if retail therapy actually worked, i wouldn't be concussed.
___
"SO, TELL ME AGAIN, why did he have to tagalong?" Lydia asked with her usual mousey voice. Pouting her bottom lip, she glances away from the road and to the passenger seat.
A rasped groan rumbles out of Paxton. She rolls her eyes as the memory of the morning comes to mind. It had already been frustrating enough, and now, with the addition of the uninvited guest in the backseat, it becomes complete and utter annoyance.
She didn't think it would be impossible to live at Derek's—and for the last forty-eight hours, it hasn't been—but the adjustment to residing with three werewolves definitely had its downside, especially ones that rise with the sun.
At her house, Sunday's were meant for catching up on a weeks' worth of missed sleep by sleeping in until noon. Imagine the shock when she had been jolted awake with the incessant noise of music blaring from a radio. She learned quickly that Derek starts his days by working out in the middle of the loft—and without any warning.
She tried to drown out the bass of the radio by suffocating her ears with a pillow, but even that couldn't help, it had been turned to full volume and vibrated the floor she slept on.
Eventually the exhaustion overtook her, and she fell back asleep.
But twenty minutes later, the cycle repeated. This time, the interruption was in the hands of Isaac—literally. He had decided that it would be the perfect time to push his bed back into a couch, and with that, move the table beside her head. It scraped against the hard floor like nails on a chalkboard.
She learned that the only one in the loft with some sense is Cora, who quietly nibbles away at a stack of pancakes in the kitchen. Paxton fought through the clouds fogging her brain, and made her way to the kitchen. Cora scooted a plate of food over, and the two exchanged a look of mutual annoyance. It was then when Cora informed Paxton that the noise is common, it happens nearly every morning, and she couldn't stand it either.
When she felt like facing the world, Paxton got ready for the plans she had made today. She snuck around the loft unnoticed, hurrying for the door, until suddenly, the radio clicked off and the room fell silent.
Derek had stopped his count of sit-ups to ask where she was going. She stopped at the door, where she squeezed her eyes shut and spun around to face him with a plastered-on smile. Like always, she danced around the truth, but that only made him question her more.
Cora defended her, saying it's none of his business where Paxton went, and when Derek rambled on about how Paxton's his responsibility now, Cora simply replied with, "Come on, Derek. She doesn't have to tell you, it's not like you're her parent, nor her brother."
And though Paxton could appreciate the sentiment, Cora's innocent words stung to hear.
The debate goes on for what felt like forever, making Paxton miss the time she had told Lydia and Allison to meet at. But ended with Isaac saying he could just go with Paxton. He made it sound so simple, he just didn't know he would follow her into trouble.
Still pouting her lip, Lydia turns back to road, and trees that fill the forest beside it. "This was supposed to be a girl's day," she whined. "We never get to do things like this anymore. We had the summer, but Allison wasn't there for it."
For a moment, Paxton smiled. She didn't realize how much it might mean to Lydia. It reminds her of the handful of summer nights where the two would share Lydia's bed while they watched cheesy movies and stuffed their faces with popcorn.
"He had nothing better to do," Paxton guessed, shrugging her shoulders. She turns to Lydia, sharing her smile, watching as the boy behind them rolls his eyes.
"Hey!" he started an attempt at defending himself, but he couldn't. Paxton was right, he had nothing better to do.
Paxton ignores him, keeping her eyes on Lydia. "Besides, I wouldn't exactly say we're having a 'girls day'."
"I could still consider it a girls day," Lydia argued. "I have my girls," she glances up to her mirror to find Allison's face. "And, it's daytime," she shrugged, turning back to the road. "But then, there's Isaac."
He slumps back in his seat beside Allison, and mumbles out, "I can be one of the girls."
He watches as the two in front of him slowly turn to each other, and then to him. Both wearing the same face of smiles and pressed-together eyebrows. A side of his mouth curls with a smile resembling theirs, blissfully unaware of himself. Allison shakes her head beside him, quietly laughing. The simple laughter becomes an avalanche, and soon the whole car is full of hyenas.
Once they settle, Lydia smiles to herself mischievously. "You know, you still owe me money," Lydia reminded him, watching through the mirror as his face falls.
He sits up in his seat quickly, hoping the fast movement distracts Lydia. "Hey, where're we going anyways?" he asked Paxton, leaning over her shoulder.
"Why?" Paxton asked, cutting her eyes over to the boy invading her space. "So you can tell Derek?" she jokingly questioned, her eyes narrowing down on him.
Her mouth falls open for a second before turning into a wide smile. She quickly smacks a hand against his shoulder, and he pretends to take offense by scoffing and flying back into his seat.
"I'd hate to agree with the spy back there, but I would also like to know," said Lydia. She purses her lips, glancing to the map displayed on the screen above the gearshift. "Why did I have to clean out my trunk for Allison's bow?"
"You did what?" Isaac jumped back up in his seat, eyes wide. A look of confusion mixes with his want for telling Derek immediately.
The ride to the furthest corner of the preserve had been bumpy, and full of unannounced surprises. Both Allison and Paxton spent it hiding the truth of their destination, and the reasoning behind it. They knew the others wouldn't approve.
But this had been planned for a while.
What Paxton saw in Allison, she envied. Allison kept herself gracefully brave in the face of danger. That night long ago when Matt Daehler had terrorized the police department, had been the first time Paxton had seen anything like it. Allison didn't falter against the chaos around, she kept her head high and her bow close.
