chapter ten:
lost in the dark

"Nice timing," Garrett complimented with a smirk as I slowly rounded one of the buses in the empty lot, coming to a stop in front of him, a safe distance away. "You have three minutes to spare."

"Great." I gave him a false, tight-lipped smile. My nerves had risen to dangerous degrees of fear and I couldn't stop trembling, but underneath all my various layers of panic, I felt crashing waves of anger stirring like a looming storm. Liam had done nothing wrong. He didn't deserve this. And once I had him back, I was going to make Garrett pay. "Tell me what I have to do."

Garrett let out an easy laugh, tipping his head back against the bus he was leaning against as he looked up at the sky, twirling his bladed lacrosse stick in his hands. "It's not as simple as that, Joey," he began, his soft blue eyes lazily falling on me, like he was bored of the entire altercation. "Besides, we're still waiting on the third member of our little rescue team."

My expression was somewhere between exasperatedly confused and angrily incredulous. I swore a corner of my eye nearly started to twitch like Stiles'.

Garrett liked games and I wasn't in the mood to play.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, digging my manicured nails into my palms in an attempt to maintain control over my roller coaster of emotions. "Just stop with the games. I'll do whatever you want, Garrett. I just want Liam back."

"Ah, yes, little lover boy," Garrett mused. "I'm curious, Joey; how does Scott feel about his first beta fooling around with his baby sister?"

Despite the literal life-or-death circumstances, I blushed profusely and found myself crossing my arms in a defensive manner. "We're not, I mean we haven't—we haven't done anything," I stammered in a mumbled voice, looking down at my riding boots.

"You want to though, right?" Garrett guessed, his tone lowering. I bristled as he moved closer, gently brushing his fingers down my neck and over my shoulder. "You want Liam to show you all those parts of yourself you don't even know exist."

I swallowed at the sudden feeling of dryness in my throat, but before I could manage to find my voice to respond, Garrett abruptly twisted me around by the arm, swiftly pulling my back against his chest and positioning his lacrosse blade at my neck, immediately silencing my yelp of surprise.

My eyes widened at the sight of Scott standing across from us, his irises glowing red like fire as he glared at Garrett, his claws on full display.

"Come on, Scott," Garrett said. "Put those away. We're just going to talk."

"Let her go," Scott growled. "This wasn't our deal. I'm not going to help you if you hurt her."

"Deal?" I whispered. "What deal?"

"You see, this is the fun part," Garrett began. "I knew threatening Liam's life would be enough to persuade Scott to help me with one little task, but I just thought I needed a little extra insurance." I gasped as I felt the knife press into my skin with a bit more force. "You're my insurance, Joey—my insurance that your brother does what he's told."

Scott stepped closer, his eyes fading back to brown. "I already told you I would," he stated urgently. "What do you want? Do you want me to go to Stilinski? Or talk to my father? He's an FBI agent."

"You think I want you talking to anyone with a badge?" Garrett replied. "I'm not getting help from a werewolf because I want him to 'talk' to someone."

I could feel tears beginning to build behind my eyes and I looked at Scott with a desperate expression.

His gaze fell on the knife pressed against my neck before he returned his hardened eyes to Garrett. "Then what am I supposed to do?" Scott asked.

"They're transferring Violet to a federal facility," Garrett told him. "You're not going to let that happen." He tightened his grip on me and I whimpered in discomfort, squeezing my eyes shut. "Or I slice her throat open right here and neither of you see Liam again."

Scott glowered. "I'll do it," he said lowly. "I already told you I would."

"Good," Garrett said. "Because I stabbed your boy with a blade dipped in wolfsbane, and once it reaches the heart . . . bad things happen."

Hours later, long after the sun had disappeared beyond the forest and Beacon Hills was covered in a blanket of darkness, I found myself sitting in the backseat of Garrett's SUV with my hands duct-taped behind my back. We were parked on the side of the road, a few miles down from the police station. A dense fog had rolled in and moonlight was shining through the trees, illuminating the rain on the road. Garrett was settled in the driver's seat, watching in the rear-view mirror for a silhouette of Scott returning to the car.

"Your plan is ludicrous," I murmured, breaking the silence between us.

