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Summary
Now Lydia sees the white room clearly, Stiles sitting cross-legged on the nemeton in his lacrosse jersey, squinting at a chessboard.
That’s when Lydia realizes her vantage point makes her Stiles’ opponent — and she has him in check.
Her instinct is to push her own king into danger, but Stiles grabs her wrist. “Come on, Lydia,” he says dryly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Chess might not be your game, but surely you know that’s against the rules.”
Lydia tries to squirm away from him. “But you’ll die,” she insists, his grip tightening so much she’s certain his long fingers will leave bruises.
“Say it, Lydia,” Stiles urges. “Checkmate. Checkmate. Checkmate — ”
*
Five months after the nogitsune tears through Beacon Hills, Stiles' humanity leaves the McCall pack vulnerable. Post-3B.