War isn't over • LM / SS

Chapter 7 - blackmail

Stiles had destroyed countless lives— Allison's, Aiden's, Lydia's, hers— and not once had he even attempted to apologise for it. Alright, logically speaking, some of that hadn't been his fault. Okay, and maybe she couldn't talk about karma, because if that was the case, she should be well below ground by now. Look, we're getting off track here. She was talking about Stiles, not her.

A crash split through the air. Slicing through flesh followed, the noise finally settling.

Stiles had pulled the pin at the top of the scaffolding, causing the pipes and construction materials to fall. He must have realised, to some degree, what had happened, realised why the weight had disappeared from his legs. Otherwise, he wouldn't have taken so long to glance down. He seemed to think that not looking would make it less real, that maybe if he hadn't seen it, it hadn't happened.

A pole had sliced straight through Donovan, blood spluttering down the front of his shirt as he choked. Yet he was still breathing, his chest heaving wheezy, deep breaths.

Jade watched as Stiles climbed down the scaffolding, ready to reveal herself, to walk down the steps and try to corrupt him, the same way she had almost successfully corrupted Malia. She paused, an idea striking her. What use was there in corrupting him when she had leverage on him? Oh, she was still planning his downfall, but this was an opportunity too good to miss. Now, she wasn't one to resort to blackmail— no, she had a much better idea.

There was no use in her corrupting him, not when he was doing a fine job of that himself. He had his hand on the pole, with every intention to pull it out, to try and get Donovan to a hospital before he lost too much blood. That was, until Donovan growled lowly, almost a warning that he would finish what he had started. Stiles faltered, suddenly debating whether it was a good idea to help or not.

The ethical question of what would happen to his dad if he brought Donovan to safety, that moment of hesitation, had paved the path for everything that happened next. Donovan's whole body shuddered as he took a final breath, head lolling backwards, eyes fluttering closed. Mercury and more blood spilt from the stab wound in his stomach, confirming the belief that he had been made, just like Tracy. A chimera.

Jade watched curiously as Stiles panicked silently, wondering what his next move was going to be. She raised a brow when he finally shuffled on his feet, typing a number into the phone on the receptionist's desk. He was hardly going to ring Scott, right? She started to get confused when his mouth stayed firmly shut, a faint female voice on the opposite end of the line.

For someone who had just murdered someone, she thought he seemed relatively calm. Stiles had always been a nervous person, barely able to go into a shop on his own without having a panic attack. So, in her opinion, it was odd that he wasn't flustered by what had happened. He was being calculative, thinking of anything that could tie him back to the scene. She had to hand it to him; he had done enough research into crime cases to know how to cover up a murder of his own creation.

He propped the door open with a book, ready to run for his life before his phone vibrated, blood running as cold as ice. God, he was going to be sick. His hand shook as he pulled his phone from Donovan's jacket, declining the seventeenth call from Max. With one final look at the body, he left.

Jade waltzed out of the doors, heading home. It seemed like her revenge board needed updating! Well, wasn't it funny how quickly the tables turned?

She wasn't the only one with blood on her hands now.

⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝

"The Dread Doctors, by T.R McCammon," Lydia furrowed her brows, reading the front cover of a novel that Malia was showing her.