A/N: I just wanted to say, I have all of s2 planned out. But I am in school soo…. The last chapter was 10k words. It takes forever to write. But Ima finishhhh DW
Lucy pressed an EpiPen firmly into the student's thigh, counting silently under her breath. Her heart pounded with a familiar mix of adrenaline and focus, the same combination she'd thrived on back in her nursing program. The girl—maybe a junior, Lucy guessed—gasped in surprise, the surge of medication already taking effect. Lucy offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
"It's all right," she murmured, guiding the student to breathe slowly. "You caught it in time. Ambulance is on the way, but this should keep you stable."
Minutes later, she watched with relief as the paramedics escorted the student from her office on a stretcher, the girl's breathing stabilizing by the second. A teacher trailed behind, looking just as rattled. Once the door swung shut, leaving Lucy alone, she exhaled a shaky breath.
That might have been the most interesting thing I've handled here so far, she thought wryly, stepping over to rinse her hands in the small sink. At least it put my degree to use.
She reached for a stack of paperwork waiting on her desk—accident forms, medication logs, the usual—but paused, letting her hands rest on the counter. A flicker of pride warmed her chest. Despite all the chaos of her personal life—Derek, Isaac, the werewolves, her ominous countdown—she still felt a surge of satisfaction whenever she actually got to nurse. Helping someone in a genuine medical crisis reminded her why she'd gotten the degree in the first place.
The mechanical beep from her office phone signaled a new voicemail, but she ignored it for a moment, letting her mind wander. She thought about Tyler—about how, in a month, she'd be expected to return to a life of falseness. Fancy galas, exclusive clubs, a curated image on social media. The swirl of shallow parties and endless "friends" who barely knew her. An entire existence based on illusions, she reminded herself with a bitter taste in her mouth.
Here, at Beacon Hills High, as mundane as it felt at times, she was truly practicing her profession—making a difference in small but tangible ways. The allergic reaction incident proved that. She'd been forced to be quick on her feet, decisive, and compassionate. And Lucy realized she'd miss that sense of purpose once she left.
Shaking off the wave of regret, Lucy dried her hands and ambled back to her desk, eyeing the phone's blinking light. Scott's probably tangled up in some new drama, she thought, slipping into her chair. Maybe I should check the message, just in case. She wanted to savor this moment—a steady heartbeat of normalcy—before the supernatural found a way to crash back into her day.
Whatever the rest of the day held, Lucy clung to this ounce of relief: for a few minutes, she'd been nothing but Nurse McCall, putting her skills to work and saving a kid's day. That was real. That was hers.
Just as Lucy leaned back in her creaking office chair, savoring that rare moment of quiet, the sharp ring of the school phone shattered the silence. She jumped, heart thumping in her chest—hadn't she just handled a student's emergency minutes ago?
She snatched up the receiver before the second ring could finish. "Nurse's office, Lucy McCall speaking," she said quickly, forcing her voice to stay calm.
"Lucy, we need you in the gym—" the frantic voice on the other end made Lucy's blood run cold. "It's Erica Reyes, she's—she's having a seizure! She fell, hit her head, it's bad—just get here, please!"
Lucy's pulse kicked into overdrive. "On my way," she managed, slamming the phone down and jumping to her feet. Grabbing her med kit from the cabinet, she sprinted out of the nurse's office and into the corridor.
Another emergency? Two in one day… Lucy's mind spun as she bolted through the throngs of curious students crowding the halls. She prayed silently that Erica would be stable, that the worst of it could be handled with basic seizure protocols. But a knot of dread twisted in her gut—something about the voice on the phone sounded beyond mere panic, like a sense of shock that accompanied the unexplainable.
One crisis after another, Lucy thought, weaving around a cluster of onlookers. She could almost hear her own frantic heartbeat against the echoing footsteps. But I'm here. And I can still do this— for as long as she could, anyway. She just hoped her newfound resolve and training were enough to face whatever she found on the other side of those gym doors.
Lucy burst into the gym with adrenaline still pulsing from her earlier sprint. The space was a chaotic blur of anxious faces and hushed murmurs. In the center, she immediately spotted her brother—Scott—cradling Erica Reyes, who was convulsing on the floor. A throng of students had gathered around, their voices rising in a mix of panic and morbid curiosity.