Garrett snorted in response. "I don't see you McCall's coming up with something better."

"We can talk to our father," I told him, reiterating Scott's earlier proposition. "Or the Sheriff—he'll understand. Nobody has to get hurt."

"How can you be a part of this world and still believe that?" he asked, turning to look at me with genuine curiosity in his eyes.

I hesitantly met his gaze. "Because Scott does," I replied. "This 'world' made him a predator—an animal whose nature is to kill, but he does the opposite. He doesn't use the supernatural abilities he's been given to hurt people, he uses them to save people."

Garrett was quiet for a moment, just looking at me with an unreadable expression, but before he could say anything, the passenger door was pulled open and Scott climbed in. Garrett faced forward once again and tossed a briefcase into Scott's lap.

I turned my eyes away, looking out the window, waiting for this nightmare to be over.

"This is not going to work," Scott muttered dubiously.

"All you have to do is stop the car," Garrett told him. "I'll take care of the rest."

Headlights shine up the road and we glanced back to see a Beacon Hills County Police SUV speeding by. Garrett turned the keys in the ignition and started the car before pulling out, following behind at an inconspicuous distance.

"There's a stop sign half a mile ahead," Garrett informed.

"So, I take out the tires . . . with my claws?" Scott asked, his disbelief for the idea clear in his tone.

"Teeth, claws, heat vision—whatever. Just stop them," Garrett answered. "Get ready."

Garrett hit the accelerator and as the car broke through the fog, my brown eyes widened at the sight of the Sheriff's SUV turned over on the road, a silhouette of a body lying on the concrete.

"Garrett, stop!" I exclaimed, beginning to struggle out of the duct-tape restraints binding my wrists.

"Stop the car!" Scott shouted urgently.

Garrett slammed on the breaks and the car squealed to a halt. Scott threw off his seat belt before taking off toward the accident and I ripped out of the duct-tape shortly after, pushing my way out of the car after my brother.

"Dad!" Scott called out, and I saw Sheriff Stilinski pulling our father from the SUV, making me quicken my pace.

Scott was already kneeling beside the two by the time I reached the group. Coming to a stop behind Scott, I bit my lip anxiously, my stomach knotting up with unease as I looked down at our unconscious father and the visibly injured Sheriff.

"Scott," he whispered, wincing in pain.

The sound of a car door slamming shut startled me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Garrett heading in our direction, his bladed lacrosse stick poised in a defensive position in front of him.

"She's not in the car—Violet's gone," Scott told him.

"Scott," Sheriff Stilinski said, his voice hoarse. "Scott, listen to me."

A cold gust of wind rushed by, whistling in the air and shaking the trees. I wrapped my arms around myself as my hair was blown over my shoulders and goosebumps rose on my skin.

"They're still here," the Sheriff whispered. "They're still here."

I drew my eyebrows together in confusion before a growl sounded from the line of trees along the road. I hesitantly turned in the direction of the chilling noise, only to meet a crescent-shaped claw striking the side of my face, sending my world spinning. I faintly heard Scott's voice yelling out to me before I became lost in the dark.

A dull, burning sensation centered on my cheek caused me to wrinkle my nose in discomfort. My head ached, and I groaned, pressing my hand to my forehead.

"I think she's waking up," I heard a familiar voice say, but in my current state, I wasn't able to place the voice with a person.

"Here—she'll need these for the pain."

I forced my eyes open, my lashes fluttering like a butterfly's wings as my bleary vision cleared and the room around me came into focus. The brick walls, x-ray machines, and various tables of medical tools told me I was in the animal clinic. I was in the lounge area, lying on the soft-cushioned couch.

I was surprised to see Brett directly in front of me, sitting on the wooden coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees. A glass of water was in one of his hands and two pills were in the other. He was shirtless, I might add, and I was having a hard time keeping my eyes away from the toned planes and ridges of his chest.

"The vet told me I should give these to you," he stated, watching me with attentive green eyes as I slowly sat up, running a hand through my chocolate-colored locks.

I noticed I was covered with a sweatshirt—I guessed as a make-shift blanket—and I turned the emerald green article of clothing over, reading the back. Talbot was printed in white letters above the number twenty-eight. It was Brett's.

