team up with the cops to make sure the were in the situation was safely taken into custody and didn’t go off the cliff and kill his boyfriend.
“Are you bleeding?” Derek asked him.
“Yep. Sure am. Yeah, extra sauce on that for me. Like extra,” Stiles said, his voice shaking, weak and frightened.
“The officers are on the way as well as a rep from the Supernatural Support Squad. We’ll be there within two minutes. Are you going to be safe?”
“Your computer system went down? I have to hold until it’s back up so I can pay? Alright fine, just don’t put me on hold,” Stiles said, thinking quick.
“Stiles, what the fuck is taking so god damn long?” A voice roared through the background.
“Computer system is down, Theo, it’ll be back up in just a couple minutes. Then I’ll be able to pay,” Stiles called back.
“Stupid bitch, you can’t even order a pizza without problems? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Derek heard the voice getting closer and closer to ‘Stiles’ as the man called him. It seemed easier than trying to pronounce the kid’s first name. He heard a dull sound of impact and a gasp from Stiles. The fucker had hit him right there with Derek hearing every moment!
“Sir, the computer system is back up, go ahead and give me the number,” Derek said. He knew if the guy was a were he would be able to hear anything Derek said.
“Okay, great, here is the number again,” Stiles said, a slight wheeze in his breathing, and took his time reading off the number.
Derek let him do what he needed to do, watching the screen that would tell him when the officers got to the scene.
“Is he gone?” Derek said when Stiles was done reading the card.
“I need a confirmation number please,” Stiles said, his voice trembling.
“Sure thing, I’m gonna read it to you slowly,” Derek said, then lowered his voice. “Is your life in danger?”
“Very much so,” Stiles said casually.
“Is he armed?” Derek asked.
“Sure is, forty-five of them,” Stiles whispered.
“A 45-caliber pistol?” Derek updated the officers so they knew to watch for the gun.
“You got that right,” Stiles muttered.
“They are approximately one minute out. When they get there, keep your hands up so they know who you are.”
“Will do. I'll look for the pizza guy in fifteen minutes. Please make sure you put extra pepperoni on it,” Stiles managed, hoping he made it the whole time.
“Okay, Stiles, I am going to name some body parts you tell me if you want a different veggie, okay?” He heard a hum of agreement. He knew it was a good way to keep Stiles talking as he waited for the cops.
“Head?”
“Yeah,” Stiles agreed.
“Back?”
“I said Double Pepperoni,” he muttered.
“It’s really bad on your back?”
“Like it says on the package,” Stiles said.
“Stomach, abdomen?” Derek asked, trying to get as much information as possible for the paramedics.
“Tender, hurts a lot,” Stiles whispered so quietly, it was only Derek’s wolf hearing that picked it up. “Scares me.”
“Got it. I’m letting the paramedics know,” Derek assured him. “Can you walk?”
“Barely any,” Stiles answered.
“Gotcha. Okay. Arms, wrists, hands?”
“A bit of this, a bit of that,” he said.
“Okay, so multiple wounds?” Derek guessed and nodded when Stiles gave a sound of assent.
“Go hide in the bathroom if you need to,” Derek said, suddenly desperate for Stiles to come out of this okay. He wasn’t supposed to care about the people who called for help, but he cared for this young man. He wanted to know him and figure him out and see what got him to the place where his life was in danger from the person who was supposed to care about him. Stiles was clever and getting Derek to understand what was going on was going to stick in his memory for life.
“No can do, chief, I don’t need any dessert. My back can’t handle it.”
“Is your back hurt?” Derek asked, adding to the notes for the paramedics.
“Sure is. Like a pepperoni pizza,” Stiles muttered.
“The agent from Triple S will be able to help you. He will be arriving with the rest of them. They are coming to your door right now. Okay, hands up, Stiles, you’ve got this. You were very brave and I’m so glad you were clever enough to get your needs across. The wolf officer will be Peter Hale, my uncle. He will help you with whatever you need.”
“Thanks man,” Stiles whispered.
“Beacon Hills Sheriff Department, open the door now,” a loud voice yelled.
