CHARACTERS ARE MINE, STORYLINE IS MINE. DO NOT STEAL. I WILL FIND YOU.

Hey guys! So I tried to make this chapter a little longer, due to a lot of requests. It's really hard for me to do so, since I've always been taught to right to the point and it's just become my style. Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter! I took the story in a little twist direction, so I hope you enjoy. Please, plot suggestions are always welcome, and reviews are what keep me going! Oh, and would werewolves vs vampires be too cliche? I think maybe, but I really want my readers' opinions!

Chapter song is Past Praying For by VersaEmerge and Long, Long Time Ago from the Pan's Labyrinth Soundtrack, but mainly Oh Death by Jen Titus.

I was the only one left in the ballroom. Dinner had finished in silence, and the others had exited to parlor to say their farewells. Liam had been directed by his grandmother to walk me to the room with the others, but he just stood, leaving with the crowd. I sat alone, the only one among the vast rows of chairs.

My heart began to sink. Married? To Liam?

I started to blink back tears, the realization setting in. It was almost as if I had just had an epiphany – it all started to make sense. I wanted home. I wanted America. I wanted to date. I wanted someone who loved me – I wanted my family.

They had abandoned me, though. I shook my head violently, crossing my arms as I began sinking lower and lower into the extravagant chair, stroking the floral designs etched into the wood of the arm rest, deep in thought.

They had flown me to another country, dropped me off like I was a bag of trash, and left me with strangers - specifically, a stranger I was destined to marry.

Was I some kind of 'debt relief' plan? Someone equivalent to a couple dollar bills?

I swallowed. Moana Marie Doubek.

"Well … that doesn't look like a happy face."

I snapped my head around in a flash, spotting a familiar sight. Thomas stood behind me, both his hands resting upon the back of my hair, his weight leaning against it. He had a charming smile spread across his face, but concern spread across the surface of his eyes. I instantly sat up – I wasn't the type to let people see me cry.

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

I adjusted myself in my seat so I could face him, brushing my hair out of my face. I forced a giggle. "I'm … just really … - "

"Confused?" he asked.

I nodded. "Exactly."

He light brushed his golden hair out of his eye with great ease, plopping himself into the seat next to me, crossing his legs and casually leaning back. "Perhaps," he paused, "I could be of some assistance?"

"Then," I stated playfully, "tell me, oh Thomas, what in bloody hell is going on?"

He smirked. "A little thing called primitive practices."

"Hmm, more specific please."

He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his eyebrows, grinning. "There's not much more to say. You plus Liam equals love."

I allowed the biggest expression of sarcasm possible to overcome my face. "Love?"

He chuckled. "Well, marriage at least."

I was silent.

"It's … not that bad." His grin faded when he say that my eyes had begun to water. I fought the urge to allow tears to stream down my face. He avoided eye contact, gazing at the floor. "But then again, I've got Ann, not a nasty motherfucker like Liam."

And for the first time since I had arrived in Slovenia, I let out a genuine laugh.

"Why me?" I asked, a smirk still wide across my face.

He shrugged. "I just know it was agreed upon before you both were born. I'm not positive of the details."

"Well, at least my family wasn't aware he was a total asshole."

"Between you and me," Thomas snickered, "Ann isn't exactly a ball of sunshine either."

"Liam said something about 'slutty'?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not exactly complaining about that."

"Then what exactly are you talking about?"

"I think you'll find out in good time …" he trailed off.

I laid back in my chair, crossing my legs and resting my head. I solemnly listen to the echo of Thomas' voice flood the ballroom, bouncing off the marble. I had never realized how creepy the house was until now. Neither of us spoke until the voice faded, and I gazed over at him, my eyebrow peaked. "So about Liam?"

"The 'literal' son of a bitch?" he asked. "What about him?"

"Is he really like that?"

"Like what?"

"The embodiment of Satan?"

Thomas chuckled. "Let's just say the Devil would make a much better groom."

"His eyes …" I stated.

"He's an unwell young man." He frowned.

"Unwell?" My smirk faded.

"He's dying, but his family is In the process of fixing it."

"His family? If he's dying, he needs to see a doctor."

"Let's just say … his family has a cure that no doctor could compare to," he said. "But only if they feel he's worthy of it … which they're border line about." He roughly stood, using his chair as leverage. Reaching down, he smoothed the wrinkles from his pants and shirt, adjusting his emerald tie into place. He extended his arm in my direction. I gladly took hold, standing up myself. He grinned. "Enough about him, though. What about you?"

"What about me?" I asked, fixing the ruffles in my dress. I slowly, pushed in my chair, not taking my eyes off Thomas.