"Everyone, move!" Lucy shouted, her voice slicing through the clamor. The crowd hesitated, then began to disperse as her authoritative tone made itself heard.
Lucy darted across the gym floor and knelt beside Scott. "Scott, get those students back. Now!" she barked at a nearby teacher who was trying to pull a group away from the scene.
With practiced urgency, Lucy slid her hands around Erica's arm. "Turn her on her side—carefully now," she instructed, as she gently rolled the seizing girl onto her side. Her voice remained calm despite the storm of emotions inside her—a steady tone honed by years of training.
As Erica's spasms continued in unpredictable waves, Lucy quickly scanned the area for anything that might harm her. "Clear the area—no furniture, no loose objects!" she ordered, her words crisp and clear.
Glancing up at the nearest figure—a coach who had been watching from the sidelines—Lucy's eyes narrowed. "Coach Finstock! Call 911—now!" she demanded, her tone brooking no delay.
The coach, startled into action, fumbled for his phone. "Right—911, hang on," he stammered, his voice blending with the cacophony of urgency in the gym.
Lucy's eyes remained locked on Erica's prone form. "I need to check her airway," she said urgently to a teacher nearby. "Make sure nothing's blocking her breathing," she added, kneeling closer, her gloved hands gently tilting Erica's head to the side.
Scott hovered nearby, his expression a mix of worry and admiration for his sister's unwavering focus. "Lucy," he whispered, "is she going to be okay?"
Lucy's gaze was steady as she met his eyes for a brief moment. "I've done this a thousand times, she'll be fine," she replied softly. "Just help me keep her still." Her tone carried both reassurance and an undercurrent of determination. Every second counted.
As the distant sound of sirens wove into the background, Lucy checked Erica's pulse with the back of her hand, her other hand supporting the patient's head. "Her pulse is weak but steady," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "Keep her calm until help arrives."
A teacher finally confirmed that 911 was on the line, and Lucy allowed herself a small, focused nod. The gym, once filled with the low buzz of teenage chatter, had fallen into a tense hush as the emergency unfolded.
After the sirens faded into the distance and the chaotic clamor of the gym began to dissolve, Lucy found herself alone in the quiet corridors of Beacon Hills High. The echoes of the emergency still clung to the air like a fading storm, and for a long moment she stood in the hallway, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the crisis. The sharp scent of antiseptic and the distant hum of fluorescent lights reminded her that, despite everything, life here continued in measured beats.
Slowly, she retraced her steps back to the nurse's office—a space that now felt both familiar and heavy with the residue of last night's tension. Each footstep was measured, every breath a quiet reminder of how quickly emergencies could shatter the delicate normalcy of her routine. As she entered the room, she paused to absorb the stillness. The chaos of the gym had given way to a fragile calm, one that was both a reprieve and a reminder of how easily the supernatural could intrude on her carefully ordered life.
Lucy settled at her desk, rubbing her temples as she allowed herself a few stolen moments of reflection. The day ahead was unremarkable on the surface: paperwork, routine checkups, and the steady flow of minor crises. Yet beneath that surface, the memory of Erica's seizure and the unsettling presence of Derek's influence loomed large. She recalled every frantic second—how she'd sprinted through the halls, the rush of adrenaline, the raw fear that had tightened her chest. Now, as she sipped her lukewarm coffee, those memories mingled with the bitter taste of resignation.
Her thoughts drifted to the life she had once known—a life filled with glamorous nights and carefree laughter—and the oppressive countdown that marked her days in Beacon Hills. Today was Day 27. Every tick of the clock, every red light on her drive, was a reminder that her time in this place was borrowed, and that soon she'd have to face a choice that might forever alter her future.
In that suspended moment between the residual chaos of emergencies and the slow march of the new day, Lucy felt both a deep weariness and a quiet determination. She resolved to keep doing what she did best—saving lives, even as her own world teetered on the edge. And as she prepared to dive into her routine, the soft murmur of the school settling into quiet routine offered a small comfort. Today, at least for a few precious hours, she would be Nurse McCall—focused, capable, and, against all odds, holding onto a shard of normalcy.
