5-Venomous
L eaning against one of the many large, rusty support beams in the abandoned warehouse Derek had chosen for pack meetings and training sessions, among other things, Isaac twirled the sharp blade he'd picked up at the ice rink, and stared as his reflection shone back at him.
He still thought about her, Adrianna. Derek had told him what'd happened at the pool, how she'd fought off the Kanima with nothing more than her fists and her own will.
Isaac felt his eyes glow the longer his mind dwelled on the huntress. He still didn't have full control over everything that came with being a werewolf. Tucking away the knife inside the back pocket of his jeans, Isaac ran a hand through his short, wavy hair and breathed a deep sigh.
Across the open, concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse, Derek regarded him curiously. "She's a hunter." He spoke, as though he could literally read the boy's thoughts. "All she'll do is bring you suffering and pain." He tried to persuade his beta.
"Yeah," Isaac replied, still slightly star-struck. "But she's not all bad. She let us live, after all." He reminded Derek.
The older man licked his lips and averted his eyes, refusing to comment further. Isaac knew he had a point then and the small, whimsical, half-hopeful smile that slid across his lips was hardly containable. That was, until Erica dragged Jackson in, complaining loudly and demanding that he be released. Isaac moved to help her hold the surprisingly strong boy, steady.
"What happened to you on the night of the full moon?" Derek asked, sitting on the nearby steps of the subway car that he'd been living in recently.
Jackson stopped struggling, glaring at the alpha as he looked between Isaac and Erica. It gave Isaac the impression that the rich kid was doubting the seriousness of Derek's intentions. That in itself was enough to anger Isaac into growling lowly, eyes a shiny amber.
"What?" Jackson mocked, tilting his head back. "Nothing. Nothing happened." He spat acidly.
Derek took no offense to the teen's outrage, calmly fitting his right hand into a snug, black glove. "You're lying." He replied, starting to work on the other hand.
Isaac tightened his grip over Jackson's left arm at the same time Erica did. "No, wait. No, wait." He repeated frantically. Jackson's voice rose in pitch and intensity the more scared he became. "I can—I can prove it." He hesitantly admitted.
The werewolves paused, giving him the chance to explain. "I taped myself." Jackson said, looking down and away from the other's degrading stares.
"You taped yourself?" Isaac couldn't help but ask. He'd lived across from this kid all his life; he'd known he was weird in ways that couldn't be explained, but this was just—crazy. On the other hand, the self-obsession required for such an act, fit Jackson to a tee.
"Yes." The other boy hotly defended. "It was the full moon and maybe while you were curled in the corner, having an existential crisis about turning into a monster, I was preparing for the so-called gift your big, bag alpha promised me." He ranted. Isaac took a minute step back. He'd forgotten how intense Jackson could get.
"And what did I get?" He rhetorically phrased. "Nothing." Looking directly at Derek, Jackson breathed deeply before continuing. "You want proof? Let me get the video." He asked.
"No," Derek dashed the boy's hopes, grasping onto the nearby shard of glass they'd collected from the pool and shining the refracted light into Jackson's eyes. "No, I have a better idea." He told him darkly.
Jackson's heart-rate picked up as his eyes flitted about the warehouse like a caught rabbit. "What is that?" His voice trembled, but only just.
"You know, Jackson," Derek explained, standing to his feet with the glass still tightly clutched in his gloved hands. Jackson's eyes followed the possible weapon with diligence. "You've always been kind of a snake—" Derek told the boy. Isaac smirked in agreement. "And everyone knows a snake can't be poisoned by its own venom."
Erica tightened her hold on Jackson even further as Isaac removed one hand from the boy's arm to grab onto his chin, prying apart the clamped together jaw so that Derek could slot the glass into place, dripping the Kanima's venom into Jackson's mouth.
Isaac couldn't help but hoping that the boy who'd watched but never helped him for close to sixteen years, was the creature they'd been looking for, if only so he could have his revenge in killing him.
Unfortunately, as soon as the venom made contact with Jackson's tongue, he began convulsing violently. Both werewolves stepped aside as he fell to the floor, completely paralyzed.
Isaac stood next to Derek with Erica on his other side. The disappointment was nearly palpable as Jackson's round, frightened eyes wondered what had happened to him. It was almost enough to satisfy Isaac's umbrage.
Sighing, Derek set the glass aside and took off his gloves. Leaning down beside the boy, he was in no way apologetic for what they'd done. "You're still a snake, Jackson," He informed the incapacitated boy. "Just not the one we're looking for."
As Erica walked past, smiling with a hint of seduction and a lot of satisfaction, Isaac felt his expression betray his amusement and his anticipation. Crouching down so that he was eye-level with the boy, Isaac smirked.
"You're still gonna have to do one more thing for us," He told Jackson, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, actually," He corrected. "For me."
Isaac couldn't wait to be able to go out into the world, unafraid of being persecuted for a murder he hadn't committed. He was also eager to get back to school, where he knew a certain green-eyed, brown-haired huntress would be.
Even though Derek had warned him about her—multiple times—he found that he just couldn't stay away. Maybe he was slightly masochistic, or maybe he just didn't care; whatever it was, Adrianna had something that had caught his attention and kept it. He wanted to find out what it was.
No, he needed to.
If he didn't, he feared he'd lose his mind.
#-#-#-#-#
Isaac was back in school, as he'd learned from his father, Scott, and his own pretty, hazel eyes. But, sadly, that wasn't the worst of it. What was worse, much, much worse, was that Derek was now having his beta's test Lydia for possibly being the Kanima.
Stiles' day literally couldn't get any worse.
And then, Adrianna Argent walked into Economics and he realized that it just had. She sat behind Scott and—as Jackson took a seat behind Stiles—beside the grumpy, rich, teenager who had yet to say anything nice to him.
"Hey," Jackson called as Adrianna sorted through her papers and Stiles tried to ignore him. "Testicle left and right." The boy tried to gain their attention once more. "What the hell is a Kanima?"
Stiles turned dramatically, just as Scott and Adrianna did, to look at the confused, very pissed off Jackson. Stiles and Scott had shock written over their faces, but Adrianna looked pensive. Stiles knew it wasn't a good thing but before he could say something about it, class begun.
"All right, listen up." Coach commanded from the front of the classroom. "A quick warning before we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall," He targeted shamelessly. "Might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult," He warned. "I'm not even too sure I could pass it."
