The flight back felt like a blur to Stiles. Her body still sore, holes aching, thighs bruised, lips swollen—her whole body a map of the filth she had gone through. Captain McCall had been strangely gentle with her, not using her this time, just patting her ass, whispering that she did well. But the moment she stepped into her apartment, she froze.

Derek was there. Sprawled lazily on her couch, legs spread wide, looking like he owned the place.