Paxton wanted that, to never be afraid. To have something that gave her power. To be ready for battle at any moment—whether that's with a trained skill in archery, or simply strength in overcoming the shock of being under attack.
Allison wasn't against the idea of showing Paxton a thing or two about weapons, but Chris Argent had banned the use of knives, guns, and bows from their new home. Luckily, Allison knew the hidden codes for the hundreds of safes that stored the artillery.
They didn't have to tell Lydia about their plan for the day, she agreed as soon as she got an invitation to spend time together. And now, with that spy Isaac joining them as they make the trek through the woods, they still don't speak of what's to come.
It's not until Allison places her black duffel bag atop the dead leaves covering the forest's floor, where the question rises again.
"Hey, does anyone want to explain what we're doing out here now?" Isaac asked, his confused stare stuck on the bag. His mouth falls open, growing more bewildered. He glances between Allison and Paxton, who do anything they can to avoid him.
Allison quickly unzips the bag, and begins handing foreign objects to Paxton. First the bow, which weighs her down and nearly collapses her.
"Oh, no— no, no, we're not doing this," Isaac shook his head as the rambled words fall. He took the posture of a worried father, his hands tight against his waist, tapping a foot against the ground. "Absolutely not."
Paxton glares up to him, holding the arch of the bow with both hands like it weighed the same amount of a small skyscraper. "What is your problem?"
"You're about to turn these trees into a shooting range! That thing," he pointed to the bow that tilts her over as he spoke, "is carrying you more than you are it!"
"I need to learn self defense, Isaac," she grumbled out before carefully placing the bow back into Allison's hands. Watching as the brunette holds it with ease.
"And you're gonna do that with a bow?" he questioned, and loudly. His voices echoes throughout the trees. "You're better off with a gun, at least you can hold that!"
Lydia hold a finger up, pausing their small argument, and with a small scoff, she says, "I thought we were going shopping," she searched the faces of the unwanting group around her. "You know, retail therapy? We could all use some therapy after everything we've been through."
"I don't even have money," Isaac said. "You keep trying to take all of it!"
"Don't blame me, it's not my fault Paxton— nevermind."
Allison shrugs. "Look, we can go shopping after this, it'll only take a few hours."
"A few hours?" Lydia whined as she looked around the hauntingly quiet woods. "What if something tries to kill us?" she added in a hushed, and worried voice. Careful in case someone's listening from a distant tree.
Allison shook her head slowly, and against her choice, she rolls her eyes. "Nothing's going to kill us out here, we're in the middle of nowhere."
"My point exactly! We could die out here, and never be found!"
Paxton sighed out a quick, "we're not gonna die out here," before taking a few paper targets from Allison's hands.
Isaac's head totters from side to side, weighing the two sides of their dispute. "Well," his head leans further to one side. "Something could kill us out here," he said slowly, looking up to the many annoyed glares facing him. "You know, something sacrificing a bunch of people! Something we know nothing about!"
"God," Paxton groaned. "You sound like Stiles."
"Yeah," Isaac laughed softly. "If he were here he'd probably tell you how bad of an idea this is."
She straightens up for a moment, then starts for the nearest tree. As she tapes a target to the bark, she continues on. "Nothing's gonna hurt us, and even if something does, Allison has her bow, I can, like, fight them—or something—And, Isaac," she spins around to find him, "you're literally a werewolf, you can heal faster than I can breathe. We'll be fine."
"Then it's settled," Allison smiles. Paxton makes her way back to her, trudging through the ankle-high piles of orange and greying leaves. "I'll teach her self-defense," Allison hands Paxton a small knife with a ringlet that fits a finger. Watching Paxton mess with the sharp tip, she adds, "since you two think we're going to die out here, you can keep watch."
Isaac rolls his eyes at Allison's beaming smile. He couldn't argue with it, knowing the importance of wanting to defend himself. It wouldn't be a bad idea in his mind if anyone else had known of it, or if anyone trained Paxton besides Allison. He figured Derek could teach her more than the bow-wielding girl who once tried to kill his pack.
While Allison begins to teach a few basic maneuvers with the knife Paxton's fascinated by, Isaac moves to Lydia's side and plops down on the leaves. He pats the space between them, inviting her to sit, but she glances down to her expensive skirt, and decides against it.
The girls moved up to a slightly larger weapon, still a knife, just with a longer blade. "Using these, you have to be one step ahead of your opponent."
Paxton nods along to each thing Allison tells her thoughtfully, and watches just as carefully as Allison takes the dagger from her.
Allison dances gracefully with the dagger clutched in her grip, pretending to move around an attacker. She shifts her weight from one leg to the other, the blade reflects the sun's light above them, glaring into Paxton's eyes.
"Is it hard to stab someone?" Paxton questioned, her racing thoughts being spoken aloud without much effort to stop them. "I— I mean, you know, is it like punching someone? It takes a lot to do?"
Allison's eyes widen, her mouth falling slightly. "Well," she hesitated as she glances down to the blade of the dagger. "I've never stabbed anyone. You wouldn't with these, it's more a slicing movement."
She demonstrates the technique. With precision on her invisible target, she bounces her weight onto the leg furthest from it. Her arms create a shield around her chest before she glides the dagger down the target.
The silence around them is suddenly full of soft laughter. Allison and Paxton turn to the source.
Isaac shakes his head, remembering a time where he had been the victim of Allison's knives.
"Maybe you should teach her how to throw a punch first," he offered the idea.
"I know how to punch someone," said Paxton, impatiently tapping a foot against the ground.
