chapter fourteen:
drunken lacrosse jocks

The world around me seemed to slow as Scott and I skidded to a stop outside the wire fence surrounding the dusty and abandoned courtyard of Oak Creek. On the other side of the chain-link barrier, an Oni—a supernatural demon designed to kill dark spirits—had just plunged a sword through my brother's first love and my best friend.

A strangled cry left my throat, my breath catching and my heart stopping as I watched the Oni pull the sword from Allison's body. I knew—I knew by the way Isaac sank to his knees, by the desperate way Kira and her mother held onto each other, by the look on Scott's face—I knew this was the end.

Allison swayed unsteadily on her feet, and suddenly my brother was pushing through the gate, cradling her into his arms as she fell to the ground.

I wanted to move, I wanted to rush to Allison's side, but I couldn't. My blood had run cold and every muscle in my body had locked up as I stood paralyzed, tears racing down my cheeks as I listened to Scott's pleading voice.

"Allison, please don't. Allison—don't. Please. Allison, no. No!"

I watched in horror, a wracked sob escaping my lips, as her hand touching Scott's face suddenly went limp and fell to the concrete as she drew her last breath.

"Allison!"

My eyes abruptly snapped open as Lydia's shrill scream pierced through my dream and rang in my ears, startling me awake. My frantic heartbeat and shortened breath calmed considerably as Mason's concerned face came into focus in front of me. My confused gaze scanned my surroundings, and as I noticed all the empty desks around me, I drew the conclusion I'd slept through my entire fourth period class.

"Joey," Mason spoke firmly, drawing my attention back to him. He was watching me with worried eyes. "Are you okay?"

Blinking up at him for a moment, I tried to collect myself. "I'm, um, j-just a bit tired."

Running a hand through my hair, I abruptly pushed up from my desk and gathered my belongings before heading toward the door of the economics classroom with Mason in tow.

"Are you sure?" I heard him question from behind me as I entered the bustling hallway full of Beacon Hills students and turned in the direction of my locker.

I nodded distractedly, my mind reeling as Mason continued to ramble beside me.

It was Friday—meaning five days had passed since I'd suffered a panic attack on the roof of the hospital, also meaning I'd gone five days without sleeping properly as I endlessly tossed and turned throughout the night with images of Allison's death playing on a loop in my head.

I didn't know when the dreams and the flashbacks would stop—I didn't know what to do to make them stop. All I knew was that seeing Liam being attacked by the Berserker had in some way triggered those traumatizing memories I'd managed to store away for the last two months and now I was practically drowning in a sea of my own insanity.

"Joey, are you even listening to me?" Mason questioned as we came to a stop at my locker.

I shook my head in hopes of clearing my thoughts and gave him an apologetic glance as I put my economics textbook away. "I'm sorry, Mase." I sighed. "I'm just feeling a little distracted lately."

"Yeah, no kidding," he responded as he leaned against the locker beside mine and crossed his arms over his chest. "You've been acting weird all week—you and Liam. Did something happen between you two? Is that why you're both being so edgy?"

I paused in the process of trying to wedge a notebook from between my English and algebra books. "Liam's acting weird?" I questioned, suddenly feeling my own worries get pushed to the back of my mind.

Mason jokingly rolled his eyes. "I can't believe that's all you got out of that."

"Mason," I pressed.

He sighed. "Yes, he's acting weird," he told me. "Especially this morning when I was talking to him about the bonfire. He was all anxious and jumpy and falling all over himself. He looks like he hasn't slept in days—just like you, by the way—leading me to believe something's happened between you two. So, out with it."

My eyes widened. "O-Out with it?" I repeated, focusing my attention back on my locker. "Out with what exactly?"

Mason tilted his head to the side as he shot me a you-know-exactly-what-I'm-talking-about look. "Come on, Joey," he began. "The entire school knows Liam has a thing for you. Why do you think all the guys in our grade haven't stepped within a foot of you since he transferred here? Liam's the jealous type and they don't want to end up with black eyes."

"That is not true, Mason," I denied, looking at himrather reproachfully for insinuating such a thing about his best friend.

"I'm serious," he said with a light laugh. "Liam wouldn't hesitate to hit a guy over you—which is why you should probably be careful at the bonfire tonight. Drunken lacrosse jocks have the tendency to be handsy."