“What the fuck?” Theo shouted from the other room. “What did you do? What the fuck did you do, you little bitch, what, you called the fucking cops on me? Do you want to be dead, is that what this is? You want to die, you little punk bitch? I can make that happen for you.”
Derek could just grip his desk tight, it was the only thing he could do as he heard Stiles being hit again and again before his breath suddenly got cut off. Theo was choking him.
“Officers be advised, werewolf is choking the victim, get that door open!” Derek shouted to the cops on the scene.
With a deep sigh of relief, he heard the door slam open and shouts filled the room. Suddenly Stiles phone went dead.
Derek could only watch the screen as it was updated to say that they had arrived on scene and were taking care of the victim. He stood and took a deep breath, the call hitting him harder than he thought it would.
Stiles looked at the cops filling the room. They all had their guns trained on Theo and were trying to get him to surrender.
With a quick move, Theo was behind Stiles holding the gun to his head, arm around his throat. Stiles couldn’t stop the silent tears of pain and fear and exhaustion that streaked down his face. Theo hated it when he cried, the punishments were always worse than normal. He didn’t know if he would live to see Theo taken down or if they’d both be taken down.
He had so many regrets from this life. He couldn’t believe it was going to end this way. It was crazy and yet here he was, a gun to his head, his life forfeit to a crazy wolf who had claimed Stiles was his mate so Stiles had given him chance after chance after chance to prove it. His lonely, raw heart had leapt when he heard Theo growl “Mine!” that was the sign of a wolf finding their mate. Their instincts went nuts for the first few minutes of the initial connection. Stiles was always hoping to feel that elusive mate bond that everyone learned about in elementary school. But it never showed up, which was yet another reason for Stiles to be beaten. He was a weak little human, he had no recourse. He wasn’t fast enough or strong enough. He’d thought he was smart enough. Being where he was currently proved that he was stupid.
He should have left Theo’s ass after the first time he’d gotten hit, when he was punished for not feeling the bond. Stiles knew… of course he knew, he knew very well that Theo wasn’t his and he wasn’t Theo’s, no matter how bad Theo wanted it. So he’d been beaten, raped, starved, whipped, punched, flogged, if you could think of it, Theo had done it to him. Hell, his favorite punishment was rice. It was painful as fuck but didn’t scar or make you bleed. He would be forced to kneel on raw rice for hours and be sobbing and screaming in pain and yet, there was no injury. Sometimes his knees would get red and swollen, but it wasn’t enough to interfere in his life. He eventually lost his job at the library. Theo was fine with that. He wanted his bitch at home, feeding him and keeping his house clean and bed warm. The sex wasn’t even good. Theo was selfish and an uncoordinated oaf when it came to sex. That was when it was consensual. For about the first month. The next nine months were spent in hell. Pain was his closest companion. He had no idea how to get him out of it.
Scott hadn’t listened when Stiles was crying out for help, confessing he knew Theo wasn’t his mate. Scott told him he wasn’t likely to find better, so he may as well try and be happy where he was. That was their last conversation.
With his dad dead and Scott not giving a shit anymore, he was in this alone. He had moved back to Beacon Hills after he graduated with a degree in library science, set to take over the supernatural library that was in Beacon Hills, but between his dad’s sudden death and meeting Theo, his life took a drastic turn. His father had been shot in the line of duty. A freaking robber trying to get the cash register at a tiny little corner store that everyone in the town loved. His dad had defended the store and the owner with his life. He’d been shot point blank. But the owner and his wife had lived and his dad had gotten off a single shot before he bled out and it took down the perpetrator. The fucker died with his father’s bullet in his head and his father died the same way. It killed him every time he thought about it. He wasn’t there with his dad. He’d died in a little convenience store; in pain, alone, not knowing how much Stiles loved him and needed him in his life.
Noah Stilinski had been honored, given a bench in the local park, and buried with a full military funeral due to his time in the Army. It was a beautiful service and most of his friends had shown up. Scott had claimed he was all booked up that day with veterinarian patients who needed him. Not his best friend whose last living parent was now dead. He still had both of his parents even if they were out of touch and divorced. They were still out there. But, no, he made the choice to shove his fingers up dogs’ asses instead of standing next to Stiles on the second worst day of his life.