Derek never strayed far from Beacon Hills High—his predatory gaze always scanning for new recruits for his pack. Today, as dusk settled over the campus, his eyes locked onto Lucy. He'd watched her from a distance countless times, and now she was hard at work in the nurse's office. Even as she attended to Erica Reyes—a student suffering a sudden seizure —her every movement struck him as perfect. Lucy moved with an effortless blend of precision and genuine care, her practiced hands administering aid while her focused expression betrayed a quiet strength.
From his hidden vantage near the doorway, Derek's thoughts churned. He had once found a promising recruit in Isaac, and now, watching Lucy in action, he felt as though she were already part of his destined pack. Unbeknownst to her, every life she touched, every crisis she soothed, was recruiting for his cause. In her, he saw the makings of a mate—a kindred spirit whose resolve and compassion shone through even under pressure.
As he lingered in the shadows, Derek's mind drifted to a recent drive back from rescuing Isaac. He recalled how Lucy had sat quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes softening as she allowed herself a small, genuine smile. In that fleeting moment, her guard had dropped just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the real Lucy—warm, determined, and remarkably human. That memory only deepened his fascination with her, fueling a desire to protect and claim her as his own.
Tonight, as the school's fluorescent lights dimmed and the hallways emptied, Derek followed Lucy's progress with a careful intensity. He observed the way she smoothly coordinated care for Erica—checking her airway, adjusting her posture—her every action a silent testament to the care she had chosen as her calling. It was in moments like these, when she was utterly absorbed in her work, that Derek felt most drawn to her. It was as if her competence and vulnerability combined into an irresistible force.
Stepping closer to the nurse's station, he allowed himself a small, secret smile. Lucy was not merely fulfilling her duty; she was unknowingly building the foundation of his pack. Her dedication, the gentle way she reassured a frightened student, and even the subtle spark of humor in her eyes when she joked with a passing teacher—it all confirmed to him that she was the one he'd been waiting for.
As Lucy moved from the office toward the hallway, a quiet determination in her step, Derek's thoughts sharpened. He knew he would soon have the opportunity to approach her directly again. For now, he reveled in the idea that she was already a part of his world—her presence a promise of something far more significant than the ordinary. With each measured step, the conviction grew: if Lucy was indeed as unbreakable as she appeared, then protecting her would be as natural as breathing.
Derek moved silently through the hushed corridors of the hospital, his footsteps nearly imperceptible against the tiled floor. He had followed Erica discreetly since she was transferred to a private room after her seizure. Patient and methodical, he bided his time, watching as the flurry of medical staff gradually thinned out. He noted every sound—the murmur of voices, the soft beeping of monitors—and waited for the perfect moment.
Soon, the room's activity quieted. The nurses finished their rounds, and Erica's parents had stepped away, leaving the teenager alone with her own fading consciousness. Erica, her eyes heavy and her breathing deepening into sleep, was just beginning to drift away from the turmoil of the day.
Derek's predatory gaze softened as he approached the closed door. In that silent, anticipatory moment, he recalled how he'd observed Lucy at work—her calm determination, the way she managed crises with steady hands. A part of him longed for that same connection, yet tonight his focus was squarely on Erica.
He gently eased the door open and crept inside. The room was dimly lit, the shadows offering him cover. With practiced precision, he stepped over to the bed where Erica lay, and—without a hint of coercion—he carefully lifted the edge of her hospital gown. His actions were clinical, his movements deliberate and calm. He intended to offer her the bite that could free her from the cycle of pain she'd endured, an offer born of his own pack's code.
As he guided her gently toward a more secluded part of the ward, his thoughts flickered briefly to Lucy—the way she'd smiled at him during their drive back, the unguarded moments that hinted at a vulnerability he longed to protect. Yet, now was not the time. Tonight, his focus was on Erica and on the promise of easing her suffering, a promise he delivered in a quiet, seductive tone that was far from sexual—a promise of relief from the torment that haunted her.
Derek paused, his eyes briefly meeting the dark, still face of the sleeping teenager. "Let me help," he murmured, his voice low and resolute. In that moment, the hospital's oppressive silence was punctuated only by the distant hum of machines and his own measured breathing.
Erica sat up slowly on the narrow hospital gurney, her eyes catching the reflection of the cold, metallic surface of a nearby drawer. Before she could gather her thoughts, Derek appeared quietly at the foot of the gurney. In one fluid motion, he held up a small pill bottle and read its label with an air of detached amusement.