"Oh, you do?" he teased. He jumps to his feet, smirking boldly. He stands before her, head held high with disbelief. Paxton dully stares up to him, already decided against practicing her punch on him. "Let me see, then."
She looks to the hand he holds out for her, then to his overly confident expression. "I'm not gonna punch you, Isaac."
"Why not? You know how to do it, right?"
"Right."
"Have you ever punched a werewolf?"
Her bored face stares a hole into the palm of his hand. "Something tells me I'm about to."
"Well, it's different than hitting other people! It's not as easy, it'll hurt you more than the other person."
He continues on about the difference while she thinks it over for a moment, drowning his condescending tone out. She had hit Derek before—by accident—and Isaac's right, it did hurt her more. Derek didn't even budge.
But listening to dull ache of Isaac's voice, she quickly realized she doesn't care if it hurts her. She just wanted him to sit back down and be quiet.
"What if you punched a wolf, and they—"
His words are cut short by exactly what he rambled on about. She had punched him, and with as much force she could muster up. In shock, he keeps his hand steady in front of her. She watches as a small, red circle forms under the skin of his palm. And before she could exhale the breath she held, the light bruise disappears.
"What the hell!" he recoiled his hand, shaking the pain away. His brows pushed together, he turns to her while Lydia and Allison hold back there laughter.
"What? You wanted me to hit you!" Paxton laughed, not caring to hide it.
But she does conceal how horribly her own hand hurts. The pain coarsed through her, from her knuckles, up to her wrist, throbbing into her arm.
"I wasn't prepared!" he argued, now holding his pain with a squeezed fist. "Do it again."
She looks to his other hand that he throws up in front of her eyes. "Isaac, I didn't even want to hit you the first time, why would I want to do it again?"
"Because I asked."
"You didn't ask!"
"I did, too! I said 'do it again'. That was me asking!"
"Asking and demanding are two different things, Isaac," she laughed at him. "Just say you were wrong and that I know what I'm doing, then sit back down."
"What if you hit someone that was expecting it? Paxton, you'd be dead in a second!"
"You were expecting it! You're just mad it actually hurt."
He scoffed, brows twisting together. "It did not hurt."
Allison, still attempting to hide her laughter, steps between them. "Okay, can you just sit down?" she asked Isaac before turning to Paxton. "As much as I enjoy seeing a guy get proven wrong, we still have a lot to go over."
"I'd like to get out of here before—"
The three glance to where Lydia stands, waiting in anticipation for her to finish her sentence. But, it's clear she has no intentions of continuing.
Lydia's eyes drill into the forest floor, wide and frightened. Her nose flares slightly, brows raising against her forehead.
The group stops their bickering completely, nothing but the profound silence of the forest is left to settle, interrupted by the distant rustling of leaves. The air hung still, carrying a sense of worry as the sunlight above them disappeared behind a cloud.
Like time had stood still, for a moment nothing could be heard, not the leaves, not the squirrels pacing from branch to branch. Not even the breeze through limbs of trees whistle.
It's as if nature were preparing.
Lydia's straining eyes squeeze shut, her face scrunching with it. She inhales deeply before her mouth falls open and roars.
The scream shattered the stillness, a raw outburst echoing through her air. Its intensity vibrates the ground with a blend of fear and urgency, as if the sound itself bore witness to an unseen attack.
It cut through the silence with a jagged edge, leaving an unsettled imprint on the forest around them. The wind picks up, dragging a small tornado of leaves across the open area. Branches crack under the pressure, some even falling.
Both Allison and Paxton wince at the noise, but neither were as affected as Isaac is.
He slams his hands over his ears and falls to the ground with his knees buckling him down, the cry for help weighing him down. For a moment, as nature begins to heal, he almost believes his ears were bleeding.
Paxton kneels down beside him, wrapping an arm around him. Comforting him with quiet reassurance, telling him it's over, and that he's okay.
Allison starts for Lydia, who had also fallen to the ground. She sits on her knees, hands digging into the ground. The dirt stains the beds of her nails, her eyes welling with tears.
Isaac picks his head up, hands falling from his ears. He wanted to speak, to ask what had happened, but he couldn't. No one could. They had never seen anything like it, nothing powerful enough to bend time and nature against its will.
Innocent, and completely unaware, Lydia glances up to Allison. The tears spill from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks. Allison holds onto her trembling hands while glancing over her shoulder to Paxton. They share a faded smile of comfort.
And suddenly, the two had it in common; being graceful in times of trouble. A beacon of light shining through the darkness. Allison passes her metaphorical torch over to her.
Lydia's dry throat forces out a cough, hoping for relief. "It's—" she tried to explain her sudden outburst, but her tender throat cracks like a whip against her voice. She lowers her head, swallowing against her swelling nodes. "It's Derek," she finally managed through a rasped croak. "He's— he's in trouble."
Isaac jolts up, knocking Paxton over as he does. "What? What do you mean? He's in trouble? How?"
He pressed his questions, standing in front of Lydia. Her head slowly lifts up, away from the view of his beat-up shoes, and to his wildly concerned expression.
"I don't— I don't know," she blinked, her head falling back down. Allison rubs her hand in gentle circles against her back. "It was dark."
"It?" Isaac's eyes bulged. "You can see something?"
Paxton moves to his side, pulling against his arm to give Lydia some space. Allison glances up to her before pointing her eyes to the black duffel bag behind Paxton. She turns around, finding what Allison pointed out.
She hurries back with a plastic bottle filled to the brim with water. She unscrews the lid and passes it to Allison, who then helps Lydia drink it.
"Lydia, what did you see?" Paxton asked, more gently than Isaac could.