That was it. That was the tipping point. Then Scott had introduced Theo to Stiles swearing that they’d all gone to elementary school together even though Stiles knew it was bullshit. Theo had gotten all teary-eyed and swore Stiles was his mate. Stiles was lost from that point. He’d been desperate for love, for touch, for anything to ease the pain inside him. Theo had done that. He’d distracted him and gotten him to concentrate on other things. Like learning how to stitch his own body parts closed. How to set his own broken bones. How to stop a bleed that just didn’t want to stop. He was so lost and not strong enough to fight. Why bother? Everything good left him eventually.
Now, Stiles stared at the officers, his arms still in the air as high as he could do it, his body aching at the movement.
Suddenly, another man came up to the door, his black uniform standing out among the tan uniforms of the Sheriff’s department, announcing he was with the Supernatural Support Squad. They were called in when a were had issues and they might need to be taken down.
“Theo Raeken, you are under arrest. Put the gun down now, hands in the air, or you will be sentenced to losing your wolf. You don’t want that to happen, son,” the were said, his voice firm. His eyes were the red of an alpha, his muscles were huge, his arms, neck and trim waist clearly muscled and plenty capable of taking Theo down if he needed to. But Theo had a gun to Stiles head, just like his father. Would he die with a bullet in his head too? Would he see his parents again if he died? He couldn’t say it was the worst thing that could happen. Maybe it would be a relief, but probably not, not with his luck the way it was.
Fear gripped his body, his heart pounding and his vision graying out. That was all it took for him to drop right into a panic attack. Gasping for breath, his legs weakened and he slithered slowly out of Theo’s arms as he hyperventilated. Theo kicked him in the ribs, calling him useless.
It didn’t matter anymore, though, because a black blur seemed to fly over Stiles and tackle Theo to the floor. He was quickly shackled in wolfsbane infused handcuffs and ankle cuffs and was escorted outside. Then the strong alpha came back inside and came to kneel down next to Stiles, shouting instructions to the paramedics who had finally arrived.
“Slow your breathing, sweetheart, Theo is gone, my partner from the Supernatural Support Squad is already taking him in. You never have to see him again, so take a nice deep breath for me. Come on, don’t make me beg, that just wouldn’t be nice,” he teased gently as Stiles gasped. “My name is Peter. You spoke to my nephew Derek on the line with 911. Do you remember that?”
Stiles nodded and took a shuddering breath. He had no idea if oxygen went into him or not, but the man smiled, pleased. Stiles kept his eyes averted, pain and humiliation burning through his body.
“Very good sweetheart, you’re doing really good. Another slow inhale, feel my breath,” Peter said, gently taking Stiles’ hand and putting it on his heavily muscled chest. If Stiles had more brain capacity, he might think about how unfairly gorgeous this man was. But he didn’t have the capacity for that at the moment. So instead, he concentrated on his breathing. The man kept praising him as the paramedics appeared around him and got his various injuries stabilized and they got ready to move him.
Stiles held Peter’s hand as the wolf gently lifted him onto the gurney, taking his pain, his entire arm turning black with the pain he was taking from the patient, Stiles moaning with relief. They didn’t even take the time to do an assessment, they ran him right out to the ambulance, Peter with him the whole way.
“Thank Derek for me, please. Once he got it, he did really good,” Stiles whispered to Peter. He was so tired. He was glad to be away from Theo, so relieved. But he was tired down to his bones. Tired of hurting, tired of being alone.
“I’ll tell him. I remember your dad, Noah was a good man,” Peter said softly.
Stiles blinked back tears as he finally met the gorgeous blue eyes of the wolf next to him. Something in his heart suddenly opened, grew, feeling more alive than ever before, even with the pain wracking his body. What was this feeling and why did it happen when he looked at Peter?
“Mine,” came the growl from next to him.
Stiles’ bruised and swollen eyes went wide as they could as he saw the werewolf, Peter Hale, eyes blood red, claiming him, Stiles, as his mate.
What the hell just happened?