Thank you (as always!) for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I'm so surprised by how many followers this story has!
I started this story with the plan for it to be Peter/Henley, but... as it's going along I'm starting to feel like Derek and Henley may end up having a little spark (no pun intended, ha!). So now I still have a plan for the plot, but I have no idea what's going to happen as far as a love interest for Henley. Oops. Let me know what your thoughts are and we'll all find out together, I guess. :)

Chapter 12

Peter propelled Henley away from the crowd. Henley flashed him an annoyed look, fangs and glowing eyes adding to the intimidation.

"Keep your head down," Peter said, picking up their pace. "Unless you want the town to gather up their torches and pitchforks."

He got her across the parking lot to his car. Unlocking the doors, he opened the passenger side, then hesitated, thinking of his sofa, now nothing more than custom Italian leather ashes in a landfill.

The first of the fans started to head towards the parking lot and Peter nudged her into the passenger seat.

"Don't scorch the leather," he ordered her.

Another glare.

Peter shut the door on her before she lost her temper and launched a fireball at him.

He got behind the wheel. He glanced over at Henley. Her fists were clenched in her lap. No flames, but sparks bounced across the taut skin over her knuckles.

Peter put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires.

Henley kept her head ducked. Peter could hear her murmuring to herself.

"Alpha, beta, omega…"

Peter took a sharp turn away from the high school, away from the town.

Henley's skin started to glow, her hair dripping sparks.

Peter pressed down on the gas. He sped out of town on the highway. Henley didn't look up. She kept up her chant, but Peter could see what it was costing her in the way her hands shook, the fight for control that she was losing.

He took a turn too quickly off the highway, the car fishtailing slightly before he brought it under control. He only cared about getting Henley out of his car before she destroyed it. He could care less about her mental state.

"Alpha…" she said, the word ending almost in a groan. She wheezed out a breath that turned into a growl, her nails sharpening, lengthening into claws. The growl faded into a desperate moan.

Peter reminded himself he didn't care.

He got to the end of the road and pulled his car into the shadows near the trees.

Henley didn't look up.

Peter went around the car and opened the door for her.
"We're here."

Henley finally glanced toward him, then the woods behind him.

"This isn't my apartment," she wheezed out. Her eyes fixed back on him and glowed dangerously. "If you think you're going to finish me off this time, you have no idea what I'm capable of." Her threat was accented with a flare of flames.

Peter risked grabbing her arm just long enough to haul her out of the car. "I don't think you have any idea of that either," he said, jerking his hand away from her as soon as she was out of his car.

She whirled around to face him, a ball of flame in each hand.

"So let's go," Peter said.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Let's see what you're capable of." He stepped away from the woods and started down the overgrown trail away from his car.

He listened, tried not to tense his shoulders in preparation for a fiery bomb launching directly on his back.

He heard her uneven breathing, her unsteady steps as she started after him.

Peter picked up his pace until the trail opened into an abandoned gravel pit. He turned and watched Henley's approach.

She made it into the gravel and dropped to her knees, the flames finally erupting from her skin.

"Alpha…" she gasped out again.

"Stop that," Peter said.

She ignored him. "Beta…" she ground out.

"Stop fighting it," Peter said. He grabbed her arm again, his hand searing with the flames. He grunted at the pain, but pulled her up to her feet.

She continued muttering under her breath, her hands shaking, flames sparking out, falling to the ground.

"You want to unleash the fire on me? Go ahead," Peter said. "Hit me."

Henley finally looked at him. Peter's vision shifted, the glow of his eyes mirroring hers. He rolled his neck, preparing for whatever she launched his way.

She narrowed her eyes. The flames built into the wings that stretched out behind her, above her. Peter's muscles coiled.

Henley's hand twitched and the flames in that hand condensed into one mass.

"Let's go," Peter said, flashing his own fangs at her.

He didn't even see her wind up. Just the ball of orange hissing through the air towards him.

Peter hit the ground and the flames explodes against the empty gravel pit.

Henley didn't seem to see where they landed. She strode forward and hurled another handful of flames at Peter. He rolled away, gravel digging into his shoulders before he jumped to his feet.