Stiles breathed deeply as his best friend shrunk in his seat under the scrutiny of the whole class. Finstock had a particular liking for publicly humiliating Scott and today hadn't even been the worst Stiles had seen it get.
"Okay," Coach continued, scanning the uncomfortable faces of the students in his class; all of which wanted to avoid Scott's embarrassment. "I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question." He told the group. "Who's got it, huh?"
Stiles raised his hand, as he noticed Lydia did as well, but the coach picked another random student near the front. "Come on, let's go, buddy." He encouraged. Without any further dedication needed to be paid towards the class, Stiles turned in his seat to face Jackson, as did Scott.
"Paralyzed from the neck down." The arrogant teen complained in a whisper that wasn't as quiet as Stiles would have liked. "Do you have any idea what that feels like?" He asked brusquely.
Nodding his head slightly, Stiles noticed that Adrianna was also paying attention. Although she was still facing the board, her pencil was idle and her eyes were closed in concentration.
"I'm familiar with the sensation." Stiles replied, choosing to ignore the scary, killer huntress for the sake of his own rapidly degrading mental health. Jackson simply rolled his eyes, unimpressed.
"Wait," Scott spoke up, sounding confused—as he usually did. "Why would Derek test you? Why would he think that it's you?"
"How should I know?" Jackson retorted hotly, narrowing his gaze between the two boys.
Stiles looked around the classroom for other possible suspects that Derek would take into consideration and one in particular stood out. She also had a connection to Jackson, which might explain why he'd been tested. "Wait," He said, getting that manic gleam in his eyes that he usually did when he had an idea. "Do they think it's Lydia?"
Jackson shrugged disinterestedly. "I don't know." He shared, apparently truthful because he'd never admit so in any other situation. "All I heard was her name and something about chemistry."
"Jackson!" Coach yelled, indiscriminately singling out anyone who dared talk in his class; even if it was Jackson Whittemore, Co-Captain of the lacrosse team and all-around handsome, popular jock. "Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?" He questioned.
"Um—" The teen stuttered, obviously unused to being called out when he was doing something wrong. "Just an undying admiration for my—my coach." Jackson managed to say. Stiles would have thought that a pathological liar like him would have been good at falsifying truths, but apparently not.
"That's really kind of you." Finstock happily replied, nearly smiling. "Now shut up! Shut it!" He demanded. "Anybody else?"
The entire class was quiet for another few minutes after that, which Stiles had to admit, he kind of admired. It was more than a little difficult to keep over thirty teens below the fifty decibel mark.
"How do we know it's not her?" Scott asked after the coach had settled down, leaning against his desk and flipping through a sports magazine.
Glancing around for possible rats, Stiles eyed Adrianna, who still hadn't looked at him or Scott, before answering. "Because I looked into the eyes of that thing, okay?" He explained. "And what I saw was pure evil. And when I look into Lydia's eyes, I only see fifty percent evil. Alright, maybe sixty." Stiles corrected, as Scott raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. "You know, but no more than forty on a good day." He tried to excuse.
Scott shook his head, also staring at the red head they'd been talking about. "Stiles," He lamented. "That's not a very good argument."
"I'm aware of that," Stiles snapped back, losing control over his emotions, as he usually did when Lydia Martin was involved. "But I swear it's not her." He promised his friend. "It can't be, all right? Lydia's fine."
Scott didn't say anything else as Lydia walked up to the board and took hold of a piece of chalk. There was something different about the way she walked, Stiles noticed, like she was half-asleep. And then, something strange happened, something that made even Stiles question whether he was right about the girl's state of mind.
Lydia turned around, an expression of pure terror written across her face and began whimpering and crying. Stiles' hands clenched the edge of his desk, wondering what was wrong. Behind him, he noticed Adrianna had her eyes trained on Lydia, concern possibly swimming in the anarchic depths of her green eyes.
"Lydia?" Coach asked, drawing out the name as he himself seemed to freak out a bit over the girl's meltdown. It didn't work, as she kept crying and emitting frightened noises that made Stiles' heart clench.
And then, as suddenly as a lightning bolt hitting the earth, Adrianna stood up from her desk, her chair screeching and her books shuffling from the movement, and called out to her. "Lydia!" She shouted, voice deep and gravelly.
Comprehension seemed to uncloud from her eyes as Lydia Martin stopped crying, standing in front of the class with a piece of chalk clutched tightly in her palm and her makeup smudged by tears.
"Okay then," Finstock drawled unsurely. "Anybody else want to try answering? This time in English?" He scanned the classroom, waiting for another volunteer as Lydia half-turned to see what she'd written in large, block letters.
With a tiny, mortified squeak, Lydia ran from the class, slamming the door closed on her way out. Adrianna, who was still standing, seemed to want to go after her, moving one foot towards the door before thinking better of it and sitting back down.
"What is that, Greek?" Scott muttered to Stiles, who, with a theory buzzing in his brain, wasn't really paying attention to anything other than the picture he'd taken with his phone.
"Trust me," Adrianna said; her voice caused Scott to jump beside him, as though frightened. "That's not Greek." She told them, brushing some hair out of her face and returning to her notes.
"Yeah," Stiles found himself agreeing, frowning as he wondered how the girl had figured it out. "I think it actually is English." He showed the picture to Scott, reversing it as the words 'SOMEONE HELP ME' replaced the confusing letters on the board.
"How'd you know?" Stiles asked the girl behind him, oblivious to the way Scott's lips pressed together in anger.
Stiles noticed that the right side of her lips lifted before dropping, almost like a shrug, before she exhaled air through her nose. "Greek, Latin, French." She listed. "A girl's gotta know her languages."
The word hunter was left unsaid, but rang in Stiles' ears just as clearly as if she'd shouted it. Again, he wished that Adrianna would help them to decode the bestiary, but with what had happened at the pool and the way Scott was refusing to look at her, as though something else had happened that he hadn't told him yet, Stiles severely doubted that would happen any time soon.
#-#-#-#-#
She was concerned and curious at the same time. Adrianna knew she shouldn't be. After all, Lydia wasn't exactly out of the woods yet when it came to proving she was one hundred percent human, but there was just something about her that kept Adrianna invested in the girl.
Her meltdown during Economics had scared Adrianna. The last time something like that had happened to Lydia, it had been at the ice rink and Adrianna had been able to see it too. This time, she hadn't seen anything.
"Einstein once said, 'Two things are infinite; the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe.'" Mr. Harris began as she settled into a seat. Sadly, there was no space available next to Lydia as Scott and Stiles had already sat on either side of her. She'd have to wait until after chemistry was over to speak to her.