"Side effects may include anxiety, weight gain, acne, ulcerative colitis—that's a rough one," he said, his tone even but with a subtle undercurrent of charm.
Erica's eyes widened, and she asked hesitantly, "Who are you?"
Derek stepped forward, closing the small distance between them. "Let's just say we have a mutual friend," he replied calmly, his gaze steady. For a moment, the noise of the busy hospital seemed to fade into the background as his eyes, dark with a quiet intensity, met hers.
He continued in a gentle, measured voice, "You get a warning right before you have a seizure, don't you?" His question was less clinical and more probing, as if testing whether she was ready for what he had to offer.
Erica swallowed hard. She felt a faint chill and a curious stirring of hope as she recalled the moments of warning that had always come before her episodes. In that vulnerable pause, Derek moved closer, his manner persuasive yet careful. He extended his hand slowly, so that his gesture—offering the chance to rid her of these painful symptoms—felt less like an intrusion and more like an invitation to change.
"What if I told you," he said softly, "that all these symptoms could disappear—completely vanish?" His voice carried the promise of relief, a reprieve from the constant, oppressive fear she knew all too well.
For a heartbeat, as Erica's eyes searched his, the hospital room seemed to hold its breath. Derek's expression, usually guarded and cool, softened with something akin to earnest concern. In that moment, he recalled a recent conversation with Lucy—a quiet admission of vulnerability that had hinted at deeper wounds hidden behind a carefully maintained exterior. That memory stirred in him a bittersweet longing. Even as he prepared to offer Erica a chance to escape her suffering, a small, unspoken thought whispered that he wished he could offer the same reprieve to Lucy—someone whose strength and fragility had drawn him in from the start.
Erica's eyes flickered with uncertainty, yet the gentle steadiness in Derek's tone made the promise feel real. "Let me show you…" he murmured, his hand hovering near her ankle as if to gently initiate the transformation. His voice, quiet and persuasive, held a promise of relief—a chance to cast off the weight of her symptoms.
As the moment stretched, the world outside the gurney and beneath the hospital's fluorescent glow seemed to blur. Derek's subtle intensity, combined with his calm, deliberate manner, created an atmosphere heavy with possibility. He stepped between her legs, she was nearly straddling him- the intimate position did not go unnoticed, and it did not help the sneaky thoughts of Lucy that kept creeping back into his head everytime. In fact he wished it would be her here in this position, the one he could offer the bite to , the one who could join him by his side.
Since becoming the alpha, he was unable to get her out of his head, the animalstic longing overtaking him sometimes. It was almost as if he craved her, to undress her, hold her, turn her into exactly what he was. But for now, he would settle with his gift to him; Erica.
The early morning light crept through the windows of Beacon Hills High, heralding a new day. The chaotic echoes of last night—of emergencies and desperate escapes—had faded into a distant memory. Yet for Lucy McCall, the return to her routine brought its own heavy weight.
After the night's harrowing events, Lucy now found herself back in the familiar monotony of the nurse's office. She was thankful Tyler's harassment had subsided, but the endless five-day workweeks felt increasingly like a wasted existence. Every task—however routine—served as a stark reminder that the glamorous, vibrant life she'd once known, filled with parties and a lavish social scene, was long behind her. Now, her life revolved entirely around Scott, whose presence both comforted and burdened her. She sometimes wondered if she should find a way to escape from Tyler's lingering control, though the thought of involving her brother in that plan left her uncertain.
Boredom and a sense of futility weighed on her as she methodically sent off a student complaining of a stomachache—a minor, yet familiar emergency that underscored how every day here felt like another chapter in a life she might soon leave behind. Finishing up her paperwork with a sigh, Lucy stood and glanced out the window. There, parked beneath the soft glow of the winter sun, was the sleek black Camaro—a silent reminder of the adrenaline and danger that had punctuated her recent nights.
For a fleeting moment, Lucy allowed herself to muse on that contrast. In the sterile calm of her office, she yearned for the pulse of real life—the thrill of unpredictability, the lure of a night that might break the monotony. But even as her mind wandered to memories of wild nights and carefree laughter, a bitter reality set in. She was stuck here, in Beacon Hills, with a routine that felt both safe and soul-crushing. And though Scott's presence was a constant source of protection, it also anchored her to a life she was slowly realizing she might have to leave behind.
