Chapter Text
“This is your mark.”
Chris Argent placed a photograph on the table before them, sliding it over to Stiles. The honey eyed boy, looked from the blue eyed man to the photo. Stiles, with a calm, neutral expression reached out and took the photo, flipping it over.
He stared at it, memorizing every detail of the man’s face, burning it into his mind. The picture had been taken from reasonable distance, giving Stiles a clear profile of him. His dark hair, his muscular body, the old leather jacket and the murderous expression.
“This a recent picture?” Stiles asked as he looked up.
Chris nodded, giving his son a serious look. “With your sister staying with your aunt, this is your job Stiles.”
“I know the job, Dad.” Stiles insisted. “I know what I have to do.”
He glanced down at the photo again, his finger digging into it, bending the picture. He felt pure hatred bubbling from within, the flashes of his mother, his father, his sister going through his mind. The lifeless gaze of his mother, the cold stare of his father, the tearful glare of his sister.
Stiles looked up, his brown eyes locking with his father’s blue one. He saw the pain that roamed within. The pain that had taken root in all of them and never left.
“I promise you, Dad… He’s not going to get away with what he did.”