Chapter Nine
Braeden counted six Betas including Tobias Hale, and she wasn't sure she was willing to stake her life on his loyalties just yet. Still, he didn't seem keen on joining the others as they stalked towards her, glowing blue eyes fixed on her like they were ready to tear her limb from limb. Even as Anton leered, she steadied herself. She'd survived worse.
The hallway erupted in a flurry of motion. Anton signaled and five Wolves leapt forward. Braeden let instinct carry her. She used the wall at her back as leverage, one boot pressed against it to propel herself, catching a Werewolf in the jaw with her elbow and pivoting around to slam her shin directly into another's gut. Both went down hard and two approached at once, even as the remaining one hesitated. Braeden slid under claws, a growl of frustration leaving one as she swept a leg out. The she-wolf jumped, but Braeden popped up, the crown of her head connecting with the other woman's nose and sending her stumbling back as blood gushed. The surprise blow from the Wolf's partner resonated through her and Braeden stumbled back against the wall, her back striking it, and she locked her knees to keep from sliding down. She was ready to throw herself back into the mix, but the split second distraction had been all it had taken. He was on her, fangs bared and claws out, but a look of surprise washed over him as Tobias Hale's low growl echoed just before he sent the other Wolf flying down the hall.
"Behind you!" Braeden shouted, but the flash of movement was too quick. Anton has finally decided to move, but not in Human form. Somewhere in the chaos of the fight he had shifted and in a blur of fur and teeth and glowing red eyes he launched himself at Tobias to slam him to the linoleum floor.
Braeden started to move, but that last Wolf - so willing to back away when the odds were stacked against him - grabbed her by the back of her sweatshirt and threw her hard. She slammed into the lockers on the opposite side of the hall, feeling the awkward angle in her shoulder and the numbness that spread to her fingers as she crumbled to the ground. A boot landed hard against her back. She lifted her head just enough to see Tobias laid out, blood escaping from fresh wounds as his jaw clenched against pain. Anton moved on all fours, his low growl reverberating through the hallway before he threw his head back and howled.
I trust your instincts. Of all the stupid, ignorant remarks. One that he never would have assumed could have escaped the seasoned Hunter, but there he was, putting his faith in Derek that he wasn't going to let his desperate need for family blindside him. Not that Peter hadn't used that very same need to get what he wanted from his nephew a time or two, but right then it was putting everyone in Anton DeBois' cross-hairs and Argent couldn't even be bothered to try to talk him out of it. What good was he anyway?
Every hair on the back of Peter's neck stood on end a fraction of a second before a howl shook the ground beneath them and for just a moment, time seemed to stand still as he tried to drag air into his lungs.
"What the hell was that?" Argent demanded.
A call to war. Well, at least Derek recognized that. Peter snapped forward, snatching the cell phone from the Hunter's hand and his thumb grazed the speaker button. "Is this enough to convince you?"
"What the hell are you doing there?" his nephew demanded.
"Tobias sold you out. Betrayed you."
"You don't know that."
"I do know that." Tobias might have hid behind his so-called break from the DeBois Pack before, but Peter had known better than to trust it. Known better than to trust him.
"Just because you manipulate everyone around you doesn't mean that's why he's here," Derek snapped back and Peter clenched his jaw. Young, naive fool.
"What colour were his eyes?"
Peter could feel Argent's gaze on him at that question, but he forced himself to wait. Tobias had always been so high and mighty, a Human-born DeBois that hadn't bent the knee and taken the Bite. A pacifist when convenient, but when push had come to shove, he'd chosen his path. Peter knew it, and he was certain Derek did too. He just needed to admit it out loud.
"So are yours and mine," his nephew answered quietly.
"Yes, but it's who we are. It's why we've survived."
"My father too."
"And you need to accept the fact that survival may have made him more like his blood than you care to admit. They never would have allowed his loyalty to be split. He chose them. Not you. Not our family. Them. And now he'll try to take you away with them."