"I myself have encountered infinite stupidity." Harris informed them, clapping a hand over Stiles' shoulder. The boy beside Adrianna with glasses and a multitude of freckles, gulped nervously as he opened his textbook and began to dutifully read.
"So to combat the plague of ignorance in my class," The greasy-haired teacher continued confidently. "You're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments. Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one. Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one." He told them, walking to the front of the class and clapping his hands together.
"Erica, you take the first station." Harris decided promptly. "You'll start with-" He debated, looking through the class.
Just as he'd finished saying so, nearly the entire class raised their hands, eager to be chosen to work with the suddenly beautiful, sexy, popular girl. The boy beside Adrianna, she thought his name might be Greenberg, also had his hand raised. Rolling her eyes, Adrianna wondered when kids her age had become so pitiful.
"I didn't ask for volunteers." Mr. Harris angrily reprimanded them as Erica smiled happily at the attention she was receiving. "Put your hormonal little hands down. Start with Mr. McCall." The teacher briefed them, paying no heed to the round of disappointed groans.
"All right, next two." He went on, pairing up the remainder of the class until he'd gotten to the end. "Adrianna Argent," He called, a tremor in his voice as his suddenly shaking hands held fast to the day's itinerary. "You're with Greenberg." He determined, not meeting her gaze as he promptly sat down at his desk.
"You may begin." He told the class.
Adrianna knew what he was doing. Trying to get back at her for what she'd done at detention by pairing her with one of the least-likeable kids in the entire class. She raised her eyebrows, slightly impressed, before pushing aside her book and facing her teammate.
"You'll be doing all the work." She casually demanded with no room for debate. "I hope you're good at chemistry."
The boy nodded, his forehead sweating, before clumsily adding ingredients from glass tubes into a fragile-looking beaker. Adrianna crossed her arms over her chest, looking around at the class. Erica had her hand on Scott's upper leg, apparently trying to seduce him, while Lydia was talking to Allison. A few tables in front of her, Adrianna noticed the curly-haired beta she'd spared at the sheriff's station what felt like a lifetime ago, staring at her.
She lifted her brows as the once shy boy smirked back at her, not at all embarrassed to be caught gazing at her. Something in the hollow part of her chest where her heart should be, twisted sharply and it was she that looked away first.
"Switch." Harris said boredly, tapping his hand against the top of the bell he had on his desk to inform them of when their turns ended. Adrianna felt relieved as she stood up and searched for someone more interesting to sit with.
But by the time she'd collected her stuff, the seat next to Lydia had already been taken by Scott. Allison had Erica as a partner and Stiles was sitting next to Isaac. Adrianna had no choice but to sit back down next to Greenberg and make sure that she was fast enough to get close to Lydia, the next time Harris called for a switch.
The boy beside her looked at her strangely, glancing around the classroom, confused. "You're supposed to change partners." He told her, as though she didn't know.
"Just shut up and work, Greenberg." She growled, glaring at him heatedly until he caved and redirected his attention to their failing experiment.
Once more, her eyes were drawn across the room as the nagging sensation at the base of her skull told her that someone was staring at her. Erica and Allison seemed to be in deep conversation, the likes of which, Adrianna could guess had something to do with Allison's not-boyfriend, Scott. Adrianna didn't much care for such things, so she moved on.
It was then that Stiles' table caught her attention. The gangly boy was hunched over various sets of tubes containing chemicals of all colours, whispering in sour tones to Isaac, who, while he was smirking, amused by Stile's anger, would glance back at her every few seconds.
When he saw that she was looking at him, this time, he smiled widely. It was nice. Different than the way he was around Derek and even Stiles, pretending to be someone he obviously wasn't. It reminded Adrianna of herself, whenever she was with Gerard.
The bell seemed to ring faster, that time, or perhaps it was just that she'd been more distracted. Whatever the reason, as Harris called, "Switch", in his dull, monotone voice, Adrianna bolted from her chair, aiming to finally sit beside Lydia, who was very popular today, but finding that someone else had beaten her, yet again. Unsurprisingly, it was a perturbed looking Stiles.
Huffing in exasperation, Adrianna felt her stomach sinking. At this point, she'd never be able to ask the red head whether she was alright, or not. Just as she was about to accept her fate to be stuck with Greenberg for the remainder of the class, she noticed an empty seat at a table directly behind Lydia.
If I can't be beside her, I can at least be near her, she reasoned.
Rushing to the table, worried that someone else would steal the seat and she'd have to return to the stuttering, sweating boy she'd began to seriously resent, Adrianna sat down and slipped her textbook onto the table with a grateful sigh.
That was, until she realized that her partner was none other than Isaac Lahey himself. He grinned at her, seemingly not believing his luck, before scooting his chair a few inches closer to hers and leafing through her chemistry book until he reached the chapter they were on. He smelled like rust and pine. It made her head spin.
"Fancy seeing you here," He told her, leaning even closer to her as he took a whiff of her hair. His nose brushed her neck and she felt a shiver race up her spine. Adrianna wasn't familiar with the sensation bubbling within her gut. She'd only ever felt hatred, fear, sadness, and the occasional bright but easily evaporated pang of joy. This was none of those.
"You know," He said in a near whisper. She could feel the smile on his lips, they were so close to her skin. "I never did thank you for saving my life." Her heart felt light as it skipped faster, like it did whenever she exerted herself.
Isaac laughed against her skin and Adrianna saw out of the corner of her eye, that Allison, Stiles, Lydia, and Scott were all looking at her with varying expressions. Lydia appeared encouraging, while Stiles and Allison seemed to be concerned. The look on Scott's face couldn't be described as anything other than abhorrence.
"You did," She found the concentration to reply. Adrianna hated herself for sounding breathless. "I remember, at the sheriff's station." She finished more strongly, but the damage was done.
His teeth brushed her neck rather gently as his hand creeped up her jean-clad thigh. "You're not as dangerous as everyone seems to make you out to be." He whispered in her ear, forcing goosebumps to rise on her arms and fury to envelop whatever else she'd been feeling.
"Listen, sweetie." She began venomously. Isaac raised his eyebrows as she took hold of his migrating hand firmly, but not painfully so. He didn't know what he was in for. "I don't know what Derek's told you about me," Adrianna shared, slowly tightening her fingers around his wrist. "But I can assure you that I am much, much worse."