Instead of wondering how Mason knew this, I raised an eyebrow at him. "And who said I'm coming to the bonfire? I'm not really a fan of crowds, Mase. Or alcohol. Or big masses of fire, for that matter." I shook my head as I closed my locker. "This just has bad written all over it."

"Oh, you're coming," Mason declared, paying no attention whatsoever to the grimace on my face. "I'm going to find myself a lacrosse player and you're going to be my wing woman."

"Mason—"

"And we're going to get you drunk."

"I am not—" the bell rang, cutting off my protest, causing Mason to smirk in triumph and give me a light pat on the shoulder before walking off to his next class.

I stared after him in amusement for a moment, wondering how on earth Mason and I were friends when we were so obviously different, before I shook the thought away and started down the hall toward my creative writing class.

I was only a few steps away when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Stopping off to the side of the corridor so I wouldn't be in the way of other students, I slid my phone from my ripped skinny jeans. I glanced down at the device, my eyes widening slightly in surprise as a text from Liam flashed across the screen.

I had been rather distant with him since the night at the hospital. Not only was I utterly embarrassed by what happened, but the nightmares and constant flashbacks of Allison's death were holding my mind hostage, keeping my thoughts away from Liam over the past several days. He had called a few times, tried talking to me in class, and tracked me down in the halls, but I'd dodged his attempts to reach out to me each time. Though I knew he was worried about me, I didn't want to drag him down any farther into the depths of my mess.

Feeling a sudden ache in my heart I recognized as longing, I unlocked my screen and opened his message.

Can we talk? I'm at the stairs by Coach's office.

Without pausing to think about the repercussions of skipping one of my classes, I quickly tucked my phone away and turned on the small heels of my riding boots, heading back in the direction I had come from. Coach's office was only two halls over, and I felt my heartbeat accelerate as I found Liam, sitting on the stairs exactly where he said he'd be—the same set of stairs where we'd first met. It was crazy to think about everything that had happened between then and now. Things had changed so much.

Holding my books close to my chest, I approached Liam slowly, knowing something was wrong just by looking at him. His head was bowed and his eyebrows were furrowed in a pensive expression as he fiddled with the strings of his lacrosse stick.

I knew a nervous habit when I saw one.

Liam glanced up at me as I came to a stop in front of him.

"Hi," I greeted uncertainly, my throat feeling dry all of a sudden.

"Hey," he responded in a quiet voice as he lowered his blue eyes back to his lacrosse stick. I waited patiently for him to say something more as I watched a battle of different emotions cross his face. "You—um, you can sit if you want," he eventually told me, giving me another brief glance as he gestured to the empty space beside him.

Biting my lip, I nodded and placed my belongings on the floor near his backpack before sitting next to him.

His eyes returned to his stick, and I studied him for a moment, noticing the way his hands trembled as he continued to fidget with the strings. Tentatively, I reached out and placed my hand on top of his, stopping his anxious movements. Liam was still for a moment before I felt his fingers curl around mine as his tense posture seemed to relax some.

"Liam," I said softly, causing him to look at me, his crystal blue eyes finally holding my gaze for more than a second. "Talk to me."

Liam released a small breath, his eyes falling on my hand as he tightened his grip on it ever so slightly. "Last night . . . my printer went off by itself. I-I couldn't turn it off," he explained. "I hit the cancel button and it . . . it just kept printing."

"Printing what?" I questioned hesitantly.

With the hand that wasn't holding onto mine, Liam placed his lacrosse stick on the floor before reaching into the back pocket of his light jeans and pulling out a slip of paper. He bit his lip as he handed it to me, and I gave him a weary glance in return, gently withdrawing my hand from his grasp to unfold it.

I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear as I looked down at the piece of paper, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. It was one of the thirds to the deadpool.

Why would Liam's printer be making copies of this?

"What the hell is this?" Finstock's voice suddenly boomed from down the hall.

Liam and I shared a look before we both pushed up from the stairs to head over to the outside of Coach's office. My eyes widened at the mess of papers scattered on the floor, more sheets flying out of Coach's printer one after the other as he smacked different buttons, trying to turn it off.

This couldn't be a coincidence.