Lydia's eyes blinked rapidly for a moment, then squeezes shut. "It's— it's dark," her head shook as she spoke. "There's columns, but they're all fallen down. It's a big building," she paused, trying to focus better. Isaac takes the break to let out a muffled groan. "Derek's there, so is Boyd, and another—a girl."
"Cora," Paxton assumed, glancing over to Isaac as he starts pacing anxiously behind her.
"They just got there," Lydia continued. "They're alone, but—"
Everyone hung onto her words. "But?" Isaac pressed.
"Someone else is there, a group of them."
The heavy air weighs them down, making it difficult to breathe. The look to one another, as the molasses chokes their lungs, hoping someone has a clue of what to do.
"We should call Scott," Allison broke the silence first.
Paxton ignores her as she hurries to her duffel bag. "Lydia, what else did you see?"
Eyes still shut, Lydia shook her head. "I don't— I can't see anything."
"Well, scream again!" Isaac told her, quick to cover his ears. When she doesn't, he drops his hands, and adds, "Well, do something! He could be dead by now!"
"You do something!" Paxton argued for the girl who falls quiet. "You're in his pack, can't you, like, howl?"
"I'm not the one that started screaming and saying he's dead! Besides, it doesn't work like that."
Allison joins them, phone in hand. "Guys, Scott's not answering."
"This is bad," Isaac groans, pacing back and forth again. "This is really bad."
"It's the alpha's, they're going after him," Paxton said, her eyes widening on a dead leaf next to her hand. She looks up to Allison, then Isaac. "She's right, they're gonna kill him."
"Then we need to find out where they're at!" said Isaac, hands shuffling through his hair.
"What are we supposed to do, Isaac? Drive around town and stop at every abandoned building? There's like twenty in the industrial park alone!"
Lydia lifts her head, eyes flashing open. She looks to Paxton first, thinking over her choice of words. Drive around.
"I can find them," Lydia announced, gaining the attention of everyone. "I can find them, I know how. I did it that night I found the lifeguard. I did it when Mr. Felch went missing, too."
Paxton tilts her head, remembering how she wondered why Lydia had been with Deaton and Stiles a few days ago. It answered her question, and filled in a few blanks in her mind.
"Why're we just standing here?" Isaac hurried them to stand up. "Let's go!"
They shuffled around, Paxton helped Allison grab her things. Isaac held onto Lydia, aiding her shaking body in standing. He guides her to the car, and the others meet up with them.
They had driven in a silence that hurt more than Lydia's unearthly wail. No one could talk, the quiet spoke for them. Swelling with worry, and suffocating with fear. Lydia's driving sways the car, causing everyone to add wrecking to the list of problems.
Isaac sits beside her, his leg bouncing against the floorboard. He picks at his nails while he keeps track of how far Lydia strays into the wrong lane. Every-so-often, he reaches for the steering wheel, which always results in Lydia slapping his hand away.
The car's speed accelerates before abruptly turning. While everyone yells at the driver, Lydia keeps her eyes on the road, determined to end her torture as close to the building they've discovered as she could get.
The cracked cement of an empty parking lot echoes the hollowness that pervades the eery exterior of an even more desolate shopping mall. Faded signs, the letters chipped away, hint at the brands that once caught the eye of shoppers. Hidden behind broken boards of woods, the windows—now opaque with grime—somewhat reveal the remnants of broken mannequins frozen in time. Like most of the building.
"Well, at least you can go shopping. You know, retail therapy?" Paxton nudged Lydia's shoulder, smilingx She receives nothing but an annoyed glance.
Weeds and vines grow along the skeleton, nature reclaiming it. Eventually, with many passing years, the structure will collapse.
The entrance, more secured than the windows, have a metal casing guarding the glass doors, leaving them to search for an alternative way inside.
Near the spine of the mall, a fence hides the exits from the public's view. A fence made of chainlink, and with a little force, could be broken into.
Isaac's idea; jump the fence.
Lydia's quick to turn the plan down, not wanting to break a heel. Though, she's surprised the hike throughout the woods didn't beat jumping over a fence to it. With her denying the idea, the group decides it might be best if she stays back. They couldn't have her screaming and reveal their location to anyone inside—or anyone in the surrounding towns.
It left the wolf, the skilled archer, and the girl who can throw a punch to decide how to get inside.
While Allison and Isaac argue about strategy, Paxton sneaks off while they're distracted. The dagger she kept hidden inside the sleeve of the sweatshirt she wears slips down into her hand. Her finger curls around the handle's ring, and she guards it with her chest, not wanting to draw the attention of the two behind her.
The blade slices through the chainlink fence swiftly, and with strained pressure deciding the movement. After parting the metal links, she hides the dagger once again before standing back and revealing the ripped fence to Isaac and Allison.
The gentleman that he is, Isaac bends the fence for them, enlarging the hole for them to squeeze through, and when he joins them on the other side, he hurries for the exit door without hesitation.
"Wait," Paxton stopped him, holding his arm back before he could open the door. "We don't know what's going on in there, we should come up with a plan, or—or something."
He shifts out of her hold and his hand clicks open the handle of the door. "I don't need a plan, they never work anyways."
He disappears into the shadows of a long corridor, and slowly, the door closes behind him, latching shut and leaving a breeze in its fall.
"What do we do?"
Paxton turned to Allison, pondering the many outcomes. "I hope your training worked," is all Paxton could respond with before following after Isaac.