"Um, thanks," I murmured uncertainly as he handed the items to me.

I downed the pills and then sat the glass of water on the square table beside the couch. Brett was still looking at me, and feeling more than a little self-conscious under his gaze, I looked away, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

"I make you nervous," Brett commented suddenly, causing my eyes to snap back to him. His expression was solemn—no hints of teasing or amusement. "Your heart is beating like crazy."

I couldn't argue because he was right. With the height and the muscle tone and the ridiculously good looks and the added supernatural werewolf abilities, I found Brett's presence quite intimidating.

"You're staring at me," I told him in defense, reprimanding myself for how small my voice sounded.

"I like looking at you," he responded easily, and while he held my eyes, I felt my cheeks turn a noticeable shade of pink. "You're different than I thought you would be."

"I wish I could say the same."

"I'm not the bad guy in this situation, Joey," he reminded me.

"You're not the nice guy, either," I replied, before pushing up from the couch and heading over to the mini fridge on the other side of the room for a bottle of water. I was well aware of the glass sitting beside me, but I needed an excuse to put some distance between myself and Brett.

I closed the fridge door and turned around, nearly colliding with Brett's chest. I gasped in surprise, the water bottle slipping from my grasp and hitting the floor with a thud.

Brett cocked his head to the side as he looked down at me with a curious expression. My breath caught in my throat as he reached out to gently touch the bandage on my cheek. "You have a pretty deep gash," he told me quietly, skimming his fingers down the side of my face and under my jaw. "I don't think it will scar, though."

I shivered as he pulled his hand away, a blush rising on my cheeks. "Oh, um," I trailed off, not knowing what to say. I hated how easy I was to fluster within a few seconds.

"I'm sorry about what happened at the scrimmage with Liam," Brett said suddenly, surprising me. "I'm not proud of the way I acted toward him."

"If you want to make things right," I began, "you should apologize to him, not me."

"Noted." He nodded. "Look, I have to find the rest of my pack. I was only supposed to stay until you woke up. Scott left a few hours ago with some hunter and the vet's in the back room."

"That 'vet' has a name."

"And I'm sure it's a nice one, but I really need to get out of here."

He moved away from me, heading back over to the couch, where he grabbed his sweatshirt and pulled it on before running a hand through his disheveled hair. He then continued around the room over toward the door at the front of the clinic.

"Here." He paused to toss my iPhone onto the metal operating table between us. "It's been buzzing non-stop for the past half an hour. You should probably check it. I'll see you around, Joey."

"Yeah, I'll see you around," I responded quietly, watching as he disappeared around the corner. The bell jingled, telling me he was gone, and I reached over for my phone, my eyes widening as I looked at it.

I had eight messages from Scott and twelve missed calls. Unlocking my screen, I opened the most recent text from my brother sent ten minutes ago.

Found Liam. On our way back to the animal clinic.

Relief flooded through me and I pressed my palms flat on the table, leaning against it for some support because I was afraid I was going to collapse from the weight of everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours.

"Joey, are you okay?" Deaton questioned in concern as he walked into the room, carrying a metal tray of something.

"I'm fine," I told him softly. "Scott found Liam. They should be here soon."

"I'll get the supplies ready," Deaton replied. "If he was poisoned with wolfsbane like Brett, he'll need it out of his system as soon as possible."

I nodded feebly. "Okay."

"Do you want to help? It might take your mind off things," Deaton offered.

Before I could reply, the jingling of a bell rang throughout the room, and without hesitation, I rushed out to the front of the animal clinic. I rounded the corner just as Liam walked through the door, Scott and Chris following close behind.

Liam met my eyes, and the expression of broken vulnerability on his face was all it took for me to push my way through the gate, throwing my arms around him. He immediately wrapped his arms around my waist in return and hugged me back tightly, nearly lifting my feet off the floor as he tucked his head into the curve of my neck.

Ignoring the coldness of his nose against my skin and the dampness of his clothes, I let him cling to me for as long as he needed, soaking up the comfort being in his arms provided. My body began to tremble and I hadn't even realized I was crying until I felt wetness on my cheeks.

