Chapter 5: the lonely grave of riley biers

The disdain is evident on Sam's face as he watches with a curled lip as a group of children clamor and climb around on his yellow Porsche.

They're unkempt looking kids dressed in second hand clothes and tattered sneakers. Sam swats their hands away when they brush their sticky fingers against the expensive material of his clothes as he walks past them.

He removes his D&G sunglasses with an exasperated sigh. "These are the kind of people you choose to live with?"

Typical Sam. Always looking down on people who he thought were lesser than him (which was nearly everyone on the face of the planet). Once Sam got his hands dirty and started earning larger and larger sums of money, he was never the same.

Paul shifts in his lawn chair, shirtless, and he smirks when Sam comes to a stop in front of him. He never liked that about Sam, his Alpha and brother. Sam likes to forget where they came from and the little they grew up with in La Push.

"Not too long ago this is how we used to live when we were kids, remember?"

"Sure," Sam replies. Still, the grimace won't leave his face. "But we haven't needed to live like this for a long time."

"I like it here," Paul quips.

It was true. The little trailer park Paul lives in was exactly where he used to live when he was a kid, before he moved to the reservation with his father. It's in a poor neighborhood of Tacoma, which, to Paul, is the most ideal place to live as a retired assassin.

The other trailer homes are spaced far from his own, and his neighbors mind their own business. No one knows him here. No one bothers him or asks him questions.

The most attention he gets is from the cops, who generally watch the neighborhood like vultures and peck at anyone who exhibits "suspicious" behavior. Paul scares them off every time, and they eventually learn to stay away from him, but a few still come every now and then. They only feel brave in numbers; all bark and no bite. Paul has plenty of bite for them.

"Or did you blow all your money on hookers again?"

Paul narrows his eyes. "That was one time, and it was for fun," he growls. He doesn't need to pay anybody for sex. People fall at their feet just for one night with him. "I keep it all in my mattress."

Sam snorts. "What good is it doing in there?"

"Why are you here?" Paul snaps. The incessant small talk was another thing he dislikes about Sam. He could never get to his point without giving a stupid monologue first; his brother loves the sound of his own voice.

Sam pushes Paul's feet off the cooler serving as his footrest and takes out a beer. He throws another one to Paul and takes a few gulps before he speaks. Paul watches him impatiently.

"Leah killed Quil," Sam finally says. "Her eyes were blue. Claire saw it. She's a wolf now."

Paul whistles. "She cut down Quil? In front of his daughter?"

Sam rolls his eyes at Paul's question and shrugs. "One could argue we cut down all of her friends in front of Seth, so…"

"Women sure do know how to hold a grudge, don't they?" Paul laughs humorlessly. He pauses, tipping his beer bottle toward Sam. "Or maybe, you just tend to bring that out in her..." He shakes his head. "You should've shot her with silver bullets, man."

"She was human then. We couldn't have known she'd make the first phase." Sam quirks his head to the side. "Will you fight her if she comes?" he asks quietly.

Paul takes a sip of his beer. "I'm a fuckin' bouncer in a titty bar now, man. If Leah wants to fight with me all she has to do is come down to the club, start some shit, and then we'll go at each other. It'll be just another day on the job."

"This isn't a joke, Maugrim," Sam snaps, using that ridiculous codename of his for the first time in years. "You need to start taking this seriously, because it won't take Leah long to guess where you are, and she'll come to kill you."

Paul shrugs. "I don't dodge guilt, Sam. That woman deserves her revenge, and we deserve to die," he murmurs, staring absently into the horizon. He downs the rest of his beer and trains his eyes on his brother. "Whatever happens will happen. So I guess we'll just see who comes out of this alive then, won't we?"

Paul shows up to the bar later that evening for a shift, standing by the door to check IDs and kicking out anyone who gets too rowdy, but Leah is a no show.

The flimsy costumes of the dancers glitter under the pink strobe lights as they dance on the platform stages. Singles are thrown in the air and scatter across the floor. Sultry music pulses from the overhead speakers. Half naked women and unsavory looking men mill about.

It looks like just another average night, but Paul knows better. He knew Leah wouldn't come here. It was never her style to kill in front of a crowd. She likes to catch her prey in a private setting, somewhere they would least expect an attack.

No, Leah wouldn't attack Paul here, but she would show up at his trailer. Leah's moves were always so predictable.

Paul laughs at the thought, but his eyes are glued on the stage as his favorite dancer completes her final set in a split that drives all the men surrounding her wild. She catches Paul's eye as she collects her tips and walks over to him. Even in six inch stilettos, she's still smaller than him.

She plucks a dollar from her leopard thong and brushes Paul's face with it. "Like what you saw up there?"

"Lauren," he growls, pulling the bleach blonde close by her hips and playfully nipping at her neck.