Isaac winced as she jerked his hand to the side, nearly snapping his bone right there. His gloating smirk was gone without a trace as his fuzzy brain understood his mistake. Now it was Adrianna's lips that taunted him, breaching the gap between their faces without a trace of trepidation.
"Next time you think about treating me like some kind of shrinking violet," She warned him. "Remember that I can kill you with one look and right now, there's nowhere else for me to stare."
The threat hung in the millimeters separating their lips. Adrianna hadn't ever felt this way before—the burning anger was just a cover for what lay underneath—and if she was telling the truth, in all her life of hunting terrifying, deadly creatures that would probably warrant bad dreams and post traumatic stress for a lifetime, nothing compared to the uncertainty of not knowing why Isaac Lahey made her heart race and her palms sweat.
"You know," Isaac's voice was thick and gravelly. She was suddenly reminded of the way her mother would act when she talked about Derek. Adrianna felt a similar tightness in her chest and heat in her cheeks. "You could have just told me you thought I was hot." He finished, and now they were both pretending.
Adrianna found it easier to smile and hide back inside her shell of bitterness, now that the boy across from her had done the same. "I don't think your ego needs the extra padding." She told him, cruelly digging her nails into the flesh of his wrist.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, the bell rung, signaling another switch just as enthusiastically as Mr. Harris' voice did. Adrianna cursed Harris for taking so long to ring the bell, but somewhere beneath the layers of anger and ruthlessness, she knew that there hadn't been any more time between switches than there had before. She'd just allowed herself to become sidetracked.
Tilting her head, still staring at the curly-haired boy who had his eyes narrowed at her as blood began to drip from the cuts she'd inflicted upon him, Adrianna felt the urge to take out her sword and rip him to shreds. Instead, she kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, using her mother's signature tone of scornful temptation.
"Goodbye, Isaac."
She didn't notice the way he closed his eyes to hide their amber glow, or how his nails grew into claws. Adrianna was too busy trying to get away before she did something she really shouldn't have; like kissed him—again.
#-#-#-#-#
Smiling proudly, Lydia found Adrianna's flustered, reddened cheeks among the throngs of people switching seats and rose her eyebrows, demanding a full report once they were alone. She'd never thought that the uptight girl would allow herself to so openly flirt with the Lahey boy, but apparently, Lydia shouldn't have judged the proverbial book by it's cover.
Uncoordinated and obviously more than a little overwhelmed, Adrianna simply nodded in response, quickly taking the closest empty chair available to her and breathing deeply to try to compose herself.
Lydia remembered a time when that had been her. It was many years ago now, long before she'd been high school age and learned to control her hormonally induced reactions, but it had still happened.
Before she could dwell too long on her first, sloppy, thirteen-year-old kiss, a body sat down in the vacated seat beside her, where Stiles had just been. As the freckled boy realized that Isaac was sitting smugly beside her, Stiles attempted to return to Lydia's side.
"If you're trying to test my patience, Mr. Stilinski, " Harris admonished sharply. "I guarantee it'll be a failing grade."
Stiles withered under the threat, slowly shrinking back into the nearby seat he'd chosen. As Isaac settled in beside her, she focused on adding the appropriate amount of sodium chloride into the mixture. Isaac helped her by dropping in about half a millilitre of water.
It appeared more viscous than Lydia thought it should, but she didn't really worry too much about it. There were plenty of reasons why water could thicken, most of which involved temperature or the accidental addition of other chemicals to the fluid. In the end, it probably wouldn't ruin the experiment, so she didn't comment on it.
She mixed and toyed with the chemical composition, happy that a rock-like solid was forming near the bottom of the beaker. Isaac was silent beside her but she attributed it to the residual effects of whatever Adrianna had said to him, before kissing his cheek.
"Time." Mr. Harris called loudly, startling her out of her mindless ruminations. "If you've catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal." He dutifully informed them.
Lydia looked at her own creation; a long, jagged crystal that was opaque and glass-like. "Now for the part of that last experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy—" He derided, judging all the half-formed, or not formed at all, mixtures that most others had attained.
"You can eat it." He joyously said, no doubt thinking about his students ingesting varying shades of brown sludge.
Examining her crystal with critical eyes, Lydia lifted her brows and picked it up with her thumb and index finger, lowering it towards her mouth. Liquid dripped off the crystal and into her tongue. It fizzled and left an acrid taste in her mouth, but otherwise, the only thing that startled her was Scott, who stood up and shouted her name desperately.
"Lydia!" He called and she turned her head to look at him questioningly, with the crystal still near.
"What?" She asked, oblivious to why he'd freaked out so suddenly.
Arms hanging limp at his sides, Scott shook his head. "Nothing." He said dispiritedly. Turning back around, Lydia fit the crystal into her mouth and took a hesitant bite out of the crunchy, limpid formation.
It tasted like salt and her nose wrinkled as she forcefully swallowed. No wonder Scott hadn't wanted her to eat it—she'd be brushing her teeth for weeks, trying to rid the taste from her mouth.
#-#-#-#-#
He was angry. After all this time, Isaac hadn't wanted to believe that Derek was right, but by the way Adrianna had treated him, although it would be stupid of him not to admit that there had been a spark, it was clear she didn't want anything to do with him.
Maybe it was because he was a werewolf, or because he wasn't popular enough for her—compared to Lydia and all her other friends—but whatever the case, Isaac promised himself that he wouldn't bother trying to talk to her again.
If she wanted it to be that way between them, nothing but hostility and pain shared by the hunter and the prey, then he could do that. But she'd better be ready because he wasn't going down without a fight.
Extending out his arm and digging his claws into the metal faces of the lockers he and Erica were walking past, Isaac tried to focus on the satisfaction he'd feel when he tore apart Lydia Martin's pearly white skin and watched her blood pool all around her. She was just like Adrianna, it was a wonder he hadn't figured it out sooner.
As Erica slammed her hands into the doors to the library, pushing them open wide enough for them both to fit through, disappointment filled Isaac as he realized that Lydia, along with her friends, were no where in sight.
Danny and a boy that Isaac knew to be Matt Daehler, once a semi-friend of his when they'd been kids, were closest to the doors, so Isaac approached them with the intention of finding Lydia and dealing out some sweet revenge.
"Where is she?" He rumbled, scaring both boys somewhat as they look up at him, startled. Isaac was starting to like being on the other side of the spectrum. Now, he was the one making other people afraid. It was a type of power he'd never dreamed of before the bite; it was something he'd never give up—even if it ended up killing him.