I hid my face in Liam's chest as he gently ran a hand through my hair. "Hey, I'm okay, Joey," he whispered. "I promise."

I forced a choked laugh. "I'm supposed to be comforting you," I murmured. "Not the other way around."

I felt Liam's lips pull into a smile against my skin, and then his arms loosened around me, his body suddenly going limp.

"Liam?" I questioned frantically, struggling to support his weight.

He didn't respond, causing me to instinctively glance at my brother, my eyes wide with panic. Scott nodded reassuringly as he lifted one of Liam's arms around his shoulder, telling me without words everything was going to be okay. I willed myself to calm down as I supported Liam's other arm and we began to make our way back into the main room of the clinic. I stood back while Scott and Chris positioned Liam on the metal table.

Deaton was pulling on a pair of latex gloves by the sink, preparing himself for yet another incision. "Scott, would you mind turning the sign on the door to 'closed'?" he asked calmly, grabbing a scalpel. With a nod, my brother headed off and then Deaton glanced at me. "Joey, I need you to grab those scissors on the counter and cut this young man's shirt open."

"Um, o-okay," I stuttered, quickly retrieving the scissors as Deaton had instructed. I held Liam's shirt at the hem and began to cut up the center of the black material with trembling hands. His shirt fell open cut by cut, and aware of the eyes watching me, I tried not to admire the prominent V-line on Liam's hips or the light outline of abs on his stomach. I forced myself to concentrate, and when I was finished, I released a breath I didn't know I was holding as I stepped back from the table.

I discarded the remains of Liam's shirt in a nearby trashcan before moving to his side, resting my hands on his bicep as I watched Deaton cut into his chest, a yellow puff of smoke vaporizing into the air.

I cupped a side of Liam's jaw, gently running my thumb back and forth over his skin as I looked down at him in concern. "Is he going to be okay?" I asked quietly, my eyes flickering between Scott and Deaton, waiting for one of the two to give me answers.

"He should be." Deaton nodded. "Though I think he'll be out for a little while."

"How long?" Scott questioned before I could.

"Hard to tell," Deaton answered. "It could be anywhere from minutes to hours."

Scott shook his head. "I don't want to keep watching people die," he said, drawing the eyes and attention of everybody in the room toward him.

"I'm not sure you have much choice about that," Chris told him.

"Maybe I do," Scott muttered.

"That's a lot of burden to carry, Scott," Deaton warned him knowingly.

"I don't care. No one else dies," Scott decided valiantly, his eyes sweeping over everyone in the room. "Everyone on that list—everyone on that deadpool—it doesn't matter if they're wendigoes or werewolves or whatever . . . I'm going to save everyone."

Scott's dark eyes flickered to meet mine and the amount of determination in his expression reassured me of his promise.

"And I'll help you," I said, resting a gentle hand on his arm and giving him a small, encouraging smile.

Scott smiled small in return before his eyes found the clock on the opposite wall. "It's pretty late, Jo," he said. "We should probably head home."

I shook my head in denial of the suggestion, grabbing Liam's hand in my own. "I want to stay with him."

"Fine," Scott conceded with a sigh. "But only because you won't have school tomorrow since they're administrating the PSAT's." He walked around the table and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, bringing me in for a side hug as he pressed his lips to my forehead. "Be safe, okay?"

I looked up at him, nodding. "I will, I promise."

"Come on, Scott." Chris patted him on the shoulder. "I'll give you a lift home." He nodded once at me. "Goodbye, Joey."

"Bye, Chris," I replied.

I sighed, watching as two of the most influential men in my life exited the animal clinic, leaving me alone with Liam and Deaton.

"I can find you a chair," Deaton spoke up. "But I can't promise it'll be very comfortable."

I gave him a grateful smile. "Any chair would be fine, Deaton."

He nodded and left the room, returning just a moment later with a metal folding chair. I thanked him before he disappeared into the back room once more. Unfolding the chair I was given, I took a seat and pulled myself closer to Liam's side.