Lucy kept her eyes fixed on Derek's car, wondering what he was up to at the high school again. Was he there to see her? No, she told herself—he wasn't that foolish. They had shared a surprisingly comfortable and engaging conversation the night before, and yes, she felt a flicker of lust for him, but she wasn't naive enough to think he was openly courting her now. This was definitely some typical wolf business.
Before she could settle on that thought, the passenger door of Derek's car swung open. Out stepped a tall blonde girl, clad in a sleek leather jacket, a short skirt, and high heels that clicked sharply on the pavement. In that instant, a pang of overwhelming jealousy shot through Lucy's chest. Memories of her private moments with Derek the night before collided with the shock of seeing him drop off a—what? A high schooler?—in the middle of the day. "What the hell…" she thought, her mind racing with confusion and a sting of envy. Whatever was going on, did she even have the right to question him?
tiles had barely finished his hurried trek through the corridors when he whipped into the bustling cafeteria. His eyes zeroed in on a solitary large table where a burly student—Boyd—sat alone. The chatter of lunch had quieted around them as Stiles approached, determined and slightly impatient.
"You got the keys?" Stiles asked, his tone casual but edged with urgency.
Boyd reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, holding them up. As Stiles reached out to take them, Boyd closed his fist firmly around the bunch.
"This isn't a favor. It's a transaction," Boyd stated coolly.
"Right. Absolutely," Stiles replied, sliding a twenty-dollar bill across the table. Boyd's eyes narrowed as he shook his head.
"I said fifty," the large student corrected, his tone matter-of-fact.
Stiles frowned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Really? I could have sworn you said twenty—I have a pretty good verbal memory. There was a distinctive 'twuh' sound. As in twenty."
Boyd leaned back, his gaze unyielding. "I said fifty. It's got a 'fuh' sound. Hear the difference? If you can't, I could demonstrate—maybe with some other words that have a 'fuh' sound."
"No, I think I'm recalling it now. But maybe I got it confused with forty?" Stiles mumbled, sliding another twenty onto the table. Boyd didn't even blink. Finally, with a small roll of his eyes, Stiles dropped an extra ten dollars on the table. Satisfied, Boyd turned his hand over and offered the keys for Stiles to take.
Without wasting a moment, Stiles strolled away from Boyd's table and rushed to join Scott at another table on the far side of the cafeteria. "Got 'em. I'll pick you up tonight after work, and we'll meet at the rink. Cool?" he said, a hint of excitement lacing his voice.
Scott, however, seemed preoccupied. His gaze was fixed on the cafeteria doors. The constant murmur of voices faded into background noise as his eyes widened in silent recognition.
Stiles followed Scott's line of sight. Slowly, as if choreographed, the entire cafeteria turned their heads. Through the throng, long, toned legs stepped confidently through the threshold—a figure whose arrival caused jaws to drop all around. The stunning newcomer moved with an effortless grace, her bare midriff catching the light and drawing the attention of both guys and girls alike.
A delicate hand reached out toward a display of fresh fruit at the counter. The figure selected a red apple and, almost ritualistically, dropped a dollar in front of the cashier—who, for a moment, looked utterly awestruck.
At the table next to Scott's, Lydia, ever the observant one, spun around. "What. The holy hell. Is that?" she blurted out, her voice laced with disbelief.
Scott rose from his seat, craning his neck for a better look. "That's Erica," he said, his tone a mix of wonder and quiet admiration.
Erica, catching the full force of the stares as she turned from the counter, let the attention wash over her. Her hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, framing flawless skin that glowed under the cafeteria's lights. With a measured, delicate bite of the apple, she gathered herself and headed purposefully toward the cafeteria doors, leaving behind a trail of murmurs and lingering glances.
By late afternoon, as the final bell loomed and the corridors of Beacon Hills High began to empty, Scott's heart felt heavier than usual. He was troubled—not only by the thought that Derek had found another teenager to turn, risking another innocent life, but also by the knowledge that he himself was caught in a maelstrom he couldn't control. The notion of another recruit slipping into the dangerous supernatural world gnawed at him, and he had no idea what he could possibly do to stop it.