Henley launched another fiery attack, this time from both hands. One of the fiery balls grazed him on the shoulder and Peter hissed out a breath, the scorch of his skin bringing back too many memories if he let it.

He watched as Henley's wings grew, spread behind her, an intimidating silhouette double the size of her petite frame. But nothing looked petite or delicate about her now. Not with the orange glow of her eyes, fangs sharp and lethal, sparks and flames leaping across her skin, falling to the ground behind her with every step she took.

Peter watched, held to his place in stunned silence as he watched her move, power and unbridled strength in everything she did, terrifyingly mixed with any lack of control.

There wasn't a hunter in the world who would be able to stand against her. And she was in Peter's pack. He was the alpha who could wield her.

#

A rage unlike anything Henley had ever felt overflowed her chest. The heat of fury flowed through her veins, hotter than the flames she launched.

She saw Peter laying on the ground where he had fallen when she launched her fireball at him. He was the one who had done this to her. He had made her into this.

Another ball, larger and hotter than anything she had formed before rested in her hands. She glared at Peter, at the monster who had tried to kill her and left her a phoenix.

She would kill him.

The feeling of fury was more than anything she had ever felt. It consumed her.

"Don't let it take over," Peter said.

Henley ignored his words, stepping closer to him, letting the flames in her hands grow hotter, the heat something she could understand.

"That anger, the rage," Peter said as she approached him, "that's power. Power that's yours."

Henley was ready to show him just how much power she had. The muscles in her arms coiled, ready to launch the deadly flames at him.

"Henley," Peter said sharply, his eyes growing red, fixed on her.

No. She wasn't going to let him be the alpha. Listen to him like some sort of weak, submissive—

"Unleash it," he said. "Everything you have. Burn the woods to the ground. Melt these rocks like lava. But you use the power. It's yours. You don't belong to it. It belongs to you."

It belonged to her.

It was hers.

This was her power.

She wheeled away from Peter and threw the flames at the trees.

It hit one and the tree exploded, sparks shooting into the sky, branches consumed in flame with a mighty roar.

"It's yours to control," Peter said, his voice rising over the roar of flames devouring what was left of the tree. "All that anger. Everything you're feeling, it's all yours."

She shot off flames into the rocks around them, shattering one, demolishing another, a third glowing red until it dissipated into a flow of lava down the hillside.

Everything Peter had done to her. Her father questioning her judgment, lying to her. Her brother belittling her. Years of loneliness and isolation at home and at school. Being alone. Completely alone.

She shot sparks in every direction. She flung balls of fire and destruction as fast as she could make them.

Her eyes burned. But it wasn't tears. It was more fire. She cried and flames trailed down her cheeks. She raged and her lungs burned, but every breath was only more fuel for the inferno growing around her.

She swung her arm, hurtling fireballs until her muscles ached, until she finally threw as hard as she could and nothing came from her hand.

She tried again. Nothing came from her hand. She lifted her arm another time, but her muscles were tired. Aching.

She dropped down to her knees, the gravel digging through her ripped jeans and pressing sharp edges of rock into her knees.

She barely heard the crunch of footsteps approaching until she saw Peter at the edge of her vision.

Her hands shook and she tried fisting them, wanting to stop the tremors, but she didn't have enough strength left to do anything but fall forward onto her hands, trying to drag air into lungs that were seared.

"That was impressive," Peter commented mildly.

Henley's entire body shook, too weak to even lift her head to look at him.

"Apparently I should be thanking someone for never getting you therapy. That anger is going to give you strength."

"Get away from me," she whispered.

"Come on," Peter said, ignoring her desperate words. "I'll get you home. Or whatever you want to call that sorry excuse for housing."

"Go away!" she hissed, finally managing to turn her head enough and face him.

"Oh, don't turn into a petulant female now," Peter said. "It really ruins the whole 'powerful phoenix' image." He reached down to take her arm and Henley jerked away, falling backwards onto her seat. She wrapped shaking arms around herself.

"Don't touch me!" she rasped out. "Don't come near me! You made me do that! You made me…" she couldn't get her words together. She was drained. She had raged and felt fury and hatred and a darkness that she never knew existed. She never wanted to feel that again.

"I showed you what you're capable of," Peter said, annoyance edging into his voice.