Lauren laughs breathily, pushing at his shoulders. "Hands off the merchandise, Lahote."

"Come home with me tonight," he whispers in her ear.

She shivers, pretending to think about it, but there's no doubt that she will agree. Paul is her favorite, too, after all. The other dancers he's been with are subpar, but a decent lay nonetheless. Lauren is one of the better ones– she's the only human around here who's been able to take every last inch of him without too much fuss. And the things she could do with her mouth were divine.

"What's in it for me?" she asks, playing coy.

Paul raises a brow. "Besides the best fuck of your life?" She bites her lip at that. "I have something fun we can do tonight."

"Oh?"

Paul licks his lips. "When the time comes, I'll do this," he pauses, sinking his teeth into the flesh of her ear, "and you'll have to be real quiet. Then the fun starts. You in?"

Two hours later, he's balls deep in Lauren and she's loudly enjoying every minute of it. His bed rams against the wall of his tiny trailer, and knick knacks around them skew about and fall to the ground. The whole trailer is rocking with the force of his thrusts.

Lauren is beneath him, screaming and sweaty, but her makeup doesn't budge. She rakes her acrylic nails across his back and her stiletto clad feet curl in the air. Her eyes watch the hypnotic rhythm of his hips slamming against hers with a gleam of dazed astonishment before she throws her head back in pleasure.

"You're a goddamn animal tonight," she moans.

Paul laughs. If only she knew.

He finishes inside of Lauren with a roar and collapses on top of her. She cradles his head against her chest, murmuring slurred praises of his performance as she runs her fingers through his hair.

Paul circles a finger around her belly button, absently wondering if she insisted on forgoing a condom for a particular reason. Women tend to think he'll have something grand to offer them if they secure a child from him, sensing something otherworldly about him. He doesn't mind– Paul has plenty of bastards running around all over the globe, including a few in the bellies of some of the women living in the trailer park. What was one more?

He tenses when the hairs on the back of his neck prickles, anticipating danger nearby. It could only be one person… No one from the trailer park, not even the cops, would dare to approach his trailer at this hour, let alone with killing intent. He bites Lauren's ear to silence her and walks to the window above the kitchenette's sink.

Glancing out, he sees nothing and smirks. He grabs a cup from the counter and fills it with tap water, chugging it in one go. So she's playing it like that, huh?

Paul stands by the front door, the only real way to enter his home, and gestures for Lauren to come to him. Her heels are silent against the grimy carpet as she makes her way toward him. He pulls a double barrel shotgun from an overhead cabinet and stands behind Lauren, wrapping his arms around hers and positioning her hands in the proper positions on the barrel. They stand in complete silence and nudity, waiting.

The front door flies open. Paul presses his finger over Lauren's to pull the trigger, and with a loud, crashing boom a figure soars through the air and lands several feet away. Lauren shrieks and giggles in delight, dancing back and forth on her feet. Paul laughs with her, taking the shotgun and slowly walking out of the trailer.

None of his neighbors bother to investigate the noise, just as he likes.

Paul slings the shotgun over his shoulder as he comes to a stop. As he suspected, it was Leah at his door. Now she lies at his feet.

"Bet that stings like a bitch," he grimaces.

His eyes catch on the silver dagger glinting under the street light. Seeing the insignia of the Black family makes him huff with laughter, and he kicks the weapon out of reach.

"Rebecca made you that? Women really do hold grudges," Paul remarks with a shake of his head. He empties the barrel and shows off one of the hollow shells. "Too bad you didn't account for a double dose of silver shrapnel in your tits, huh?"

Leah glares at him, coughing up blood and wheezing. The leather jacket she's wearing is embedded with tiny, jagged pieces of silver and blood splatter. Paul can easily pick up on the sound of her skin sizzling underneath that layer of leather.

Paul crouches beside her head and smirks. "I always thought you had a nice rack."

Leah's eyes turn blue as she spits at Paul. Blood and saliva smack Paul's cheek. She tenses, bracing herself, but Paul simply roars with laughter. He stands, kicking Leah until she flips onto her stomach and jams a needle full of sedatives into her ass. She stills within a minute.

"Lauren, baby," he calls. Her green eyes peek out from the doorway. "There's some chains in the trunk by the bed. Bring 'em out and tie her up, would ya?"

Lauren scurries out of the trailer in her heels and a lacy black robe, and she quickly approaches an unconscious Leah with the chains. He can feel his eyes burning blue from the adrenaline, but Lauren doesn't bat an eye. She always suspected something was off about him, like all of his bed partners do, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut.

Paul retrieves his cellphone and a beer from his trailer before he comes back outside and settles in his folding chair as he watches Lauren secure the chain around Leah. He dials one of the few numbers programmed into his phone and waits for an answer.

"Sammy?"

"Wrong brother, ya hateful bitch," Paul says.

