Liam didn't want to run. He didn't want to abandon Brett and Lori; to incriminate them or himself. But he could barely scrounge together the consciousness to assemble that thought. Everything was rage and fear and the stench of poisoned blood on tarmac. With the after-image of headlights in his eyes, he bolted.
The woods enveloped him, darker, colder than the outside; comforting in that he was hidden. He put distance between himself and the road, his heart hammering. Once every direction looked the same, once there was no sign of the lights and people, he stopped.
They'd killed Brett.
They'd killed Brett and Lori and in that moment, Liam had gone from an IED to a goddamn warhead. He'd outed them all.
This time, when his claws dug into his palms, he reveled in the pain. It felt like justice.
He looked up through the treetops.
Brett was dead and the stars had the gall to shine on.
Rage bubbled up in him all over again, volcanic and seething, building on itself.
He'd been the one who had howled. Set everything into motion. Pushed the domino that would bring their whole world crashing down.
There was no other word for it than burning , a sea of rage that scorched through every cell of his body, twisting in his gut and pounding in his veins. The air stank with the scent of his blood, the sensation of claws biting deep in his hands and finding bone—overwhelming, blinding, animal anger, because Brett was dead and everything was over and it was every bit his fault.
There was fire in his lungs as he screamed at the sky, blood hot on his hands.
The skin across his knuckles met bark. Split.
Bone and wood splintered.
A rhythm emerged, of impact and pain, the backlash that he needed, deserved- because nobody else would punish him. Nobody else would come near him, after tonight- they'd be scared-
His pulse in his ears drowned out the sound of footsteps, morphed the soft call of his name into a dull, wordless ring-
But then there was a hand on his shoulder. On his wrist. The proximity of another body, bigger, warmer, safe.
Scott.
Scott, pulling Liam's hands back, eyes red, a gentle, silent form of restraint.
"The sun," he said, quietly. Liam fought against his grip, panic clashing with anger in his chest.
"The moon," there was no air in Liam's lungs; just the sting of drowning. He couldn't take a breath.
"The truth," Scott made eye contact, and he wasn't even growling ; where was the threat? "Liam, I know you can do this. The sun…"
Liam choked for air, shame bleeding in from the edges of his perception- he'd disappointed Scott-
"The-" his hands were shaking in his alpha's grip, blood-slicked, broken fingers trembling. "Moon."
Scott's face lit up, with the slight, strained hope he could find at a time like this.
"The truth…" they said it in sync, and everything was suddenly easier.
"The sun," Liam found the atmosphere again, like breaching the surface of the sea. "The moon. The truth."
Pain. A rush of it, no longer staunched by rage.
"The sun, the moon-" There were tears, Liam realised, pouring down his cheeks, dripping from his chin. He felt like a toddler throwing a tantrum, grotesquely vulnerable and raw."The truth-"
His ragged breathing shifted, warped. Became sobbing.
Shame swelled within him.
He was a monster. A murderer. And he was crying about it.
Scott's eyebrows drew together. His hands moved, from holding Liam back to holding him close, bringing him into his chest.
Quickly, the negativity began to melt away, overcome by something primal but positive. Scott, alpha, Scott, Scott, Scott- the warmth and power of him, the bigger-stronger-safer scent, like being picked up by a parent.
Scott smelled hurt, still. Blood and gore and the inside of a gut wound, underscoring the powerful warmth.
God, he'd gone so far for them. And this was the payment he got, from his rabid brat of a beta.
Liam let his forehead rest on Scott's shoulder. His hands were still shaking; the bone clicking as it began to heal. Scott was rubbing his back, he realised. Small, soothing circles between his shoulder blades, his hand perfectly steady as Liam sniffled and hiccupped.
Scott wasn't his anchor. But he was his alpha. And right now, that was enough.
There were no more words, after that. Not for a while. They walked back in unbroken contact, Scott's arm around his shoulders.
Liam couldn't stop crying. He never cried, not like this- he got angry. This was an unfamiliar form of breakdown, the choked-off breathing and shaky sobs, the loss of this particular sort of control. But Scott was there. Scott was the only person in the world who could see him bawling like a baby.
They were already touching, but it was all too tenuous; like he could still be pulled away.
There were no words to Liam's thoughts, now. He was too drained by his own outburst, by everything that had happened. There was nothing but warm, soft static. He was divorced from reality, until Scott spoke.
"I think I might have to re-break your fingers." he said, softly. It was the tone one used to talk to a little kid, too gentle, not quite banking on being understood.
"Oh," Liam forced his breathing to be steady. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Scott stated it, simply. "It's not your fault. With Hayden moving, and everything else…"
He waved his free hand vaguely, as if to articulate the shitstorm that had been their lives.
"I'm still sorry." Liam lacked the energy to articulate it properly- Scott was the only thing keeping him upright, keeping him together. He hurt , in every way he understood to be possible. "I'm- fuck - you shouldn't have to deal with this."
"No, no, no," Scott soothed. "Don't worry."
Liam didn't, because it was easier not to. He focused on staying close to Scott, as if enough proximity could make him feel like less of a monster.
He wondered how Scott could look at him with anything but revulsion.
His house was empty when they got back, luckily. His parents couldn't see this.
"Stay here for a second, ok?" Scott pushed him into a chair at the kitchen table, and returned with a first aid kit they probably wouldn't need.
While Scott was gone, Liam was alone with his thoughts.
What had the alpha been pulled away from to babysit him?
The sheer uselessness was crushing. There was nothing as unpleasant as knowing he'd ruined everything.
In the present, Scott cleaned the blood off his mangled fingers with alcohol wipes.
"You might want to close your eyes for this one," he warned.
"I've seen worse," Liam said, quietly. He didn't want to look immature on top of everything else.
Scott just looked worried.
"If you say so." He shrugged, before gripping Liam's index finger and bending it backwards. The click as it broke made Liam flinch, but it didn't sting, not like it should.
The veins on Scott's hands stood out, dark.
" Scott ." To his embarrassment, Liam's voice cracked. "Don't. I can handle it."
Scott tugged Liam's finger, and the bones fell back into place. He splinted it with surgical tape and a popsicle stick.
"I don't think you need to be in any extra pain right now," he said.
The honesty was irritating. The coddling was irritating. Like Liam couldn't handle a reasonable reaction.
"I thought you were going to be mad at me." Liam was suddenly aware of how pathetic he sounded. "Why aren't you mad at me?"
"Liam," Scott said with a sigh. "How about we have some food, and sleep on it? I think you'll feel better in the morning."
"But-" Liam raised a hand to protest, and found all his fingers splinted.
"Look." Scott laid a hand on his shoulder, and the world went warm and fuzzy again. "I understand that you feel like crap. And you're probably not the most rational right now, because you feel like crap. But I also understand that grilled cheese sandwiches can't exactly make things worse."
When Scott was done painlessly- for Liam - realigning his fingers, Liam folded his arms on the table, and laid his head down.
"I'm a monster ," he mumbled.
"Are you a monster that wants a grilled cheese?" Scott asked, opening the fridge.
Liam tilted his head, peeked out over his blood-smudged arm to look at him.
"Fine," he mumbled.
Grilled cheese wouldn't fix this. But Scott being there took the edge off, just a little.