Liam—who was mostly likely thinking the same thing I was—gave me another glance before he leaned into Coach's office and swiped one of the papers from the floor. Standing back up, Liam grabbed my wrist, pulling me away before either of us could be noticed by Finstock, and handed me the paper he retrieved.

"Do you see the difference?" Liam asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched me examine the two copies of the deadpool.

"Derek's not on the list anymore," I murmured.

"That's not all," Liam responded, and hearing the unease in his voice, I looked up at him. With an expression of worry spreading across his face, he gestured back to the list, and I returned my eyes to the papers, searching for another difference.

Once I found the one Liam was surely referring to, my pulse began to quicken at an alarmingly fast rate. "You're not worth three million anymore," I stated quietly as I raised my gaze to his.

"It's eighteen now," he finished. "Eighteen million dollars."

I felt panic rush through my veins almost instantly. With the new amount added to his name, Liam was the third highest price on the list after Scott and Lydia, meaning his life was in more danger now than ever before.

And suddenly, all I could think about was Liam's fate ending the same as Allison's.

"Hey, nothing's going to happen to me, Joey," Liam spoke gently, his arms circling my waist as he pulled me closer, drawing me into a hug. "I'm okay."

I sighed and wound my arms around his neck, letting his warmth comfort me. Liam undoubtedly gave the best hugs. "But you don't have to be," I told him softly, causing Liam to pull away slightly with a small frown on his face. "You don't have to be the strong one all the time," I elaborated. "It's okay to let yourself feel scared."

His eyebrows furrowed faintly. "I can't be scared and protect you at the same time."

"I'm not the one who needs protection right now," I argued. "And besides, that's a lot of responsibility for one person to bear."

"I don't care," Liam stated with a look of determination. "Scott told me a lot of things that night we spent at the lake house—he told me he's so overprotective of you because of all the people who used you to hurt him in the past." I found my gaze falling to the floor as I remembered Peter, Gerard, Deucalion, the twins, and all the others who had threatened my life at some point or another while trying to get to Scott. "You don't have to be supernatural for your life to be in danger—you just have to know someone who is. And in case you haven't noticed, Joey, you know a lot."

"I've noticed, Liam," I mumbled.

"Hey." Liam cupped my cheek, tilting my chin up toward him. "Look at me. I'll never let someone hurt you like that again. I'm going to protect you, Joey."

"We'll protect each other," I decided in a soft voice.

Liam let out a small smile before he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. I grasped onto his shoulders to keep myself balanced and tentatively kissed him back. My movements were still a bit hesitant and uncertain, but in my defense, I didn't have much experience in the romantic area. Liam, however, didn't seem to mind. He tilted his head for a better angle and pushed his lips against mine with more force, his hands tangling in my chocolate locks.

I loved kissing Liam—I loved how soft his lips felt, the warmth that spread through my body, the butterflies in my stomach, and how safe he made me feel.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" We heard Coach shout, followed by more sounds of him assaulting his printer, startling us enough to pull away from each other. My cheeks reddened as I realized he had only been a short distance away the entire time and could have easily walked out of his office at any moment to see me and Liam.

That was the last thing I needed.

"There are only a few minutes left this period," Liam said, glancing at the clock over my head. "We should probably go find Scott."

"Yeah—um, o-okay," I stammered in agreement, my mind still slightly clouded by his blissful kiss.

Raising an amused eyebrow, Liam smirked and held his hand out to me. I accepted his hand with a small smile and allowed Liam to intertwine our fingers before we headed off to find Scott.

"Has he kissed you?"

"Lydia," I groaned in complete and utter discomfort from the passenger seat of her Corolla.

I covered my face with my hands, hoping to hide the blush flaring across my cheeks as I wondered why each of my friends felt the need to ask me uncomfortable questions about Liam. It was like they enjoyed watching me squirm and turn into a stammering mess. I'd been in the car for all of a minute when Lydia began interrogating me, instantly making me regret my decision to ask the strawberry-blonde for a ride to the bonfire.

Lydia hummed in delight. "He has," she deduced, the edges of her pink lips quirking into a small smile. "Was it good?"

A squawk-like noise sounded from behind us as Stiles scrambled forward to poke his head between our seats. "Excuse you?"