Though Allison is quick to trail behind, Paxton can't combat the loneliness manifesting inside her. Her mind wonders to a sweet spot; to Stiles, and the space he takes up in her thoughts.
Is he aware that Derek is falling into a death trap? That his pack, and Scott included, will be fighting for their lives against a great unknown.
The dimly lit corridor seemed never ending. Stretching for miles, shadows dancing along the decaying walls. Every creak and distant whisper reminded them that danger is near. The exit, barely visible in the distance, seemed both a beacon and a portal to an unknown peril.
They girls pressed on cautiously, with their hands hovering above their weapons, concern etched on their faces.
Isaac was lost in the darkness, probably too impatient to wait for them, he had exited the hall without care of when they'd catch up.
As they near the exit, distant voices grew louder, carrying an eerie resonance. Their shared glance wore a mixture of nervousness and determination. With a deep breath they reach for the door's handle, stepping into the unknown, guided by hope and the worrying mystery that awaits beyond.
The creaky door swung open, revealing the desolate lobby of the abandoned mall. Dust danced in the stagnant air, and the silence was broken only by the distant echoes of their footsteps. The sight of an endless escalator leading to the second story added a surreal touch to the scene, as if time had frozen in this forgotten retail labyrinth.
They couldn't see Isaac, couldn't see anyone yet. The absence of their friend, and the pack he chased after, heightened the unsettling feeling that something was wrong.
From the shadows, Derek emerged. His figure materialized in the dim light of what was once a skylight, now scattered with broken glass on the floor.
The atmosphere swirled with relief, and for a moment, Paxton could breathe.
But only a moment.
Against Allison's dismay, Paxton hesitated in that short lived moment before stepping further into the suffocating lobby. It's there, a step ahead of Allison, where her gaze catches a glimmer of a man perched on the broken escalator. Deucalion, his chin high, eyes low. He bore a tired look down to the bottom floor. A palpable sense of hunger in the air, suffocating more than the dust.
Amidst the unbreathable silence, the echoing sound of dripping water punctures the trance created between the two alphas. Hollow footsteps thumped into the light casted onto Derek.
"It doesn't have to be this way," Scott declared, revealed now beside Derek. His voice vibrated against the cement walls, deep and powerful, cryptic and outspoken with worry.
Paxton glanced over her shoulder, to Allison. At least now, they know why Scott didn't answer his phone.
"You didn't come alone," Deucalion's relaxed posture leans against his cane, he turns to Scott as his words ring through the building.
Scott ignores him, his full attention placed onto Derek as the man steps further toward Deucalion. "Derek, don't. You can't do this... if someone else dies—"
Derek cuts him off, his finger pointing up to Deucalion. A sharp edge of a claw's shadow casted against the floor. "Him. Just him."
Charmed by Derek's naivety, a crooked smile pulls against Deucalion's face. "Just me?" he questioned before the facade of humor falls. "Tell me, how does a blind man find his way into a place like this? All on his own?"
Just as the dust settled once again in the cracked interior, Allison reaches for Paxton, pulling her into the safety of the shadow. Instincts raise the hairs on Paxtons arms, telling her it's time to put the training into action.
Without saying anything, Allison presses a finger against her lips, warning Paxton to stay quiet. Her other hand motions to the corner of what was once a clothing store. Paxton could hide there until it's safe while Allison hurries for high ground, clutching onto the bow in her hand.
But Paxton couldn't sit around and wait, not while more danger emerged from the shadows. Nothing was safe inside the building, she couldn't hide even if she wanted to.
Cement crumbled down a column that holds up the second floor, and everyone turns to the noise—which happens to be directly in front of Paxton.
They watch as brown hair washes down the column, claws dug into the hard surface. Bits and pieces of the rocky material fall to the floor as Kali reveals herself to the anticipated crowd.
Next is Ennis, standing tall and bulky as he strides into the light of the lobby. His eyes hauntingly glow, claws sharpened at his sides. He jumps out of the shadows beside Derek and Scott, laughing at how the younger boy's muscles tense with fear. He moves to Kali's side where they wait for their orders.
But they were still a few missing.
One Paxton couldn't bare to see among the conflict. It would compress any ounce of hopeful optimism she had experienced after being shown her mother's unnervingly complex compassion for her.
But, as the woman Paxton didn't seek steps to Deucalion's side, it buries the last sentiment the daughter held.
The sight of her mother standing confident in the face of battle made her sick. Nauseous to the point of needing to bend over.
Paxton's shown a small glint of what one of her options could've been in this life—had she chosen to stray away from her friends and down a path of solitude, of immoral behavior, of selfishness.
She despised her mother so much, she took the anger out on the dagger's handle as it slips back down to her hand. Her nose snarled, and she almost dared to cry out her anger while rushing for the women.
The thought made her gasp.
Could she be so desperate for revenge that she might kill the woman that she couldn't recognize as her mother?
Her exhale of breath carried throughout the room, echoing like every minuscule noise around.
As if timed, everyone turned their heads to her safe, unsuspecting shadow.
Run, she told herself. They didn't get you before, but they'll get you now.
But she couldn't move. Her eyes glance over to Derek and Scott, chin trembling with fear as they both share the same concern. They could hear it, the sound of her drumming heartbeat, it contrasted with the lulled and controlled pattering of the other wolves. It was obvious, and in a matter of seconds, they'll know her location.
Derek proclaimed earlier that day that Paxton is his responsibility now, much like the others living under his roof, and he must've remembered it.
He steps further toward Deucalion, glaring at the man in hopes that the gasp could go unnoticed. Deucalion's attention falls back to the point of their meeting, to Derek, to Scott. With that, his followers turn back to Derek as well. All except for Emily.
