Everly stares, impassively, at the dismembered parts of the Reaper's at her feet. Blood drips down her legs—her hands are coated in it like red lace gloves. It's splattered across her face, she can feel it drying.
Her left cheek is bruised; her jaw hurts. Nothing she can't tolerate, but a little annoying that she allowed the newbie to get that close to her in the first place. She'd underestimated him—she knows better.
He'd managed to get a solid kick on the right side of her ribs, at some point. It's really all a blur—the end result is the same no matter what she can—or can't—remember.
Everly's alive, and they're dead at her feet.
She'd cut them into bits, and carved her Rune into each and every tiny piece. She was methodical, making sure not to miss a single one. If she was going to send a message, it's going to be one they will never forget. When she's finished, all Reaper's will know better than to take any contract that included Portland as a target.
Absently, she wonders where Nick and Monroe are. It's fixing to be noon, and they still haven't returned home.
Once she's finished here, she'll go looking for them.
She has to.
Both of the Reaper's cell phones—burner phones—lay discarded on the coffee table. She's been waiting for them to get a call, but there's only been radio silence since she killed them.
Grabbing a couple boxes from Monroe's work area, she starts piling all the body parts into one. Of course, she made sure that the inside of the box is lined with plastic. Everly doesn't want their blood seeping out and soaking into the thick cardboard. She wants the box to make it there in one piece.
She coats the other box in plastic, too. But, their heads are the only things placed inside that one.
If she's going to come out of the shadows, she'll follow tradition. It's the only way she'll be able to keep her family and friends safe.
She doesn't put a note inside before she tapes up the boxes—the Rune's are enough of a warning. For good measure, she takes a picture with one of the burner phones. Once the package is sent, she'll text the dismembered photo to the only two numbers in both phones.
Everly goes to the kitchen and digs out the cleaning supplies buried in the back, under the sink. She fills up a bucket of hot water and starts the tedious business of cleaning up her mess. The smell won't dissipate, for quite awhile, but the visual evidence of the murders would be gone once she was done.
She'd make sure of that.
It's half past three in the afternoon when she's placing the boxes in the passenger seat of Monroe's beetle—both phones in her pocket.
Her hair is dripping from the recent shower she took, and she's dressed in a pair of green sweatpants and a black crop top. The Rune on her chest is easily visible—she's making a statement—taking a stand.
She's done with this shit. God help them, but they've messed with the wrong Grimm.
It'll upset Monroe if he comes home and his car isn't there, but she'll apologize later. Better to ask forgiveness than permission; besides, he hasn't answered his phone since last night for her to be able to ask.
Dropping into the drivers seat—with a wince—she starts the car and makes her way to the post office before they close. It's ran by Eisbiber's, she can feel them from the parking lot when she pulls in.
They're one of the most common wesen species still alive today. They're also less harmless than a literal dog.
Package in her arms, she stalks inside with her anger weaving through her aura for anyone and everyone to feel. She can't hide it—won't.
The office is empty, except for a lone clerk, as she slams the box onto the counter. Before she even utters a single word, the Eisbiber whimpers and leans as far away from her as he can get.
She doesn't blame him. The Grimm in her is itching for control, but she's managed to wrangle it back. Barely.
"I need this shipped to this address." Everly passes a torn piece of notebook paper to him.
He takes it, eyes widening as he reads the address written on the paper. The man doesn't say a word, but does manage to get the label printed and secured to the box in a timely manner.
She pays the required fee, and gives him a nod as she takes her leave.
He exhales, muttering under his breath, "I've got to tell the Lodge."
Everly's next stop is the Precinct.
Nick hadn't answered any of her calls, and she'd dialed him six times. She'd be worried, but sometimes he's so focused on his cases that he doesn't answer.
Annoying, but completely normal for him.
Monroe was with him—so was Hank. Worry is unnecessary. She's repeated that for the past few hours—can't quite convince herself after the morning she's had.
Rolling into one of the closest empty parking spots, she puts the car in park. Everly can't help but slam the door as she marches inside, carrying the box that houses both heads with her.
No one stops her as she makes her way up the stairs, but they hadn't the day before, either. News has spread that she's Nick's sister, so they don't question why she's there. That doesn't stop them from doing a double-take at her bruised cheek and busted lip.
Sergeant Wu, thankfully, is not manning his desk when she enters the bullpen. He seems like just the type to ask questions that she can't answer.
She makes a beeline for Captain Renard's Office, but stops short of breaking down the door. There's three heartbeats inside the room, and she can only identify one of them. The blinds are closed, so whatever is going on inside that room has to be wesen related.
Reaching out with her aura, she brushes up against the unknown occupants and feels nothing.
They're human.
As close as she is, she can hear murmuring from the other side of the Office door. Everly takes a seat to wait it out, but almost wishes she hadn't when words begin to filter out.
Someone snarls and—"Your hold on this canton is weak, dear cousin."
"I'd watch my tongue, if I were you, Viktor." Renard growls—a dark promise coats his voice that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
There's a loaded silence, "Or what? We both know the Grimm is not yours to command—"
"Viktor is right, my son."