#-#-#-#-#
She ran through the halls at speeds that would have sent any other person crashing into walls, out of control. Not her. Adrianna had gotten used to running for her life, sad as it was, and she rounded the corners at top speeds in three inch heels and on slippery tile with hardly any effort.
Her book bag slammed against her back with each long, hurried step she took. If she didn't move quickly, then there'd be no chance for her to catch them. There was a dull ache in her chest filled with regret and poisonous hatred for what she'd done to the Lahey boy. It was too late now.
Vaulting herself over the stairs leading out of the school three at a time, Adrianna breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted Lydia, along with Stiles, Allison, and Jackson, marching across the parking lot, all of them determined to get into Stiles' jeep and speed away.
Lydia, Adrianna took some comfort in, could still be saved. At least I haven't screwed anything up with her, her mind bitterly remarked, at least—not yet.
"Wait!" She called loudly, still plowing her way through various kids in a hurry to get out of school to reach the hurried group. "Lydia!" She shouted as Stiles saw her and hastened his pace. Allison's expression was apologetic as she followed behind them, but she did not force them to stop.
Putting on another burst of speed, Adrianna raced as fast as she could to get to them before they got in the car. Then, she'd have no chance of catching them. Lydia, who apparently had heard Adrianna's voice, was craning her neck around, searching for the source.
Adrianna didn't have time to wave or signal her position because Stiles as already in the driver's seat, encouraging the others to pile in. Allison got in the front seat and Jackson climbed into the back, pulling Lydia—whose frantic gaze had finally locked onto Adrianna in the near distance—inside with him.
"Oh no you don't." She muttered, hardly having enough breath to speak any louder. Adrianna pumped her arms at her sides as the pavement seemed to blur beneath her feet. The jeep's weak, stuttering engine sounded across the parking lot. It refused to start and some hope made it's way into Adrianna's slowly reviving heart.
Finally, after a few more tries, the jeep roared crankily to life. Adrianna didn't need to be a mechanic to know that Stiles' car was in serious need of repair. Weaving in between cars and annoyed people complaining about being trampled by the running girl, Adrianna rushed towards the car, which had already pulled out of it's parking space, and slammed her body into the hood.
Stiles stared at her as he braked suddenly to stop the car from running her over. It was clear by everyone's widened gazes that they hadn't expected her to care as much as she did. Her fingers twitched where they lay splayed on the hood of the jeep. She hated it when people assumed they knew things about her.
"Open up." She commanded, not permitting them to move from their position without possibly injuring her, until they did as she asked. Behind the car, all the way over at the school's exit, Adrianna saw Isaac and Erica looking at the jeep with murder in their eyes.
Allison followed her cousin's gaze and her normally pale skin, whitened even more. "Stiles," She warned nervously. "We have to go."
Glancing in his rear view mirror, Stiles nodded, also becoming much paler as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. The engine revved as the boy prepared to keep driving, even if it meant hurting the huntress. Adrianna looked into his eyes and saw that he would do it; anything for his Lydia.
And then, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, Lydia spoke up. "Well," She asked them all, staring at each of them disbelievingly. "Aren't you going to let her in?"
Adrianna smiled, for real this time, as Lydia's friendship cemented itself in her very bones. She had someone she could count on, at least. No matter what happened or whose side she ended up on, Lydia Martin would be always be her friend.
"Uh," Stiles mumbled, debating whether he should let the huntress that everyone was afraid of, into his car.
"Just get in already." Jackson spat acidly, scooting over in the back seat closer to the door with Lydia at his side to make more space for her.
Pulling open the handle to the back door, Adrianna slid into the tight space between Lydia and the other door. Stiles immediately sped off and the momentum sent her tumbling further into her chair.
Adrianna felt like she had to tell Lydia, somehow, that she was grateful, so she squeezed the other girl's hand and they shared giddy glances. It seemed that Adrianna hadn't been the only one in need of a true, unconditional friendship.
Staring out at the school far behind them and the werewolves that wanted to hurt her new friend, Adrianna promised herself that she wouldn't let anyone hurt Lydia Martin—as long as she lived.
#-#-#-#-#
"If we're studying at Scott's house," Lydia questioned smartly—too smartly for the facade she'd been carrying around since before freshman year. "Then where's Scott?"
Jackson held onto her arm tightly so that she followed behind him, up the steps to Scott's house. He didn't miss the way Argent's cousin glared at him. He didn't know when Lydia had made friends with the huntress, but it was apparent that they had some kind of understanding.
"Meeting us here." Stiles provided, jingling his keys in his hand as he led the way with Allison by his side. "I think." He muttered a little more quietly, but still audible. Jackson took a breath and convinced himself not to harm the sheriff's son for being clueless and completely in love with his ex-girlfriend.
"Thanks." Allison breathed to him as Adrianna took Jackson's place beside Lydia, both of them walking into the house after Stiles.
"I needed to talk to her anyway." He supplied as an answer, shrugging with forced insouciance. He didn't much like it when people thanked him for things, particularly Allison. He was used to being disliked, not praised.
Inside Scott's house was cozy, everything painted in warm tones. It was much smaller and less extravagant than Jackson's own home, but at the same time, it felt more comforting to stand in. Less like he was on display in the latest modern home's magazine.
Stiles shut the door behind them, locking the deadbolt and sliding a chained lock into place. Who even has double locks anymore? Jackson asked himself, slightly aghast. It seemed he wasn't the only one who was disturbed by the amount of security in the McCall home. Lydia's brow furrowed and Allison bit her lip, looking like she was holding back a laugh.
"Uh, there's been a few break-ins around the neighbourhood." Stiles explained, as though it was perfectly normal. To make matters worse, he then grabbed a nearby chair and pushed it beneath the doorknob. "And a murder." He supplied, cringing. "Yeah, it was bad."
Rolling his eyes, Jackson sighed before once more holding Lydia's arm. "Lydia, follow me." He told her, already leading her up the stairs to the second floor for some privacy. "I need to talk to you for a minute."
"Seriously?" Lydia wondered aloud, voice turning shrill as she neared the brink of serious frustration which would lead to her demanding some answers. "What is going on with everyone?"
Jackson led her down the upstairs hall, all the way to a room decked out in posters and messy enough for him to know that it had to be Scott's. Shutting the door behind them, Jackson took a moment to compose his thoughts. He needed to ask this right, or else, Lydia wouldn't tell him what he wanted to know.
"You okay?" He voiced in concern as he noticed Lydia's troubled expression.
"So—" She replied, nervously threading her hands in front of her.