All he knew was that as the day wound down, all he wanted was to go home. Scott had work after school, and he even had a private date lined up later—a small promise of normalcy and escape from the relentless pressures of his double life. With that thought in mind, he made his way to Lucy's office, hoping to ask her for a ride home.
But as he approached, Scott immediately sensed something was off. Lucy's usually warm, steady presence was clouded by a palpable tension. She was trying to hide her irritation, denying that she was upset, yet her distant eyes and clipped movements betrayed her inner turmoil. Scott paused at the door, his heart sinking. Not only was he worried about Derek's reckless recruiting, but now he also saw that Lucy, the one person he depended on for grounding support, was suffering in silence.
Scott leaned against the doorframe of Lucy's office, his brow creased with worry. "Lucy, you okay?" he asked softly, his tone a mix of concern and gentle insistence.
Lucy paused, smoothing a crumpled file with a forced smile. "I'm fine, Scott. Just… you know, work stuff," she replied, voice light but evasive.
Scott crossed his arms and stepped a little closer. "Work stuff? You've been diving headfirst into all that werewolf drama lately. Seriously—what's really going on?" His tone was casual but insistent, a mix of playful ribbing and genuine worry.
Lucy's eyes flicked away, and she forced herself to shrug. "It's nothing, really. Just… things happen. I mean, sometimes the chaos makes me feel… I don't know, useful, I guess."
Lucy forced a smile as she fumbled with a stack of papers at her desk, though inside she was seething. It's not like I haven't had a rough day—seeing Erica in Derek's car and all that… she chided herself silently. Still, she couldn't just confess the truth. "It's nothing," she continued, shrugging nonchalantly. "Just one of those days where everything seems… off."
Scott raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "Come on, sis. You've been super quiet. I know something's up. Spill it."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Why do you always have to pry?" she snapped, then paused as if reconsidering. With a wry tone, she added, "I'll tell you if you tell me what's wrong with you first."
Scott smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I asked first, Lucy," he replied, his tone half-joking, half-serious.
"Older sibling perks," she retorted with a playful roll of her eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
For a long moment, silence fell between them as Scott's youthful frustration mingled with Lucy's quiet defensiveness. Deep down, Lucy was still reeling from the image of Erica and Derek—a memory she wasn't ready to unpack—and the thought of that unsettling scene made her want to push her own feelings aside. Yet Scott's insistence made it hard for her to pretend nothing was wrong.
Scott finally slumped into a chair as the hallways' noise softened to a low murmur. Leaning forward, he furrowed his brow and said, "Remember Erica? The girl who had that seizure in the café?" His tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable edge of concern.
Lucy's mind immediately flashed back to that frantic morning—Erica's trembling, the way her body had reacted, and how Lucy had done everything to calm her down. For a split second, she felt a surge of empathy and lingering anxiety. I can still feel that fear, she thought. After a moment's hesitation, she answered quietly, "Yes.""
Scott continued, "Well, she was in the café during lunch—and she wasn't even seizing. I'll tell you that much."
Lucy snorted softly, trying to mask the mix of relief and residual tension swirling inside her. "What does that mean?"
Scott's eyes lit up with a mix of mischief and exasperation. "It means she was hot!" he shouted suddenly, then lowered his voice as if to keep their conversation discreet. "Derek turned her," he whispered, the word hanging in the air like an accusation.
For a moment, a sense of relief washed over Lucy. That explanation would explain why she'd gotten out of his car this morning—strange, yes, but at least less annoying than she'd feared.
Scott's voice grew more frustrated as he added, "I'm just tired of him turning my classmates into wolves. Dragging everyone into this mess just makes everything harder for me."
Lucy's stomach churned with conflicted feelings. She cared deeply about her brother and the chaos he was forced to endure, yet her own mind was a storm of unspoken thoughts. Unable to hold back any longer, she blurted, "Is he like into teenagers or something?"
For a split second, Scott's eyes widened in surprise, and Lucy felt a mix of guilt and defiant curiosity tingle inside her. She scolded herself silently for letting her thoughts wander, but the question hung in the air. Scott burst into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "Bro, no. Derek is probably going to live a sad, single life," he said, half-teasing, half-mocking.
"What? Why would you say that?" Lucy pressed, genuinely curious.