There was a deafening silence from the other end of the line and there would have been a day that the older Hale would have felt a surge of triumph in it. Now, though, there was only the weight pushing down on them all until it crushed them. He didn't want to be right about his sister's husband, he realized, but he was certain that he was. He knew his pack, and Tobias had taken the Bite from Anton. Nothing good could come of it now.
Argent pushed a frustrated breath through his nose. "Where'd howl originate from?"
"My guess is the school," Derek answered. "Braeden's phone is pinging from there."
"We'll meet you there," Argent promised, even as something pulled at Peter's instincts. He inhaled deeply, a scent he hoped never to catch again filling his nostrils, and he turned back towards the hall that led to the entrance, a low growl emanating from deep in his throat.
"What?" Derek demanded from the other end of the line.
"They're here."
Argent frowned. "Get to Braeden and your dad. We'll take care of this."
"Chris…."
"I meant what I said. I trust your instincts." He ended the call and leaned down, grabbing a revolver from his ankle holster. He checked it, frowning. "My beretta is in my jacket in Melissa's room."
"And the rest of your weapons?" Peter demanded.
"Vehicle outside, a storage unit, and up in flames with the McCall house. This isn't going to put a dent in an angry pack of Wolves."
Peter let the smallest of smug smiles fall into place. "Guess this means you have to trust me."
Argent sighed, but didn't dare argue the statement.
They needed more time. If anything was evident in that moment, it was that. More time to regroup, to come up with a plan, to get a feel for who they could trust and who they couldn't.
Argent trusted Derek's instincts. He did too, most of the time, but Scott knew how badly an estranged family member was capable of throwing a situation awry. Tobias had shown up with the DeBois Pack, that much they knew, and they were responsible for turning him. Scott knew first hand how difficult it was to resist the Alpha's demands, and he could still remember the pain that came with trying to resist Peter just a few years before. He had to imagine that blood ties only added to that pull. But Derek was Tobias' son, and he'd already risked his life to save him once. In the end, the question became which ties were stronger. The fact that he'd disappeared without warning in the middle of the night didn't exactly strike a point in his favour.
Scott looked over to where Derek was hastily tugging a t-shirt over his head while, almost in the same movement, reaching for his jeans. "You're going to the school, aren't you?"
"Yeah," the older Wolf huffed, not bothering to look over.
"Then I'm going with you."
He stopped as if frozen in place before slowly turning towards him. "No."
"Derek-"
"Anton may have brought a few Werewolves with him, but he's splitting his numbers. They're going to the hospital because they think the Humans are vulnerable. He won't be expecting you there."
"Because I should be going with you," Scott argued. For the briefest moment he wondered what would happen if he let his eyes flash red. If he reminded him who the Alpha was. He shook the thought off almost as fast as it had come. Derek's loyalty to him wasn't based wholly on an ancient practice of Alpha pack leaders. Derek didn't need to be loyal to him, he chose to be, and Scott would choose the same by never taking advantage of that decision.
"The school's easier to defend than the hospital because of how tightly they lock it down," Derek explained, "meaning that if Anton sent his already limited back up to a place where he knows a Hunter is guarding, he'll have sent enough to take Argent out. Argent, Lydia, Stiles, and your mom."
"Peter's there. He's not expecting that."
"Let me get eyes on the school. Once we know what we're up against, you can send him my way if he hasn't tucked tail and run yet." There was a strained sort of amusement in his tone and Scott tried for a smile.
"You won't do anything until you've got backup?"
Derek's lips twitched downward. "He may have Braeden and my dad. I can't promise you that."
Scott opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it closed again as Derek started for the door. The older man paused in front of him, almost as if he were giving Scott the chance to say what he wanted to say. Instead the younger Werewolf reached forward, dragging Derek into a hug. His fingers wrapped into the fabric of the back of his t-shirt and he felt long arms circle around him in turn, a soft huff of air near his ear. "You're worth it. You know that right?" Derek tensed in the embrace and Scott tightened his hold. "I'm not ready to lose my brother."