"So you never gave me back my key." He explained, feeling his ire rising the longer Lydia was oblivious to his needs.
"What?" Her voice was small and strained, like she was on the verge of crying. Jackson hoped she didn't. He didn't think he had the patience to deal with a hysterical Lydia. "Wh—y—your key?" She manage to utter with some difficulty.
"That's what you wanted to talk about?" Lydia crowed, clearly rankled by his priorities. Jackson rolled his eyes, already having had enough of her high and mighty attitude.
"Why didn't you give it back?" He nearly snarled. Jackson wasn't sure why she was getting under his skin so easily but he needed to get that key, no matter how angry she made him, so he reluctantly dialed his temper back a few notches.
"Are you kidding?" Lydia resentfully questioned, narrowing her eyes in the way she did when she became determined to prove her point. "I'm attacked by some lunatic who bites me. A lunatic who, by the way, still hasn't been caught." She pointed out angrily. "I spent two days freaked out of my mind, walking around the woods naked. Almost all of my friends are acting like total nutcases and you expect me to be worried about some stupid key?" She finished daringly, placing her hands on her hips.
"So do you have the key or not?" He forced himself to ask, as patiently as he could manage.
Jutting out her hip and raising her chin, Lydia replied with certainty and conviction. "Not." She told him, but then, he saw a drop of perspiration collect on her brow, just below her hair-line and he listened as her heart-rate sped up.
Indignation flared in his gut as he scoffed, disbelief forcing his eyebrows to lift and his lips to press together. "You just lied to me." He realized, surprising Lydia as her eyes widened and her lips puckered worriedly.
"Where's my key, Lydia?" He asked, circling her like a hungry predator. "It was you, wasn't it? You edited the tape." He theorized, oblivious to the fear Lydia felt as he came closer and closer.
"What tape?" She squeaked unsurely, looking all over the room; anywhere but at him.
"The night of the full moon. The recording." He impatiently snapped, clenching his fists at his sides as his imagination took off with all the things Lydia might have done. "You came into my house—into my room—and you saw what was happening to me, so you took the tape from my camera and you edited out the most important part." His voice grated and Lydia turned her back on him, looking out the window so she wouldn't have to look at him.
"I don't know why." He told her truthfully. "Maybe because you wanted to take that from me, my moment, like you take everything." He nearly shouted, taking a moment to restore his calm as Lydia jumped. "Or maybe you just thought you were protecting me." His gaze softened on her; his Lydia.
"But it was you, wasn't it?" Jackson demanded to know—to hear her admit it.
She faced him then, tears gathering in her eyes and Jackson knew he'd made a mistake treating her the way he had. He wished he could take it back, but like everyone always said—some things just can't be undone.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lydia told him, the hurt shining in her eyes and cutting at her throat. "But if you need it so badly," She stressed, reaching up to her throat and touching one of the chain's of her many necklaces. "Fine." She yielded, slipping a long, gold chain over her head, the end of which had a familiar gold key dangling loosely.
She dropped it into his hand coldly, hardly touching his skin, as though he disgusted her. Hell, Jackson even disgusted himself sometimes. This was one of those times. Lydia had kept his key, not because she'd had fiendish intentions, but because she'd wanted to have something of his close to her heart.
"I hate you," She acerbically announced, tears dripping down her cheeks. "I hate you so much." She hiccuped.
"No," Jackson denied; refused to believe. "No, you don't." If Lydia didn't care about him, then no one did.
"I should." Lydia whimpered, face scrunching with her agony. "I should hate you."
Jackson reached out to her, guilty for having caused her pain, again, but she turned her head, brushing away his touch. "Don't." She pleaded, her resolve already weakening.
"Lydia." He breathed, like it was his own name. Like it was the only name that mattered. His lips met hers—salty and sweet from her lipstick and tears—and Jackson realized that Lydia Martin was definitely the best thing to ever happen to him.
He hadn't seen her true value until he'd lost her. Jackson never wanted to lose her again.
#-#-#-#-#
The cellphone felt heavy in her hands. She didn't want to dial the familiar number but she didn't really have a choice. Outside, Derek and his betas were waiting—for what she didn't know—but somehow, they were going to try to find a way to get inside and kill Lydia.
She imagined her best friend with her silky, strawberry blonde hair, deeper than anybody could have guessed personality, and great advice. Allison couldn't even stand to think about a world without Lydia Martin, the girl who'd complimented her jacket on her first day and helped her to fit into yet another school.
The buttons seemed to dial themselves and before Allison could realize it, the phone was pressed to her ear and Scott's voice filtered through, concerned and soft.
"It's me." She reassured him. Allison was nearly certain that Scott had thought it was her father, at first.
"What's wrong?" He questioned, because even he knew that she would never have called him, risked exposing their ongoing relationship, if there wasn't something wrong.
"You need to get here now." Allison urged him, peeking out from behind the curtains on both windows encasing the front door. Already, the sun was close to setting. There'd be no telling what would happen when the moon came out. "Right now." She corrected.
"Okay," Scott agreed, sounding like he was already running to the car or possibly just planned on running the entire way. Allison couldn't help but smile. That was why she loved Scott McCall. "I'm leaving now." He told her as she realized what she'd just admitted to herself. "On my way."
Allison nodded her head, forgetting that Scott couldn't see her, but he'd already hung up before she could properly answer. Her fingers shook as she lowered the phone, snapping it shut.
"You alright?" Adrianna's voice asked her from where she was sitting on the bottom step of the stairwell. "That was Scott, wasn't it?" She added.
"Yeah," Allison forced herself to reply. "He's coming over." She told them shakily.
Licking her lips and standing to her feet, Adrianna walked over to her and Stiles, placing a hand over Allison's shoulder. "You don't sound very happy about that." She observed.
Allison breathed in haltingly, trying to fill lungs that didn't want to expand. The guilty, undecided weight on her chest didn't abate any but at least she could think better. The phone swung in her hand as she debated whether she should call someone else; someone other than Scott.
"Oh, jeez." Stiles worriedly exclaimed, regarding the situation like one would an atomic bomb. Allison didn't get why he didn't like her cousin, but some things couldn't be helped with Stiles. "What are you doing?" He asked her, staring with wide eyes as her fingers hesitated on the numbers she'd need.
"I think—" Allison tried to voice her thoughts but couldn't, having to start again. "I think I have to call my dad." She managed to tell them.