Scott leaned back, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he recalled a notorious story. "I mean, remember Allison's aunt? The one who got killed—she burned down Derek's family home, if you recall. Apparently, he fell hard for her. And then, she did that. So, yeah…" He trailed off, as if the absurdity of it all was almost too much to verbalize.
Lucy's mind whirled with the implications. In that moment, a bitter sympathy mingled with her annoyance as she reflected on how much Derek must carry with him—his pride shattered by a betrayal that had left scars. He must feel awful, carrying that guilt every day, she thought. But she kept her gaze steady, unwilling to fully divulge her hidden turmoil.
Scott was of course, aloof, to any of the real reasons why Lucy was annoyed today. He had no idea the little internal fighting she was going through when it came to Derek. And she hoped to keep it that way.
And as he stared her down, ready to get his part of the bargain, he turned his head cheekily, reminding her, "I held up my end…"
Finally, Scott's persistence broke through Lucy's defenses, his forward lean and direct gaze compelling her honesty. "Now tell me what's really going on," he demanded gently, his tone serious. Before Lucy could attempt any sort of deflection, he added, "And none of that lying—I can tell, you know."
Lucy sighed, the weight of her troubles making her shoulders slump as she realized that now was as good a time as any to unload. Scott knew her too well, and with his newly heightened senses, there was hardly any point in trying to keep secrets. Closing the door to her office to ensure privacy, she leaned back against her desk, the floodgates of her emotions ready to burst.
For a long moment, Lucy's thoughts churned in the silence. She remembered the cold shock of Tyler's messages, the way her car had been abruptly shut off, and the sinister freeze on her credit cards—a constant, invasive reminder that she was living on borrowed time. Every memory was a shard of pain: Tyler's relentless control, the calculated way he pulled her back into a life she desperately wanted to escape.
"Okay," she began, her voice a mix of resignation and relief. "It's Tyler... he hasn't stopped, Scott. The texts, the calls—it's like he's everywhere, all the time. I thought moving back here would give me a break, but it's like he's still here with me."
She paused, collecting herself as she tried to articulate the fear and frustration that had been gnawing at her. "I thought I could handle it, you know? Just ignore him until he got tired and moved on. But it's not working. He's not letting go, and... and I'm scared, Scott. Really scared. He is forcing me to come back- he gave me a specific time frame."
Lucy's eyes met her brother's, her vulnerability laid bare. Scott's expression softened, the lines of worry etched into his forehead deepening as he processed her words. The realization of how much his sister was struggling—and how little he had noticed—struck him painfully.
"Lucy, why didn't you tell me sooner?" Scott asked, his voice thick with concern. "And how long did he give you?"
Lucy took a deep breath, the weight of the reality settling in her chest. "He said I have until the end of the month," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's... not a lot of time, Scott."
Scott's face hardened, a protective edge sharpening his features. "We need a plan, Lucy. You can't go back to that—no way. We'll figure something out. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
Lucy's eyes darted around the room as she tried to steady her trembling hands on the stack of paperwork. The soft clatter of papers became the only sound in a room filled with unsaid truths. Finally, her voice quavered as she spoke, each word deliberate and laden with raw emotion.
"I don't know why I agreed," she whispered, her voice breaking as she forced the words out. "I don't know why it's so hard for me to say no… It's like he's got these hooks so deep in me that I can never break free." She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor, as if searching for an escape in the patterns of the carpet. "I'm scared, Scott… really scared."
Scott's face softened instantly. He reached across the small gap between them, taking her trembling hand in his. His thumb brushed gently over her skin as he spoke in a low, steady tone. "Lucy, you're stronger than you think. I know it feels like you're trapped, but we're going to get those hooks out—one by one. You're not going back to him. I'm not letting that happen."
Lucy blinked away a fresh tear, her voice barely above a whisper as she added, "I'm so scared… I feel like I have no escape."
Scott's protective grip tightened slightly as he met her eyes. "We'll figure it out together, okay? I'm here for you, always."
In that quiet, fragile moment, Lucy's confession hung in the air—a raw truth mingled with the hope that, with her brother's unwavering support, she might one day reclaim the life that Tyler had stolen from her. The room fell into a gentle silence as the weight of her words began to settle, and despite the pain, Lucy felt a small spark of determination take root within her.