"Oh, my God," I muttered, biting down on my fist to keep from letting a mortifying detail slip as I turned to look out the window, feeling an overwhelming amount of embarrassment.

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles' typical behavior as she turned onto the road leading toward the high school. "Being attracted to a member of the opposite sex is perfectly normal for a girl Joey's age, Stiles," she stated matter-of-factly.

I could see Stiles' eye twitching in the reflection of the window as he stared at the strawberry-blonde in disbelief. "Lydia, I swear—"

"Oh, look! We're here!" I exclaimed as the blazing, cyclone-shaped fire came into view, burning bright against the dark background of the Beacon Hills sky.

Lydia pulled her Corolla to a stop on the outskirts of the bonfire and shifted the car into park.

I felt my stomach begin to flip with a familiar sense of anxiety, my heart pounding a little faster as I studied the rowdy environment in front of me, my wide eyes taking in the masses upon masses of wild teenagers.

Lydia placed a hand on my shoulder in a comforting gesture. "You'll be fine, Joey," she assured. "Go find Liam and have some fun."

I tried to force a smile onto my face as I glanced back at Lydia before pushing my way out of the car, shutting the door behind me.

"Um, hey, no—not too much fun!" Stiles called, sticking his head out the window.

I watched in amusement as Lydia reached back and grabbed him by the collar of his plaid shirt, pulling him back into the car. The strawberry-blonde then rolled up the window, muffling Stiles' sounds of protest, and gave me a departing wave before she drove off down the road.

I stared after them for a moment, shaking my head at the pair's antics. I still didn't understand why they never dated.

Taking a deep breath, I swallowed my fears and turned to face the party. I began to weave through the crowd surrounding the bonfire, my hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of my skirt as I searched for a familiar face. My gaze found Malia's, causing my eyes to widen before I abruptly turned around, intending to head in the opposite direction. I hadn't seen the were-coyote since the day of the PSATs nearly a week ago, and though Malia had tried many times to contact me, I never responded to her attempts. No matter how much I missed my friend, I was too ashamed of what I'd done to bring herself to talk to her.

In the midst of another evasion tactic, I yelped in surprise when I suddenly came face-to-face with Malia.

"Stop avoiding me," she stated, blocking my path each time I tried to step around her.

"I'm not—"

"Joey." Malia gave me a flat look.

"Okay, so I might be avoiding you," I admitted sheepishly. "A little. Maybe."

Malia's eyebrows furrowed. "Why? Because of the whole Peter thing? I'm over it," she promised, bringing a silver flask up to her lips.

"Are you sure?" I asked skeptically, watching as Malia chugged the alcoholic contents of the flask, my expression a cross between worried and uncertain. I sighed once I realized Malia wasn't going to say more on the subject. "I know I hurt you, Malia, and I'm sorry. I thought it was for the best. We were all just trying to protect you. Me, Lydia, Kira, Scott, Stiles—"

"I don't want to talk about Stiles," Malia quickly interrupted. "I just want to get drunk. Let's get drunk, Joey."

"I don't really think that's a good idea," I responded, reaching out to steady her as she stumbled slightly off balance.

Straightening up, Malia waved her flask around and began to clumsily turn on the heels of her combat boots. "Suit yourself," she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd entirely.

I sighed once more as I stared after my troubled friend for a moment before letting my eyes wander. My stomach filled with untamable butterflies as my gaze found Liam, who was sitting on top of a picnic table a small distance away from the rest of the bonfire. I felt a faint frown pull at my lips as I watched him knock back a bottle of something I assumed was alcoholic. Trying not to focus on how insanely good he looked in his lacrosse jersey, I started to make my way toward him.

Liam finished off his drink, his blue eyes falling on me just as I broke through the crowd in front of him.

"Hey," he said in a sullen tone, his gaze faltering the tiniest bit, causing my frown to deepen.

"Hi," I responded softly as I stared at him with an uncertain expression—I could tell something was definitely off with him.

Despite the overwhelming noise of our bustling surroundings, an uncomfortable silence ensued between me and Liam. I tried to decipher the different emotions on his face, wondering what was causing the sudden tension between us, but Liam refused to meet my eyes. He was like an entirely different person compared to earlier at the school.