"No," Stiles shook his head, disagreeing. "But if he finds you're here—you and Scott—"
The words left unsaid seemed to wriggle under Allison's skin, like the round, metal pellets she'd learned were in buck-shots a little while ago, during a particularly eventful training session.
"I know." Allison morosely affirmed. "But what are we supposed to do? They're not here to scare us, okay?" She reminded Stiles.
Adrianna had scarcely said a word since looking out the window at the gathered werewolves on the street. "They're here to kill Lydia." She spoke then, absolutely certain of her conclusion. Allison had been too afraid to say so herself, but she knew it was the truth.
"I got an idea." Stiles voiced after nearly half an hour of silence. "Just shoot one of 'em." He triumphantly declared as Allison pressed her lips together with skepticism.
"Are you serious?" She asked, truly wanting to know if the sometimes out of touch boy was messing with her or actually suggesting what she thought he was.
"He better not be." Adrianna piped from where she sat, legs propped up on a nearby coffee table, lounging across Scott's couch. She was playing with a serrated blade, twirling it in her hands like she wasn't at risk of severing a finger if she lost her grip.
Stiles glared at her as she simply shrugged and widened her eyes in a gesture that screamed a sarcastic, 'what?'. Allison felt her lips twitch, wanting to lift in a smile, as Stiles angrily grumbled insults under his breath.
"Anyway," He loudly continued, garnering a rude-looking hand gesture Allison didn't recognize, from Adrianna. "We told Scott we could protect ourselves, so let's do it." Stiles encouraged. "Or at least give it a shot, right?" He more realistically pitched.
"Okay." Allison hardly believed she was agreeing, especially to one of Stiles' ideas, but they didn't really have any other options. They either did this, she called her father and never got to see Scott again, or they let Lydia die.
"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight," Stiles enthusiastically planned, beginning to buzz with hyperactive energy. "So if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off. So just shoot one of 'em." He repeated, this time sounding sure of himself.
Parting the curtain one more time, Allison breathed deeply to stave off her nerves as her crossbow began to feel heavier in her hand. "Which one?" She inquired, looking between the wolves but not being able to decide on her own. They all looked stronger and faster than she.
"Uh—Derek." Stiles took a moment to decide. "Yeah, shoot him, preferably in the head." He more confidently advised.
"Bad idea." Adrianna's bored tone held hints of actual concern. Allison mentally decided not to shoot Derek, despite what Stiles had just told her. There must have been a reason why Adrianna didn't think shooting Derek would be a good idea.
The more Allison thought about it, tuning out Stiles' petulant "Why not?" and focusing on what she knew about werewolves, the more she understood that going after the alpha of a pack was unwise.
"If Scott was able to catch an arrow," Allison recalled wisely. "Derek definitely can."
"Glad to see someone here has a brain." Adrianna drawled from nearby. Stiles nearly jumped three feet in the air as he realized she'd snuck up behind him without either of them noticing.
"Would you—just," Stiles faltered. "Stop doing that."
Adrianna smiled mischievously, popping what appeared to be a chocolate candy into her mouth. "You're the one who suggested the stupid idea in the first place." She mumbled around the sweet.
Allison wondered when the girl had ventured further into the house, but figured it was just the same as when she'd managed to creep behind both their back's. Allison was quickly learning, the longer her cousin stayed at her house, that the girl had a huge amount of unsung talents, one of which was stealth.
"Okay, uh," Stiles finally relaxed enough to say. "Just shoot one of the other three then."
Furrowing her brow, Allison looked out the window one more time, just to be sure she hadn't been hallucinating. "You mean two." She corrected as her eyes confirmed what she already knew.
"No, I mean three." Stiles remarked, flummoxed. "Where the hell is Isaac?" He voiced what all three of them were wondering as they looked out the window.
"This isn't fair." Adrianna moaned, slapping a hand over her forehead.
Allison hardly had time to think about what she meant before something quick and powerful collided with her chest and sent her sprawling into the door with Stiles not far behind.
Towering over them, Isaac Lahey—fangs extending, eyes glowing yellow and claws as sharp as razor blades—roared triumphantly. That was, until Adrianna punched him in the nose.
If there was one thing to be said about Allison's cousin, it was that she was brave; foolishly so.
#-#-#-#-#
Isaac recoiled from the blow as blood spurted from the crack in his bone that Adrianna had been responsible for creating. While the boy was distracted by the pain, Adrianna landed another punch under his right set of ribs that left him wheezing for air.
"Go!" She shouted at Allison and Stiles, who were sitting on the floor, looking stunned at the apparently unharmed huntress. "Run!" She repeated as Isaac growled deep in his throat, already recovered from his initial injury.
Allison stood up quickly, retrieving her crossbow, and helped Stiles to his feet. They fled in separate directions; Allison rushing upstairs to warn Lydia while Stiles scampered into the living room and out of sight, presumably to hide in the kitchen.
Now, all alone with Isaac, she permitted a giddy laugh to slip past her lips. "Well hello again, handsome." She greeted as Isaac leveled a hateful glare her way. "Fancy seeing you here." Adrianna ridiculed what he'd said to her before.
Isaac's cheeks tinged red with embarrassment and he roared loudly, showing off his sharp teeth and healed nose. "Come on then," She goaded, slipping out one of her knives—the one Gerard had given her after she'd stabbed Scott—and slashing at the enraged werewolf.
"Do your worst." She rumbled as Isaac charged at her, claws outstretched, wanting for blood. Adrianna felt a thrill as he blocked her next swipe with the knife, tossing her body into the wall opposite the stairwell and shaking Scott's family pictures in their frames.
"Now that's more like it." Adrianna told the boy, evading his clumsy kick with ease but not feeling the need to chide him for it. He was already mad enough as it was, she didn't need him going nuclear on her.
Upstairs, she heard a commotion and another set of footsteps that Adrianna knew didn't belong to anyone that'd been in the house before the wolves had attacked. Judging by the clack and echo of heeled shoes, Adrianna guessed Erica was inside and going after Lydia.
"You can't kill her." She found herself telling Isaac as the compulsion to go upstairs and help Lydia nearly overcame her. In her moment of confliction, Isaac sprung on her, clamping his hands around her clavicles and digging his claws into the sensitive flesh. The pain wracking down her arms forced her to drop her knife.
"She's innocent," Adrianna spat through gritted teeth, refusing to scream and admit that she was in agony. "Lydia isn't the Kanima." She continued, but Isaac wasn't listening. He was blinded by his desire for vengeance—not unlike how Adrianna had been when she'd faced her first kill in Beacon Hills.