Her eyes grow wide—she knows those voices. Glancing at the box in her lap, she's getting up to make a hasty retreat when King Frederick's words stop her in her tracks.
"You told us you'd solidified a contract with the Grimm, a union." He sighs, "We were willing to leave you be, but since you haven't claimed him then Viktor —"
A union—between Nick and Renard? Her brother would have no idea what that would entail; he'd never agree to it if he did. Nick would never bind himself, in that way, to his Captain. He doesn't trust him—a bond like that would destroy them.
Everly wouldn't let that happen. That was her destiny—her fate—the role she'd been born into.
Gripping the box, she takes a deep breath to fortify herself. Once she's bolstered up enough courage, she walks right through the unlocked door like her presence was to be expected.
To their credit, no one in the room does anything more than flinch at her interruption.
They grow tense from her intrusion, her aura blankets her—encasing her in a thick shroud of warning. Even a human would be able to feel it, like a sixth sense. It screams danger—do not touch.
Renard is stationed behind his desk, taut as a Blutbad that's had his territory trespassed on and someone had the gall to piss on all his trees.
His cousin and father are sitting primly on the sofa, not a hair out of place. She'd recognize them, anywhere. Anyone even partially in the know would be able to recognize King Frederick and his nephew, Viktor.
Newly Crowned, Prince Viktor.
She looks directly at Renard, maintaining eye contact as she approaches his desk and drops the box down in front of him. He looks at it, a question in his green gaze when he glances up and sees the Rune she'd been gifted with, after coming into her heritage.
He gasps, shooting to his feet.
Everly doesn't let him speak, not yet, "I hope that my offer pleases you, My Prince." She gestures to the unopened box, emphasizing his title for a reason.
Bastard Prince or not, she was going to do this right.
He opens his mouth, but catches himself. If she is what he thinks she is, from the little he was taught about them, he doesn't want to mess this up. Slowly, he pulls the tabs up and has a full view of the heads that she'd placed inside.
Her Rune carved into the foreheads of each Reaper, a claim and offer.
She dispatched two Reaper's in his territory—brought him their heads with her mark carved into them. She's claiming the kills, and offering them as a gift, to Renard.
It shows that she can, and will, provide protection for his canton. Through force, when necessary.
If he so wishes it.
No one had ever done such a thing for him—he never thought they would. Not for the Bastard Prince.
Offers like this were given to the Crown Prince, never anyone else. It's a tradition that hasn't been done in several hundred years, because there hasn't been a Grimm Consort born since then.
He'd know.
When he was being taught about them, he'd mistakenly asked when he would receive one. He was a child—he didn't know any better. That didn't stop his half-brother Eric from beating the hell out of him, with permission from the Queen, for what he had said.
How dare he wish for a bond so sacred when he was nothing but a Bastard.
When he met Everly yesterday, he never expected this. He hadn't thought twice about her, initially. She was mundane—normal. Beautiful, like most women are, but not someone he'd entertain himself with due to his nature.
Now, though? Now, she's practically laid the world at his feet.
"What is going on here?" Prince Viktor shouts.
He's unable to see what's going on—the extent of what's being offered. If either one of the Royals present knew just what was at stake, they would've immediately intervened. That's why she stayed in front of the desk, to block their view and not let them see the Rune on her chest before she had her answer.
Everly ignores the spoiled man's outburst, awaiting Captain Renard's decision. She cannot falter—cannot look away.
The man in question doesn't have to debate his answer. She's handed him the key to his own Kingdom—his freedom. Everly has gifted him the chance to be a force that his family will never want to threaten, ever again.
She's offering him Power.
In this moment, he wants her—craves her—so badly he aches with it. Sean wants to crawl inside her skin, wants to put his teeth on her and bite down until she wears his mark. He wants to rut against her like the animal he is until she reeks of nothing but him and no one will be able to deny who she belongs to.
He shudders because he's already half hard and can taste victory in the back of his throat.
It takes him four steps to round his desk and stand before her with nothing between them. She's so small, compared to him. A precious treasure that he will never let go of now that he's been gifted with her.
Everly can see the possessiveness in his stare. The potential bond between them thrums—like a guitar string that's been plucked.
The intrinsic magic inside of her wants to reach out, wrap around him and sink into his very being in a permanent claim. A claim that would bind them together for the rest of their lives. Not even time would be able to steal one of them away—they'd be linked.
Her hands rest at her side, curled into fists, she's so tense.
To seal the covenant, he lunges forward and captures her lips with his own. Sean kisses her like he's won a war. Hard, hungry, victorious—like he's spent his entire life fighting and has now only stopped to catch his breath.
Heedless of their audience, his large hands grasp—at arms, at clothes, at hair—like she is the spoils of a hard won battle and he actually fears losing her. He kisses her like a man terrified that this will be fleeting—insubstantial—stolen from him in the blink of an eye.
Like everything else.
She is but a victim to this onslaught, dragged beneath the undertow of all that he is. Sean feels—so much—but hides it so well. She reaches for him—pulls him to her like they could become one if she tried hard enough.
She wants to whisper—everything will be alright. She'll take his pain—his fear—and smother it with all the tenderness and care he's never been shown. She'll become his rock, his shelter, and no more will he be alone.