"You destroyed me!" she shouted. She closed her eyes, needing to find something real. Something that wasn't the savage in her. She curled her fingers into her arms, feeling the cotton of her sweatshirt.

"Let's go," Peter ordered, his patience clearly spent.

"Go to hell," Henley snapped at him, her voice cracking.

"Get in the car," Peter snapped back.

Henley let her head fall forward, her hair shielding her face. She couldn't look at him. "No," she said.

She heard Peter step toward her again, but she didn't move. She couldn't. She didn't have any strength left.

"Fine," Peter said. "Stay here. Live in the woods like an animal. Enjoy." He turned quickly and she heard him walk away, his footsteps angry.

She listened to the engine of his fancy car roar to life, then gravel spitting out from underneath the tires as he gunned the engine and tore out, back down the dirt road they had come in on.

Henley couldn't hold herself up anymore. She let herself collapse inward. She let herself give up.

She let herself realize how alone she really was.

#

"Where's your phoenix?"

Derek didn't expect an answer, and Peter didn't give him one.

"What happened?" Derek demanded.

Peter's jaw was set and he didn't say anything to Derek, just pushed past him in the dark parking lot to go into his apartment complex.

Derek moved to cut offPeter's escape off, stepping in front of him with a low growl. "She's not at her apartment. Isaac said she left the lacrosse game with you. Where is she?"

"She's unhinged," Peter said, avoiding an actual answer. "And that I could work with. But not her weakness."

Derek didn't move. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for an explanation.

"She doesn't want power." Peter scowled briefly. "Now, if I may?" Peter motioned to the door into the building.

"Where is she?" Derek asked, not budging.

Peter stared at Derek long enough that Derek doubted whether his uncle was going to give him an answer. He really hoped Henley wasn't walking alongside the highway on fire again. Beacon Hills residents seemed more than willing to look away from strange occurrences in their town, but Derek figured even they had their limit.

"The gravel pit," Peter said.

Derek stared Peter down one beat longer than was really necessary. Then he stepped aside.

Peter went inside without any sign of remorse.

Derek went back to his car. He'd go find his uncle's phoenix. Again.

#

Henley heard the engine long before she saw the car. This car didn't fade away like the others had, staying on the highway. This one kept getting louder. She had to pull it together. She started shaking more violently as she fought for control and lost.

The car pulled in nearby and the thought that she needed to move, she was too exposed here, ran through her mind. But she couldn't pull together enough strength to even push off the ground, let around run.

Footsteps crunched over the gravel. She clawed into the ground, trying desperately to get enough strength together to protect herself. Protect her secret. If she started on fire in front of someone and they saw there was no way—

"Henley."

The single word broke through the overwhelmed muddle in her head. She fought for strength to lift her head to look up.

Derek.

#

Derek saw Henley's huddled form as he drove towards the gravel pit. He shoved his car in park and got out.

She was on her hands and knees, collapsed forward. Derek didn't see any sparks or flames, but he approached cautiously. It wasn't going to take much to push her powers over the edge and out of her control. And he wasn't looking forward to being burned. Again. His arm and torso had finally just healed from the night she was turned, when he had pulled her out of the lake, her burning body scorching him anywhere he made contact.

"Henley," he said softly.

Her entire body was shaking. He saw her start at the sound of her name. Every breath looked like a struggle for her to drag in. She finally lifted her head.

She was broken. Anyone could see that in her eyes. But it was the sparks falling from her eyes that had Derek freezing in place. Sparks lining her lashes, liquid flame trailing down her cheeks. She stared at him, chest rising and falling, hands and arms trembling like they wouldn't hold her.

Derek moved closer to her. He crouched down in front of her.

"Get…" she tried to tell him to get away from her, but couldn't get the words out, trailing off weakly. Her arms quaked, then buckled under her.

Derek quickly caught her before she landed face first on the ground. This time, she didn't burn him. She was frail in his arms, completely spent.

Derek lifted her easily. Her head fell to the side, landing against his shoulder. She made no move to fight against him, something that was more concerning than if she would just snap at him, call him a name, anything to show her anger and disgust with him and the others like him. But she just collapsed against him, eyelids fluttering shut.

But the tears of fire kept running down her cheeks.

#