She's too distracted by a reflection of a shimmering light against a metal blade hidden in the depths of the distance to notice the others rising through the shadows.
Boyd and Cora move to Derek's side, snarling their noses to reveal their fanged teeth. Isaac's next. He steps out beside Paxton, hiding her with his body before glancing over his shoulder to her. His eyes widen, silently telling her to hide.
It only angers her. Why does everyone expect her to hide?
With his hands in his pockets, he smoothly glides around the remnants of chiseled walls, and broken ceiling panels. Moving to Scott's side.
Suddenly the ground shakes, and out comes the two twins Paxton had yet to fully meet. Ethan and Aiden, she couldn't tell which were which as they jumped from the second story landing, and cracked the floor beneath it.
Everyone's quiet, threats rising as they look to their opponents.
It's when both Derek, and Scott, turn their pointed glare to Deucalion, that Paxton understands their plan. They're not here to fight the pack, they're here to kill Deucalion.
It wouldn't be an easy fight, a guaranteed bloodbath. She weighed the options of staying or fighting as best she could while an invisible whistle blows to start the battle.
Like the start of a lacrosse game, the opposing teams rush forward. Cora and Boyd for Kali and Ennis. Scott and Isaac against the twins. And, Paxton, for the exit door she could easily sneak off to.
It slams shut behind her, leaving her with nothing but darkness as she listens to the fight she leaves behind. Walls break against heavy bodies, shaking the already deteriorating bones of the building. Growls, and the shredding of skin against knife claws. It caused her to fall to the floor with an uncontrollable fit of breath. Hyperventilating while the grime dirtying the floor finds her hands.
A scream rips through the air, not quite as penetrating as Lydia's, but Paxton could still feel the pain coarsing through her.
She turns around, hair falling around her with the breeze. Quickly, she stands up as the grunts of fallen soldiers crash against her ears.
She concentrates on the long, narrow path before her. Echoes of what she left behind bouncing around the walls. It shelters the sound of a door creaking open.
The running begins, had this corridor always been so long? She sprints for the exit, but the hall seems to grow long, narrower.
The walls were caving in. Another groan of pain breaks the still air. Growling, claws scratching. The ceiling felt as if it were collapsing.
That creaking door slams shut, and caused a rift to ripple through the hallway.
The closing walls and caving ceiling paused, along with the specks of dust that floated about.
She rushed further and further, dagger digging into her rough palm. The sound of footsteps echoed behind her. Is it her own shoe's pattering a beat behind? Had she gone mad? There it is again, the building shaking as a body flew into a crumbling wall.
And then their bodies crashed together.
She fell to the floor, knife clattering against the floor. The dim light shields her perpetrator, along with the person's dark clothing and hooded jacket covering their face.
Someone must've chased after her from the lobby. It couldn't be Allison, no, she watched the archer sneak off to the mall's second floor.
She counted the seconds it took to reach for the knife. One. Then, how many it took for her to find the right placement of her finger through its ringlet. Three.
It took her until five, to rise to her feet. Her head low, she keeps a focused eye on the dagger. Sweat beaded along her forehead, gluing strands of wild hair down.
Six, she looked up for that second, and with the next one passing, she brought the dagger to her chest like she had seen Allison do. Eight. She uses another arm to guard her chest.
The person in front of her stumbles back, gawking at the blade wielded in her hand. "You're gonna stab me?" he asked.
Ten. She couldn't hear his voice, just the dull ringing of a mixture of sounds. The fighting behind her, the grunts and groans of pain. The cement crashing to the floor, shattering into bits and pieces.
She glances up, finding his eyes. Dark, like hers. Terrified, too. Filled with apprehension as they widen. They didn't glow red like the murderers she knew.
The hood of his jacket falls to his neck, slowly revealing a head of brown, blonding hair. Much like hers.
"Charlie?" she gasped.
"You— you were gonna stab me?"
His voice his quiet, distant. He couldn't control the tears brimming his eyes, nor could he control the shift of emotions he felt for her. Viewing her now as a stranger, someone he couldn't recognize despite sharing the same face.
She hides the dagger quickly, back into her sleeve, not worrying about the cuts it slices into her arm. "We need to leave. You— We need to get out of here, okay?"
"I'm not going anywhere with you," he snarled, looking to her with disgust.
Her worry falls, breaking under the pressure. "What?" she muttered. "No, we need to leave. It's not safe, Charlie," she reaches for his arm, wanting to pull him down the hall to the exit door now that the walls were no longer caving in.
But he pulls out of her hold and takes a step back. He head slowly shakes as he stares to the floor.
"Come on, Charlie!" she tugs his arm again, but with the same result. He slips out of her reach, anger strewn across his face. "Charlie, now! We have to go! Lydia's outside, we can get in her car and—"
"You left us."
"Charlie, now's really not the time to talk about this."
It's not just his safety that concerns her, it's the fact that she would never want him to find out the truth of their mother the same way she had. If leaving made her out to be some betraying narcissist, let it.
She decided the moment she chose to leave that house, that she didn't care what Charlie painted her as. As long as he's safe, and their mother kept up her mirage of a happy family, she wouldn't care.
But the illusion is moments from shattering, and with every boom of a growl reverberating behind them.
She thought it was obvious that they're mother wouldn't put them in harms way, at least not completely. Paxton understood she was the exception. That being in the wrong place at the right time led to her finding out what their mother is.