Emily sighs on the other end of the line. "Paul… what are you calling me for?"

"You'll never guess who I just caught," he sings.

Emily pauses. "Is she dead?"

"Not yet."

"She's my kill. Not yours! Mine! I was the one who was supposed to kill her. Sam sent me first!"

"Sam called you off the first time, and for whatever dumb reason you listened to him," Paul reminds her. "It's a fair game, now. Finders keepers and all that. But don't worry, Em. I'll make sure she suffers."

"Paul-"

"If you wanna visit her grave, come by in the morning. I'll give you all the gory details in person."

"PAUL-"

He hangs up before the harpy can scream his ear off anymore than she already has.

"All done," Lauren chirps, dusting her hands off.

Paul waves her over as he dials another number in his phone. As Lauren gets closer, he spreads his legs and her eyes rake over him hungrily. She wastes no time getting to her knees and working magic with her mouth on him. He purrs and fists a hand in her short locks, forcing her down further. She doesn't protest, only looking up at him with her sultry green eyes.

The phone finally stops ringing, and a groggy voice answers. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jared– Oh, fuck. Shit, that's good!" Paul pulls the phone away from his ear, watching Lauren bob up and down. That trick with her tongue never fails. She winks at him.

"Dude, ew," Jared complains.

"Shut up. I got a job for you. Bring a shovel and your truck," Paul says.

"You better be paying me…"

"I said it's a job, didn't I?!"

Paul walks over to the bed of the truck when Leah's coughing alerts him that she's awake. He peers over the edge, staring down at her with a smirk.

"Rise and shine, bitch," he says sarcastically.

He grabs Leah by her ankles and drags her from the truck. As expected, she doesn't say a word to him. She merely glares, turning her eyes from him to her left, where Jared is finishing up with digging a six foot, coffin-sized hole into the ground of a neglected cemetery.

A shovel is tossed from the hole first, and then Jared leaps from it and lands in a crouch. He stretches his arms to the sky before walking over until he's beside Paul.

"Holy shit, look at those eyes," Jared whistles. "Brightest blues I've ever seen. She's pissed."

Paul chuckles. "Shoulda seen what we did to her the first time."

"Jesus," Jared mutters under his breath. "I'll get her feet, you get the head?"

Paul shrugs, grasping Leah's arms. Naturally, she struggles against them both until Paul abruptly drops her and shoves a can of mace directly in front of her eyes. She freezes up, and her shrieks are swallowed into silence.

"See this? It's not that regular shit. This has silver particles in it," Paul whispers. "You're going in the ground and I'm gonna bury you, like it or not. Now… you can either shut the fuck up and go in peacefully, or I'll finish this whole can in your eyes and bury you anyway. It's your choice."

Leah averts her eyes and bares her neck to him. They grab her arms and legs again, and although she's stiff as a board, Leah doesn't fight them when they throw her into the coffin.

The inside is coated in a layer of pure silver. If it weren't for the layer of protection offered by her hair and clothes, her skin would immediately start to boil. Leah stiffens even more, her eyes darting around frantically as she realizes the predicament she's in.

Paul pauses, staring down at Leah as he holds onto the silver lid of the casket. It sizzles under his hands, but his expression remains empty.

"Any last words?" he asks.

Leah silently stares back at him with wide, hate-filled eyes. She was always such a frosty little bitch.

"This is for breaking my brother's heart," Paul says with a nonchalant shrug. Sam was devastated when Leah ran off.

Leah looks like she wants to spit on him again. She sucks in a sharp breath when the lid is secured over the coffin. With each slam of their hammers, he can hear her whimpers grow louder as he and Jared work together to seal the coffin shut.

When the last nail is in, Paul kicks the coffin into the hole with a grunt. Leah shrieks as it lands in with a resounding thud.

The duo quickly shovel the dirt back over the coffin, and Leah's muffled sobs and gasps of panic slowly get drowned out until the last layer of soil is laid down within minutes. Any noise she makes won't be discernible to the human ear anymore.

Paul and Jared straighten, dusting their hands off. They stare at their handiwork with matching smirks on their faces.

Here lies Leah Clearwater, buried alive under the headstone of Riley Biers.

Maugrim description from wiki: "A ferocious talking grey wolf in Narnia... He was also one of the White Witch's [AKA Sam's] most loyal followers, and was known for his cruelty to the other Narnians." The books made Paul seem like some unreasonable hothead but very loyal to Sam, and his wolf is also gray in canon!

Sam's codename is "Alpha" and that's not from anything in particular. He was the alpha in the books so... *shrug*

Lauren is Lauren Mallory, the "evil" human girl that disliked Bella in the books. Jared is NOT part of the assassination squad, but he IS a werewolf.

Paul is still above ground, but not for looong. But how is Leah getting out of that coffin? ;)