There was a long moment of silence that felt like it could have stretched on forever before Derek reached a hand up, a hand against the top of Scott's head in an affectionate gesture. "Be careful," he warned, releasing him.
"You too."
"Stiles!"
He hadn't realized he'd dozed off in the hallway chair between Lydia and Melissa's rooms, but he had been dreaming about something nice. Late nights, mysteries, and a life more naive than any of them dared to live these days. Her voice cut sharply through the fog, jolting him from his slouched position and Stiles found a pair of intense green eyes focused on him. "Huh? Yeah. Huh? I'm up." It took longer than it should to register that Lydia wasn't in the bed where she'd been resting, but instead was on her feet with her leggings up under her hospital gown. "What'd're you doing up?"
"You didn't hear that?" she demanded, her voice raspy from the smoke inhalation.
That got him to his feet and his head swiveled sharply to either side, looking down the hall. "No. What?"
Shouts echoed out of sight, followed by clanging and a howl of rage from within the hospital. Stiles knew he didn't have a Werewolf's keen sense of hearing, but he thought by this point that he could tell Scott or even Derek's howls. Maybe it was Tobias. Maybe. Not likely.
Lydia took a further step out into the hall with him and he reached for her. "Hey, no. You're supposed to be in bed!"
She motioned to the building chaos as if it were enough to refute his argument before turning to look at him like he'd lost his mind.
Stiles gave a frustrated huff. "Hey! Can you even do your Banshee thing? Because the doctor said you were supposed to be on vocal rest and that -"
Something - someone - slammed into the wall just around the corner and Stiles yelped as Lydia tossed him a defiant look before swiveling around to meet a very angry Werewolf head-on. Lydia inhaled, her shoulders pulled back and her posture ramrod straight before she let out a screech that slammed the Wolf back hard enough to knock him out on impact with the wall behind him, even if the cry ended with a painful cough. Stiles blinked hard, a soft sound of acknowledgement leaving him as he whipped out his cell phone to shoot off a text to both Scott and his dad. They needed backup.
Messages sent, Stiles looked back to Lydia. "One of us needs to stay with Melissa," he said, his tone more uncertain than he'd meant for it to be. He knew he wanted her to stay, but she had just proved that she could still blast one of them into the wall without breaking too much of a sweat.
"I -" A cough choked off the rest of her statement and she cleared her throat, swallowing hard. "I'll stay," she said more quietly. "Argent has to be around here somewhere."
"Right." Stiles turned, looking for anything that he could use as a weapon from the room and finding nothing he could easily carry with him. Looked like it was just his smarts against the baddies. Wasn't the first time, even if he would have preferred a baseball bat.
Something inside the room caught Lydia's attention and Stiles watched as she made a beeline for the chair Argent had barely left since they'd transferred Melissa to the room. On the back of the chair was a jacket and, under that, hung his holster with his handgun tucked into it. "Well that's not good," he muttered as she pulled it from its place. There was a brief moment of hesitation before he reached out for the weapon, shrugging the holster into place.
Fair eyebrows popped upward and she gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. "Be careful," she said quietly, leaning in and Stiles thought the world stood still for a moment as her lips brushed his.
"You too," he breathed as they parted, and forced himself to focus. The world was blowing up around them, per the usual, and he had to be on high alert or he was going to get himself caught in the crosshairs. All they had to hold the hospital until backup made it to them.
Chris Argent ducked, feeling claws tear into his arm as he barely missed the full swipe that had been meant to tear him from shoulder to shoulder. He pivoted, slamming out with the butt of the gun rather than firing. With one bullet left, this wasn't sustainable. He needed distance and he needed firepower. They needed backup. He and Peter Hale weren't going to cut it, even if the Werewolf had actually stayed to fight.