She couldn't let Charlie have the same fate. He's innocent to all of it. The loss of Jackson in his life had loomed a dark cloud over him for months, and their mother had been the only thing lighting a spark in his eyes. Paxton couldn't let Charlie find out what she is, what she's done.
She would sooner die than allow him to be mixed up in that mess.
To imagine Charlie in her shoes that day in Derek's loft brought tears to her eyes. It would kill him. Emily Bridger would kill him, just like she killed any memory tied to Paxton.
"We need to leave, Charlie, you can't be here."
"You have no right telling me what I can't do!" he argued.
Suddenly they were back to that first night when Paxton had been forced to inform her brother of all that goes wrong throughout the night. The supernatural things that had threaten their entire
being ever since their father died. That continues to threaten them from under the roof of their own home.
"Charlie," she sighed. "Please."
He stays silent, inviting thoughts to flow. "What're you even doing here?" he asked, brows pushing together.
She would explain herself, but something else struck her mind.
"What are you doing here?" she repeated his question back to him. With less hidden intentions than he held, but still, with just as much confusion.
"I—" he started, but couldn't finish without releasing a sigh. "I asked you first."
"So?" she replied, childishly, but a reply nonetheless. Better than the silence he offers.
The building shakes around them, another victim of Deucalion's bouncing off a wall.
They couldn't ignore the noise wafting into the corridor. So, with his heavy silence still burdening her, Charlie hurries for the door she had left behind.
"Where're you going?" She chased after him, reaching for his arm, but the illusion of the shadows hallucinate how close she actually is to him.
"Stop following me, Paxton," he spun around, nearly causing her to crash into him. "Stop trying to protect me!"
"I'm not trying to protect you!" she lied just to spite him.
"Then leave! This isn't any of your business!"
She paused, head tilting as she thought of what his piercing voice yelled at her.
"Charlie," she sighed. "You don't know what you're talking about, okay? Let's just leave, I'll explain everything to you."
"Yeah," he scoffed. "Because you're so good at explaining things."
They near the door, the sounds of fighting coming to an abrupt end with one last growl.
"Charlie," she glanced between him and the door's handle where his hand lays. "There's things you don't know, and if you go in there, everything will change."
She tried to keep herself composed, having her own battle with the tears that dare break onto her cheek with a fiery stream that she'd never be able to control.
She can't let him have the same fate.
He worships their mother, this would crush him. Even if she couldn't understand the sentiment he carries for the woman, she could relate to the crushing of her memories when her mother wouldn't even share a glance to her direction inside Derek's loft.
She gripped the dagger behind ber back, thinking the worst thoughts imaginable.
"No," he laughed, quietly and without much effort. "There's things you have no idea about, Pax. Maybe if you would've listened to me, this wouldn't have happened like this."
Her brows crease. "What?" she breathed out. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Similar to him, she couldn't recognize her sibling. Couldn't pinpoint their matching smiles, or reflecting eyes.
Footsteps boom across the floor behind the door slowly, concentrating on each step as the noise nears the door.
Charlie turns to her, quickly shoving a hand into her stomach. She falls to the floor, landing her hands on the dust below. The blade digs further into her sleeve, ripping into the material. Better that than her skin.
She watches from below as he prepares himself with a heavy breath. His eyes close for a moment, and then light up at the sound of the door opening.
She couldn't see the person gripping onto the collar of Charlie's shirt, only that the person's hands were big and callused. Strong, the person tugs Charlie into the lobby.
She assumed it to be Ennis, which only caused her heart to shatter.
She loses the battle to her willing tears, they burn her skin as they flow down her cheeks, dripping onto the floor.
Like a phoenix, she rises. Stronger than ever. Fueled by something more powerful than fear. Maybe revenge, or anger. Perhaps it's that of losing her only family left.
She couldn't let him have that fate. She couldn't fight for her father, but she would for her brother.
She'd do anything for him, no matter the situation, or if they were fighting. Or, if they were lying to each other, dancing so close to the line of truth.
She burst through the door, dagger perfectly gripped in hand. Her nose flared, sending her tears on a new course down to her chin. She couldn't breathe but that doesn't matter to her.
The room had changed completely. Gravelled cement crumbles all around, she kicks it as she furthers into the desolate lobby. No one's around, but she could hear their distant voices.
"So, what do you say Derek?" Deucalion's booming voice carries itself around the building, echoing his growl.
She follows the voice, not wasting time between his next sentence. Carefully, she disregards the broken walls and trails of blood she passes, hurrying up the broken escalator, and to the second story.
But again, no one's around.
"An eye for an eye?" Deucalion's voice vibrated the floor, hung with a string of fury.
"Don't," Derek's defeated breath meets the still air.
Paxton finds herself, and everyone else, on the third story of the mall. The top floor, a far drop down to the bottom floor. The balcony had no railing, it had lost its life to time like much of the building had.
Ennis stands above Derek, a foot digging into his back. In his other hand, the color of Charlie's shirt. The cotton of the collar wraps around his fist. Charlie, gasps for air, terrified for his life.
"What?" Deucalion smirked, a few feet away from Paxton. "Do you not remember our little deal, Derek? You take a life, and you can join us. Live a life of power, it's rejuvenating."
Paxton's glare flickers between the man, to the woman beside him. Waves of blonde hair cascading down her back. The anger lights its spark.
"Wait!" another voice joined their conversation.
Scott, out of breath and completely defeated, notices Paxton in the distance behind Deucalion and Emily. But his wanting to stop wasn't just pointed to her. He knew what she'd do, it just didn't worry him as much as what Deucalion had planned.