As he stared out at the bonfire, essentially ignoring my existence, I bit my lip as I pondered what to say. It was then I noticed the unusual absence of our third freshman friend.

"Where's Mason?" I asked, turning my head to search the crowd for him.

Liam shrugged carelessly. "Who knows?"

I drew my eyebrows together as I looked back to him. "Liam, are you okay?" I questioned hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I narrowed my eyes. Liam was acting an awful lot like the cocky lacrosse player I had watched show off the day of tryouts, but with ten times more arrogance, and I wasn't liking it. "Because you're acting like a jerk," I told him bluntly, taking a page out of Malia's book.

He scoffed as he pushed up from the table. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Joey."

Before I could ask him what he meant by that, Liam seemed to trip over his own feet, staggering slightly to the side, and I instinctively grabbed him by the arms, helping to steady him. His face was now within inches of mine, and as I looked closer, I noticed the faint red tinge around his irises.

"Liam, maybe you should sit down," I suggested lightly, directing him backward toward the picnic table. To say I was worried would be an understatement. I knew werewolves couldn't get drunk, but there was no other way to explain Liam's current state. "I'll go find you some water."

Liam swiftly grabbed my wrist, refusing to sit down. "I don't want water," he told me firmly, the soft glow of the fire reflected in the crystal blue of his eyes.

I looked at him with uncertainty. "Then what do you want?"

Instead of answering me, Liam placed his hands on my waist and drew me into his chest, causing my eyes to widen. I opened my mouth to let out some form of objection, but before I could manage to speak, Liam leaned in and claimed my lips with his. I instantly forgot my moral inhibitions and kissed him back, grasping the mesh material of his lacrosse jersey into my fists as I pulled him closer.

Liam took a step back without disconnecting his lips from mine and sat down on the bench of the picnic table, tugging me onto his lap. I paid no attention to the new position as I settled my legs on either side of him and pushed my fingers through his hair, making Liam moan softly against my mouth.

He slipped his hands under my skirt and I felt my breath catch as he gently trailed his fingers up my thighs. My skin burned beneath his touch, and though my teenage hormones yearned for more, my rational thought was telling me to stop him. I might not be experienced in this particular area, but I knew what my limits were, and Liam was pushing my boundaries too far.

"Liam, wait," I said breathlessly as his lips strayed from my mouth to suck at my collarbone. My heart thrummed in panic as I felt his fangs scrape my skin.

Liam abruptly pulled away from me, grimacing as he held his head. Confused, I stood up from his lap and watched in concern as his eyes flickered a dark shade of gold for a moment before fading back to blue. He tried to push up to his feet, but ended up losing his balance, stumbling much more than he had earlier. I immediately moved to help him, wrapping one of his arms around my shoulder to support his weight as he leaned against me.

Mason appeared in that moment, his eyes wide as he looked at his best friend. "What's wrong with him?" he questioned as he tossed down his red cup to put Liam's other arm around his shoulder.

I shook my head frantically. "I don't know," I told him, glancing at Liam in worry. "Help me sit him down."

Mason complied and together we managed to place Liam on top of the picnic table once more.

I gently cupped his face in my hands and kept his head up as I examined him. He was blinking rapidly, clenching and unclenching his jaw, his eyes unfocused.

"Joey," I heard someone call over the pounding music, and I glanced around, my gaze falling on Scott, who was heading in our direction with Malia. I felt my stomach twist in fear as I noticed Malia was struggling to stay upright. Something was going on—something bad. "How much has he had to drink?" Scott asked, nodding in Liam's general direction as he settled Malia in the grass with a bottle of water.

"Not enough to get him like this," Mason answered as I continued to prevent Liam's head from falling.

"Something's happening—we have to get them out of here. I think we're going to . . . have to . . . um," Scott trailed off, causing me to glance over at him with furrowed brows. My brother was staring down at his hand in a slight daze.

"Scott?" I questioned in concern. "How much did you drink?"

"Nothing," he told me with a faint shake of his head. "Not even a sip."

A surge of panic shot through me as I watched Scott stumble forward, using the picnic table for support as he squeezed his eyes shut. I looked around frantically, searching the area for something or someone to help us. My gaze fell on the DJ station, and as the music seemed to grow louder, the base pounding in my ears, the pieces clicked in my mind.