Another Wolf slammed him against an empty gurney hard, knocking the breath out of him, and Chris swiveled, leveling his gun even as he knew he didn't have the time to pull the trigger.
A shot rang out and the Werewolf stumbled, anger flashing in his icy blue eyes as he turned to growl deeply at Stiles Stilinski. The kid stood there with his arms locked, both hands wrapped around Chris' beretta, and he looked like he was desperate not to show how terrified he was. "Hey," Chris bit out, drawing his attention around just in time to fire his last shot from his revolver directly between the Werewolf's eyes. He pitched back, dropping back to the hall and Chris' gaze snapped to the teenager who'd saved his life. "Good shot. FBI teach you that?"
"My dad," Stiles managed, handing the gun over. "Who's on his way."
"We're going to need more than that!" Peter growled, slamming one of Anton's pack members so hard into the wall that Chris heard a sickening crunch.
"I don't know. There were only a couple of them over by the rooms and the halls were empty. I think they all came this direction," Stiles answered.
Chris leveled the gun, shooting over Stiles shoulder at the Werewolf that was barreling towards him. Beyond him, from outside, a deep and reverberating growl shook the ground beneath them and he watched the remaining DeBois Wolves stiffen. That wasn't their Alpha. A smirk tugged at his lips and for the first time since the onslaught had come at them, he felt like they might win this.
The school was eerily quiet, leaving the concrete scraping across concrete to echo out into the courtyard and off the buildings as the Hale vault opened. Derek crouched low, making himself as small as he could as the marker took forever to open and left him vulnerable. As soon as there was room he darted down, slamming his hand against the lever to close it.
The vault was plunged into darkness and he took a deep, steadying breath as his eyes quickly adjusted. There wasn't time to wait. He knew there wouldn't be. He also knew that Scott never would have forgiven himself if he'd come with Derek and something happened to his mother or Stiles. If the rest of the pack agreed or not, this was on him. This was his fight.
The room and the hallway beyond it were empty, but Derek could hear the sounds of a fight further in. He followed it, his boots quiet against the linoleum floor, and pressed himself against the wall at the bend of the hallway as the smell of blood filled his nose. He listened for the heartbeats and worked to pick apart the smells. Braeden and his father were alive. That much he could tell even if he didn't have eyes on them yet. He let his eyes slip closed as he focused, trying to get a feel for the situation.
Anton was in wolf form, but the telltale sound of bones shifting, muscles stretching, and form changing met his sensitive ears. This was it. The one chance he would have to get the upper hand.
Derek pivoted around the corner, using the moment to leap forward. Time felt like it stood still as he moved. Braeden - crumbled against the lockers with her arm held at an awkward angle - breathed his name in surprise and Anton straightened in Human form. He didn't have time to move as Derek slammed into him, claws brandished and slicing through unprotected skin and tearing deeply below the sternum. Anton let out a howl of pain, grabbing for Derek wildly and the younger Wolf dodged the first counter attack, but not the second. He pushed through the searing pain and lashed out, his aim precise, and his claws ripped through flesh and muscle and artery at Anton's throat.
The Alpha stumbled back, one hand going to try to staunch the blood from the gaping wound and Derek felt as startled by it as Anton looked. He'd done it. This was it and they both knew it. A choked, strangled sound fell from Anton's bloody lips as his hand dropped and his knees buckled.
A shot rang out, flying so close to Derek that he could feel the heat off the bullet, and struck Anton squarely between the eyes.
Derek jerked around to find Lucien Argent standing with his gun leveled and he loosed a dangerous snarl as his eyes flashed. "I had him!"
"I know," Lucien answered evenly, and the second shot fired off, hitting Derek in the chest. He heard Braeden scream his name even as he tilted backwards.
To Be Concluded
Notes: We're almost at the end! Any final theories before the last chapter? :D