The hours ticked by in the deafening silence and I changed positions multiple times throughout the night—I even did some pacing around the room to fight off the drowsiness I began to feel—as the time lapsed by and Liam remained unconscious. The clock on the wall was nearing three in the morning when he finally started to stir on the table, causing me to sit straight up. His blue eyes fluttered open and he looked around in slight confusion until his gaze fell on me.

"Hi," I whispered, my lips lifting into a tentative smile.

"Hey," Liam replied softly, a gentle grin touching his face as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"Are you okay?" I inquired hesitantly, standing up to be more level with his height.

"I feel fine," he told me, looking a little perplexed by the fact. I guessed he wasn't used to the quick efficiency of supernatural healing abilities yet. "What happened?"

"You, um, you fainted," I explained. "And then we had to make an incision in your chest to release the wolfsbane. You've been unconscious for the past couple of hours."

"Have you been here the entire time?" he asked incredulously.

I nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

Liam stared at me for a moment, biting his lip slightly, before he slid off the table and gently pulled me into a hug. The unexpected action took me by surprise, but once I recovered, I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him back.

"Liam," I began softly, brushing a soothing hand up and down his back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled, burrowing his face into my neck like he had done earlier, his arms tightening around me more securely. "Just—give me a minute."

"Okay," I whispered.

While we stayed wrapped up in each other for the next couple of seconds, I tried to keep my heartbeat steady, but I found the task nearly impossible with the feeling of Liam's warm, bare chest pressed against me. His skin was soft beneath my touch, and as my hand continued to wander, I brushed my fingertips down Liam's spine. I felt him shiver at the sensation before he slowly pulled away from me, his blue eyes more vibrant than ever.

Liam looked over my face, his eyebrows furrowing. "What happened to your cheek?" he asked, brushing his thumb over the bandage covering the abrasion inflicted by the claw of one bat-shit-crazy Berserker.

I let out a long, tired sigh. "It's a long story, but I'll be alright."

"Okay, well, can you tell me what happened to my shirt?"

"I—um, I had to cut it off for Dr. Deaton to make the incision in your chest," I told him, suddenly unable to hold his eyes.

Liam's lips lifted into a smirk. "You took off my shirt?"

"I removed your shirt for medical purposes," I mumbled in correction, a blush flaring across my cheeks. I ducked my head and stared down at the chestnut riding boots I was wearing, hoping my dark chocolate hair would cover the way I was flushing as red as an apple.

"Joey." Liam slipped his fingers underneath my chin and tilted my head up, so I was forced to look into his blue eyes. "Thank you."

My eyebrows furrowed in faint confusion. "For . . . taking your shirt off?"

Liam chuckled softly and shook his head a bit, his thumb pulling slightly at my bottom lip. "No, for being here with me—for all you've done to help me. I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there, so thank you for not giving up on me."

My lips parted as I found myself at a loss for words.

Liam's hand moved to cup my cheek and I couldn't help but acknowledge the warmth spreading through me as his eyes—as bright and blue as the Pacific Ocean—wandered over every inch of my face before falling on my mouth. My heart thrummed as Liam leaned in toward me, his arm slipping around my waist to pull me closer. I instinctively brought my hands up to his shoulders to steady myself, my eyes fluttering shut as I felt Liam's lips brush over my own ever so slightly.

Then the bell above the door jingled for the third time that night as someone burst into the room.

x

A/N: Hooray for long chapters! But really, this was ten pages in Microsoft and over four-thousand words, so I hoped you enjoyed it! I also hope you're excited that Liam has returned! You guys asked for fluff, so I gave you fluff. And a cliffhanger (sorry about that). Also, I apologize for being three days late on this chapter, but it's better than being three months late, in my opinion. Plus, this chapter was a bit difficult to write.

Anyway, what did you think of this chapter? I had lots of interactions going on, with Garrett and then Brett and then Liam. Who do you think walked in on Joey and Liam? And what did you think of that little almost kiss?

As always, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter and everyone who continues to read this story! I love reading your opinions and comments, they really motivate me to keep writing and I take into consideration the things you say. This story has reached 300 favorites and almost 40k reads, which is ridiculous! I just want to show my gratitude for all my lovely readers :)

So, drop a review, let me know what you think, and I'm aiming to have the next chapter up by Sunday, the night before season five premieres!