"Scott, it's not the drinks," I said urgently. "It's the music."

"I have to—I have to turn it off," Scott responded, pushing up from the table with a determined expression, blinking once as he tried to collect himself enough to start walking toward the DJ. He divided a firm look between me and Mason. "Don't let them out of your sight."

"We won't," I promised while Mason nodded.

Scott headed into the crowd, and only a moment later, two police officers approached us. I watched as one of them roughly grabbed Malia while the other caught hold of Liam and tried to yank him off the table.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded, automatically reaching out for Liam's other arm to keep him in place.

"These are our friends," Mason explained.

"Your friends are overly intoxicated," the man explained in a gruff voice, pressing a warning hand against Mason's chest as he glared at me. "They need to be escorted out."

"Okay, we'll go with them," Mason quickly negotiated.

"That won't be necessary," the officer replied firmly, before attempting to pull Liam away from me once more.

"You're not taking them anywhere," I snapped as I tightened my grip on Liam's arm. I wasn't sure where all this sudden courage was stemming from, but at the moment, the instinct to protect the boy I was head over heels for was overpowering every other emotion I was feeling.

There was no way in hell I was going to let these supposed "officers" just walk off with Liam and Malia.

"I said they're our friends," Mason repeated more firmly, preparing to step around the man.

The man shoved him to the ground, and as I went to retaliate, another officer wrapped his arms around my neck from behind. He held me in a chokehold, forcing me to let go of Liam. Struggling frantically against the officer restraining me, I felt tears brim my eyes as I watched Malia and Liam be carried away.

"Nous protégons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se proteger eux-mêmes," Allison whispered as she aimed her bow at the target she and I had painted on a tree a few yards away.

"What does it mean?" I questioned in a curious voice, watching as Allison closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the way she often did before taking a shot.

"We protect those who cannot protect themselves," she translated, glancing back at me once. "You should always do whatever you can to protect the people you care about, Joey—even if that means taking a risk. It'll be worth it in the end."

She then pulled back on the string of her bow and released the arrow. It soared through the air and struck the red circle perfectly in the center of the target, causing my eyes to widen.

"Now," Allison began with a triumphant smile, holding her bow out to me. "Your turn."

I was suddenly thrust back into the present with Allison's voice still lingering in my mind—her voice telling me to protect the people I care about.

"Nous protégons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se proteger eux-mêmes," I whispered to myself, letting my eyes fall shut for a moment as I felt the words cause a change in me.

A new-found strength consumed me, ordering me to fight.

I threw my elbow back, landing a sharp blow to the officer's cheekbone. His arms loosened around me as he grunted in pain and I took the opportunity to free myself. I spun around to face him and twisted my body slightly to the side as I kicked my leg up, the heel of my shoe striking his throat. The officer fell to the ground, clutching at his neck as he coughed and gasped for air.

Beside him, two lacrosse players helped a surprised Mason to his feet.

He stared at me in a mix of shock and awe. "That—that was awesome," he spluttered. "Where did you learn that?"

"It's a long story, Mase," I told him in a soft voice. "Maybe I'll be able to tell it to you someday."

I offered him a small smile, but didn't give him a chance to speak before I turned and ran in the direction I had seen the officers take Liam.

I was going to save him—I was going to save everyone, even if that meant taking a risk.

x

A/N: Wow—that was a chapter. I'm uploading this later than I planned, but it was such a daunting one for me to write. I got stuck at a few places and had to do all this editing and re-plotting (?) before I finally got it right. I know you guys had a lot of expectations for this chapter, so I hope it wasn't disappointing! It's the longest chapter I've written yet and believe me, it was a whirlwind.

This chapter was the turning point for Joey's character development. Joey is no longer the timid girl having panic attacks and thinking of herself as a defenseless human and you'll find out why this change has happened next chapter if you haven't already caught on! Also, just as a side note, the things in italics are flashbacks :)

Now, as always, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter and everyone who continues to read this story! The feedback I get is amazing and I take it all into consideration when I'm writing! As a hint for the next chapter, you'll be seeing more of Brett (because how awesome was he in Monday night's episode?), so prepare yourselves.

If you have any questions about the story or Jiam or just anything, feel free to PM me!

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! :)