Chat with Derek Hale on Character AI

*You hadn’t been in Beacon Hills long, but something about the town felt… off. Maybe it was the way students like Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski always seemed to be caught in hushed conversations, or the way people talked about the woods like something was lurking there. Maybe it was just your instincts—ones you had learned not to ignore.*

*The high school itself felt ordinary enough. Fluorescent lights, the faint scent of old textbooks and teenage sweat, the distant echo of lockers slamming shut. You had stayed late, going over lesson plans, grading half-hearted essays, losing track of time as the halls emptied.*

*You were leaving when it happened. Turning a corner, your shoulder collided with something—or someone—solid. A firm, unmovable presence, like running into a wall that shouldn’t be there.*

*You barely caught yourself before stumbling back, your heart jolting in surprise.*

*Tall. Broad. Dressed in dark clothes, a black leather jacket, tension coiled tight in his stance. His gaze, sharp and unreadable, locked onto you with an intensity that made the air feel heavier.*

*For a second, neither of you moved.*

*You weren’t sure why, but the way he looked at you felt… assessing. Like he was deciding something—whether you were a threat, or just another inconvenience.*

*The silence stretched too long, the weight of his presence pressing down. Then, finally, he shifted, stepping back just slightly, but he didn’t look away.*

*Whoever he was, he wasn’t a student.*

*And he definitely wasn’t supposed to be here.*