"Oh, come on." She complained as Isaac plowed them both through the unshut door leading into the kitchen. Her back ached from where it had collided with multiple solid, painful objects and partitions. Adrianna had reached the end of her tolerance for such abuse.
Placing both hands over Isaac's own, Adrianna narrowed her gaze and slammed her knee into the boy's abdomen. Howling in pain, as she might have hit him several degrees south of her intended mark, Isaac backed away from her as she attacked him.
Her heeled boot slammed into Isaac's chin, drawing blood from his sealed lips, and she followed with an elbow to the gut and a strong push in the centre of his chest. He collapsed onto the floor, sailing through the air a few feet.
Adrianna was hardly even tired. In fact, there was a vibrating strength filling up her limbs and overtaking her thoughts. Finally, she could release some of her frustration onto someone who wouldn't crumble if she pushed them too hard.
Unfortunately, Isaac wasn't as indestructible as she thought he was. Limping to his feet, the beta's eyes cleared to sky blue as his stamina waned. He shook out his head, as though he was dizzy, before trying to stance himself for more.
More was what he got.
She leapt forward, twirling like a rogue hurricane, and struck the young werewolf at his weakest point; the base of his neck. He cried out in pain, sounding more human than animal, and fell forward onto the chaffed carpet underfoot.
Adrianna didn't have the heart to keep inflicting damage upon the boy, after that. His claws had shrunk back to fingernails, blood-stained and bruised, and his hair was matted with red, viscous fluid she'd been responsible for drawing forth.
Kneeling down, suddenly remorseful, Adrianna's face pinched in guilt as her hand tentatively reached out and lay across the distraught boy's shoulder. He flipped over with speed Adrianna had thought to have fled his body, and pulled a long, glittering blade from within his jacket. A knife she hadn't seen in far too long. Her knife.
Isaac slashed at her with the weapon, uncoordinated but determined to do damage, and the tip caught on Adrianna's cheek, slicing open her flesh. The sight of her blood seemed to disturb Isaac as much as the sight of his had done to her, because he stopped mid-swing and regarded her openly.
"I'm sorry." Sat on the tips of their tongues, but was left unsaid.
Instead, Adrianna closed off her feelings and snatched the knife away from his idle hands, standing up from where she'd been straddling him, and sheathing the blade in her boot.
"Come on," She told him, wiping her cheek somberly and turning her back on him, making her way towards the front door. Apparently, while he was averse to hurting her, he was all for hurting Lydia, and so his form changed back to that of a wolf and he snarled at her retreating back.
Her shoulders dipped with the noise and she closed her eyes, trying to convince herself not to kill Isaac Lahey before he could get to Lydia. All she needed to do was incapacitate him. Then, her conscious would be clear and Lydia would be safe.
It was easier said than done.
Isaac darted up the stairs but only made it halfway before Adrianna intercepted him, tackling his waist as the two of them tumbled to the uneven ground. Isaac kicked her in the temple, apparently no longer caring if he drew her blood, and clawed at the stairs for purchase.
Adrianna's hold over the boy's waist slipped, until all she was left holding was his calf. Her fingers wound tightly around Isaac's exposed ankle, desperately trying not to lose any more ground or use deadly force.
A scream bubbled in her throat but she bottled it down. "Why are you doing this?" She shrilly asked, regaining Isaac's attention.
His golden eyes seemed to tell her of the pain Lydia had made him live through. She learned that his mother and brother were dead, and that his father had just recently been murdered by the Kanima. It was beyond personal for him; it was a vendetta.
Adrianna's fingers began to feel cold the longer death whispered in her ear, but she couldn't shut the voices out. Screams of fear and pain, small spaces and bloody nails as imprisonment nearly bent his bones out of shape.
Isaac Lahey had been through hell and back, but that was no excuse for what he wanted to do. She wouldn't let him kill Lydia, just because his alpha thought she was the Kanima. If his eyes turned blue and his hands were stained red, she'd be the one forced to kill him. It would be a never-ending cycle of bloodshed.
Adrianna had to stop it, preferably before it begun.
The coldness intensified in her fingers, spreading up to Isaac's calf as his pulse began to slow beneath her palm. She felt his strength and tenacity drain into her heart, revitalizing her as he neared death.
Pulsating life flowed through her hands in engorged, spidery veins the colour of lilac flowers. The thick webs spread from out of her fingers, up Isaac's leg, all the way to his neck and then his temples. She began to lose control over herself, too mentally vitiated in her reclaimed power to care that she was killing Isaac.
As his face turned pale and his eyes pleaded with her to spare his life, Adrianna felt a sudden jolt of fear and disgust. Her hand sprang loose from around Isaac's leg and his eyes closed sleepily. She had a moment of panic where she feared he'd died, but her fingers found his pulse shortly after and her worries were soothed.
Staring at her hand, and then looking at her reflection in one of the polished photo frames hanging in the stairwell, Adrianna saw that she was healthier than she'd ever been—no trace of the cut Isaac had dealt on her cheek.
Horror crawled up her throat and stayed there long after Scott arrived and threw out the immobile betas. She thought that perhaps, she'd take it with her to her grave, as it showed no signs of abating.
"I think I'm finally getting why you keep refusing me, Scott." Derek called from the street, hardly caring that most of his pack had been defeated so easily. "You're not an omega, you're already an alpha of your own pack. But you know you can't beat me." He arrogantly claimed.
Sirens blared in the distance, red and white lights flashing. "I can hold you off until the cops get here." Scott replied.
"Get them out of here." Derek sighed as he realized that Scott was right. Adrianna wrapped her arms around her body, feeling an unnatural chill settle into the marrow of her bones.
Overhead, on the McCall's roof, the Kanima screeched violently, scampering off into the night on all fours. Allison stood closer to Scott and Stiles, as Boyd did with Derek, leaving Adrianna standing on her own.
Moments later, Lydia came rushing out of the house. "Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" She now demanded, putting her foot down.
Adrianna felt her head grow light as Scott whispered, almost in disbelief. "It's Jackson." She collapsed to the floor before anyone could say more.
Nightmares of a chilly basement and a cruel, uncaring father plagued her mind. She would wake up only a few hours later in the back of Allison's car, aggrievedly realizing that Isaac's upbringing had been painfully similar to her own.
Only he doesn't kill people with a touch, she sullenly thought, staring at her hands with a new kind of distrust. It had been a long time since she'd done that, drained a person of their very essence until they were nothing except for a weathered husk—but not long enough.