"Well, Miss Moana, how are you so unbelievably beautiful?"

I paused, taken back. I watched his eyes look me up and down. I urgently pulled up the top of my dress. "Thank you?"

"I enjoyed having this conversation," he smiled, moving in for a hug. I didn't move.

At that moment, the doors to the ballroom swung open with a loud and shattering thud. Thomas immediately halted his attempt to wrap me in his arms, taking a giant step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. My head bolted around. Liam was standing in the gaping doorway, nothing but the dim lighting from the hall behind him.

Instantly, I noticed his eyes were not focused on me, but instead on Thomas, glaring at him with a cold stare. I felt tension overwhelm me as their eyes met, and my sight jumped to what my 'fiancé' was wearing. Muddy boots covered his feet, worn black pants tucked into them. His torso was covered with a heavy coat, much like one would imagine a boarding school student wearing – beneath it I could see the red tie and white button up he was wearing earlier at the celebration. I glared at him, up and down, my vision landing on what he gripped in his hand.

A rifle.

I watched the two boys keep their gaze, feeling like I had landed dead in the middle of a western. The room was silent for what seemed like decades, until Liam spoke. "Leave," he said to the man standing next to me. Thomas didn't move.

"What do you want?" Thomas questioned, folding his arms as he stood firmly in his place.

Liam lifted the gun, panic shooting up my spine. "Moana and I are going hunting." He repeated, "Leave."

I could see Thomas jump slightly, obviously noticing the gun for the first time. Urgency filled his face, his eyes bolting from me to Liam. I heard him grinding his teeth, even from the distance I was at. He clenched his jaw, speaking through his teeth. "I'm not going to let what happened last time happen again."

"Don't tell me what to do," Liam stated firmly but with a stoic nature. "This is my house, leave."

Thomas smirked as he started briskly towards the door, his feet hitting the ground with force as his footsteps echoed throughout the room; he walked with anger. Reaching Liam, he stopped, staring him right in the eye. "It won't be for much longer, Doubek," he mumbled, having to slightly look up to maintain eye contact with Liam. He continued, "Just remember that."

Liam smirked in a sick and malicious manner.

Thomas started once again for the door, his head turning back over his shoulder to face me. "Watch your back," he said simply, and then continued to exit the room. The doors slammed behind him.

Our eyes met, my slight panic increasing as he kept the gun in my direction. I swallowed, trying my best to hide the fear he had suddenly forced upon me. "Liam."

"Moana," he stated bluntly, lowering his gun. He started towards me at a slow pace.

"My name is Molly." I stood completely still.

"Molly is a dog's name," he mocked, reaching the halfway point between us. "Your name is Moana now."

"You don't control what my name is," I sneered, feeling the heat accumulate in my forehead.

"I think I do, at least what I call you." He stood in front of me, our faces barely two inches apart. "Do you have a coat?"

"At the cottage," I said bluntly, searching through my mind for a comeback, until I remembered the gun. "Perhaps your grandmother has one I could borrow?"

"You'll go without," he said, grabbing my arm. I immediately noticed his grip was firm but gentle, and in a weak manner. He's dying, flashed through my mind. Before I could say anything, he began to pull me towards the hall.

I found myself once again in the front yard of the mansion, snow falling softly on my bare skin as I followed Liam around the center fountain and back towards the road I had been abandoned on, the forest growing thicker and thicker with every step. The bitter wind began to pick up, chilling me to the bone. I began to shiver as Liam looked back over his shoulder at me, rolling his eyes.

"Can you climb?" he asked, leading us off the path into the woods.

"I can hold my ground," I lied, knowing nothing about climbing. I was a dancer, not a hiker.

He was quiet for a moment as we trudged through the snow. "Stay away from Thomas," he suddenly muttered.

I got a momentary sense of courage. "No."

"Yes."

"He's the only one that's actually had enough respect to fill me in on at least some of the things going on here."

"It's better you don't know."

"That I don't know I'm getting married?"

Liam was silent.

I continued, "And that the boy I'm marrying is dying?"

Liam stopped dead in his tracks. "Who told you that?" he growled.

It was my turn to be silent as regret caused my heart to pound.

"Who told you that?" he reiterated, his usually passionless voice growing imperative, with a sense of burning anxiety.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Who told you?"

"I think I had the right to know."

He was quiet for what seemed like an eternity as he stood in front of me, his eyes on the snow covered ground. Guilt encouraged me to speak, but I kept as silent as possible. Finally, he spoke, "Leukemia." He paused for a moment. "If everyone has their way, I won't make it to our wedding day."