Alone • Liam Dunbar

Thirty-One

"Scott, wait, please!"

I chase after him out into the hall, desperate to amend what's fractured. He ignores me and hurriedly makes his way downstairs. The only form of acknowledgment he had spared was a slight shake of his head after opening the door, and his lack of reaction was unbearable.

"Scott, please," I openly plead as we descend the steps to the first level of the house.

"Leave me alone, Jac," he counters, almost irritated.

Malia, Mason, and Theo were all making conversation in the living room, but fall silent as they pick up on Scott and I's combined rapid footsteps and my urgent tone. They eye us curiously, unsure of what was occurring in front of them.

"What's going on?" Lydia asks, concerned. Her tone is hushed despite her worry, as she's considerate of the chimera still sleeping in her lap.

Neither of us stops to answer her or explain anything to the others. I can't even think about slowing down as Scott throws the front door open and marches outside. I follow him, both of us stepping out into the dead of night. The most illumination we get is from the growing moon above us, but I can't take that as anything helpful.

Scott heads for his bike, revealing he had no plans to stay and talk things out. Unable to let him drive off with this being how things ended, I reach for his shoulder to pull him back.

"Scott-"

He whips around, bringing his arm up to shove mine off of him. It's not entirely forceful, but the action is so abrupt and unlike him that it leaves me in a brief stunned silence. All I'm able to do is stare, taking in the fire in his eyes directed at me.

"You lied to me," he grits out.

A dull ache sets into my body as his tone seems more hurt than rageful for a moment. I didn't want that. I didn't want any of this. This was exactly what I feared would happen and tried to prevent, yet it was happening anyway.

"How long?" he asks.

Impatiently, Scott watches me. His jaw is wound tight as he attempts to suppress his rising temper. The gravity of the situation, my silence, and the temptations of the waxing moon above do nothing to help him.

"How long?!" he repeats fiercely.

I meet his gaze shamefully, the residual tears from before gathering in my eyes once more.

"Since we came back from La Iglesia," I whisper.

Scott's face drops at my confession. His frustration seems to disappear as utter betrayal takes over. There's something that shifts in the way he looks at me then, and I want more than anything for it to fade.

"You've been lying to me for months?" he breathes out.

I take a step forward, reaching for him. Scott takes a step back.

"Please, Scott, don't be mad," I beg helplessly. "I didn't do it to hurt you."

"What else are you lying about?" Scott asks, unbothered by my plea.

His question brings forward memories from the operating theater; the pain of the Dread Doctor's practical torture and prodding. I had hidden that from him, too, but couldn't bring myself to tell him about it now. How could I?

"Nothing," I counter pathetically.

Scott scoffs. "I don't believe you."

His eyes harden the more he looks at me, as if he's turning to stone and there's nothing I can do to stop it.