The Flame Within (AU)

I observe

The hum of the engine filled the car, steady and unobtrusive. Outside, Beacon Hills unfolded in neat streets and scattered trees, the morning light brushing against houses with a soft golden glow.

Melissa adjusted the rearview mirror, brushing her hair back from her face with a careful, practiced motion. "You'll like it here," she said softly. "It's quieter than most places you've been."

I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't get stuck. "Oh, perfect. Another pep talk from someone who doesn't even know me. You don't have to sell it quiet is all I need anyway. Well, that and people who actually leave me alone."

Melissa's fingers tightened briefly on the wheel, but her voice stayed calm, even with a faint trace of amusement. "I don't need to know you yet. We'll figure it out. One step at a time."

I leaned back, arms crossed, smirk tugging at my lips. "Yeah, sure. Figure it out. Just like the rest of them. I'll bet you'll be as quick to give up as everyone else. Don't worry, I've got a timetable."

She let out a tiny sigh and focused on the road, ignoring the jab. I couldn't help myself from testing her. "I hope you're ready for attitude. I don't do fake smiles or small talk. I notice everything, and I say what I think. Don't like it? Tough."

Melissa didn't blink. She only gave the slightest tilt of her head. Calm. Unshakable. "I don't expect you to be anything other than yourself. That's fine with me."

I stared out the window, smirk fading slightly as I cataloged her confidence. Comfortable, steady, deliberate... practiced. That could be dangerous. Or maybe she'd last longer than I expected. Either way, I would watch, silently.

The car slowed in front of a modest house tucked behind tall pines. Melissa parked, cutting the engine. "Ready?" she asked gently.

I pushed the door open without answering, coat folded neatly across my lap. The air smelled of pine and damp earth, soft and grounding. Inside, the house was warm wood floors and sunlight spilling through the windows. A television murmured faintly in the background.

"Scott," Melissa called softly from the kitchen. "Come meet your foster sister."

A boy appeared, maybe my age, shifting awkwardly, eyes curious but cautious.

"Selene, this is Scott," Melissa said.

I gave him a once-over and smirked. "So... you're the next one, huh? Hope you like babysitting. Doesn't usually last long."

Scott's eyes went wide, like this girl's really gonna be living with us? He glanced at Melissa. "Mom... can I talk to you for a second?"

Melissa followed him into the kitchen, and I didn't move but stepped just a little closer, straining to hear.

"Why are we taking her in?" Scott hissed. "She's rude, Mom! Like... very rude! Are you even sure we can do this?"

Melissa's voice stayed steady, firm. "Scott, this is the right thing to do. She has no one. I'm not about to let this girl be alone while everyone else gives up on her. You need to be patient with her. Understand?"

Scott groaned, exasperated. "Fine! But I'm not talking to her. Not if she's gonna be mean."

I smirked, satisfied, and leaned against the wall, watching as Melissa returned from the kitchen.

"You were listening," she said softly, exhaling.

"Not my fault you two weren't exactly whispering," I shot back, sharp. "If you wanted privacy, maybe go to a different room? Or is that too much to ask?"

Melissa pressed her lips together, a faint sigh escaping, but she didn't argue. "Let me show you your room."

She led me down the hall, pointing things out. "My room's here. Bathroom's across the hall. Scott's is next to it. And this" she opened the door "is yours. If you need anything, let me know."

I met her steady gaze, smirked, and said, "Don't worry. I won't." Then I slammed the door in her face, letting the echo roll down the hall.

Hours passed. I stayed in my room, cataloging the patterns of creaks in the walls, the faint hum of the fridge, the muffled footsteps upstairs. The house was predictable, safe, and I watched it all. Then Melissa's voice called from downstairs, firm but hurried:

"I'm heading to work! Call if you need anything!"

I ignored her.

An hour later, a sharp yell broke the quiet. Scott's voice, frantic: "I thought you were a predator!"

I crept toward the window, squinting against the afternoon light. Outside, Scott and a wiry, hyper-looking kid I hadn't noticed before climbed into an old, beat-up blue jeep parked at the curb. The engine sputtered before roaring to life, and the jeep rattled down the street, carrying them off.

I didn't follow. I didn't ask. Observation was safer. Patterns in Beacon Hills were shifting, layering over each other, subtle yet undeniable. I cataloged it all silently, knowing already that my arrival here had begun to disturb those patterns.

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