"You can't do this! The hunters, they'll come for you!"
Scott's warning left little impact to the alpha pack. Only made them chuckle, or glance to their leader out of fear.
"And what do I care about some humans with guns?" Deucalion questioned. His eyes growing a darker shade of red behind his glasses. "As if they stand any chance against me!"
His voice shook the floor, almost collapsing it beneath their feet. A silence fell while Kali snickered at the remark of measly humans harming them. Ennis kept his hold on Charlie, and Derek. The two dangling too close to the edge of the balcony. One wrong move, that's all it would take.
Paxton stepped closer, her shoes cracking against shattered glass from the skylight above. Her grip on the dagger rubs her skin raw, but she couldn't feel the pain.
"Wait!" Scott repeated, now making it obvious that his warning had been pointed at Paxton.
He looks around, to Ennis and his victims beside him, to Isaac holding onto his bleeding chest to his left. Then, Kali, who holds back a fuming Cora, and bleeding Boyd.
He's warning her, telling her not to do anything. That he has it under control. If she starts after Deucalion now—while no one has a fight left in them—they'd all die.
"He's innocent! You can't hurt him," Scott pleaded with Deucalion, eyes flickering back to Charlie.
Charlie remains the same, a horrified mess.
"But I can," the leader smiled crookedly. "Can't I, Emily?"
He turns to his partner in crime, watching as a careful breath rises in her chest. Her head tilts up, and she glares down onto her son. Her mouth a straight line, jaw clenched. She's going to say yes, to agree with him.
They know. They know Charlie's her son, they know.
He had a cluster of seconds before he'd fall to his death, if that were his fate.
Paxton, her nose flared and steaming with anger, moves closer to the scene. Earning the glares of the few who's back isn't toward her. Isaac notices her first, then Derek, who could barely keep his head up, and finally, Charlie.
Glass cracks under the weight of her shoe, giving her location to everyone else.
Charlie's face washes away any fear, he shares the same tight-lined lips their mother wears. Could it be anger?
"Well," Deucalion turns to the sound. "Who do we have here?"
"Trouble," grunted Ennis.
"That girl from the other day," Kali said at the same time, a smile upon her cracked lips.
Deucalion hummed a melodic tune. "This just got more interesting. Good, I was starting to get bored," he turned back around, long enough to nod in Kali's direction.
In the blink of an eye, Kali drops her hold on Cora and Boyd. They fall to the ground, exhausted from being held up for so long. She makes her way to Paxton, leaving prints of her feet behind.
Her lip curling with disgust, Paxton glances from Kali, to Emily, who hadn't even budged at the thought of yet another child in the face of danger.
Paxton's hand tightens around her hidden weapon. While she remains still under Kali's threatening glare, Scott eases his way to a very distracted Ennis. The only one to witness this movement, is Emily, who keeps watch on her son.
Paxton roars out her anger, vicious like a feral animal. Her hand slips from her sleeve, and out comes the dagger as she runs for Kali.
She doesn't move as slow as she had before, when Charlie had caught her by surprise. Gracefully, her arms create a barrier between her and the target, the tip of the blade aiming for Kali.
No one had expected it, for Paxton to actually slice into the wolf's skin, but she does. The blade slides down Kali's chest, leaving a trail of blood as the woman growls.
Again, a whistle blew. Like at a lacrosse game. The battle begins, and Paxton was playing for her team.
Kali steps back, shocked by the seemingly innocent girl. As she does, Isaac jumps up from the floor, concentrated on Paxton. Emily pulls along Deucalion, moving him out of the way while Isaac breezes past.
Isaac could recognize the war firing behind Paxton's eyes. She couldn't see anything other than anger. He doesn't try to stop her, to tell her to hide or run away. He stands beside her, snarling his pointed teeth toward Kali.
Emily whispers something to Deucalion, causing his ears to perk up. He nods in agreement to whatever she had said. She watches with a small hint of a smile against her lips as Scott moves closer to Ennis.
While Isaac watches Paxton take her anger out on Kali, the dagger slicing carelessly through the air. The blade reflecting the light above with each erratic motion.
Scott's beside Ennis, whose eyes are fixed on Deucalion, waiting for his signal to ruin the lives he holds in his hands.
Charlie doesn't feel the hand on his arm, he couldn't tear his bewildered sight away from his sister, and the mother he had trusted during this moment. She said no one would be hurt, and that he could trust her.
Scott, driven by determination, forcefully pulls Charlie from the captor's grasp, both tumbling onto the unforgiving concrete. A surge of adrenaline
rushing through him, Scott's claws extend for Derek, hoping to save him as well, but as Derek's body falls forward—tipping over the edge of the balcony—Scott's aim redirects itself. The razor-sharp claws tear into the back Ennis' legs instead.
The heavy weight of the man crashes him down onto his knees. Though Charlie had slipped through his hold, Derek had not.
Scott peers from the floor, watch as the two men plummet. He reaches his hand out, hoping for grab Derek's before it's too late.
The building falls silent. No dripping water in the distance, not the crinkling of glass. Not even the sound of concrete crumbling into pieces.
Kali's face contorts with horror as Ennis falls, her gaze shifts away from Paxton and the gleaming blade in her hand. Paxton, bewildered by the woman's reaction, turns to see what captured her attention.
A chilling scream pierces the air, drawing everyone's attention to Cora, then to the ledge her brother fell from.
In the eerie stillness, all eyes fixate on the ledge with a shared sense of horror—all except for Deucalion and Emily, who stood unmoved with the realization that their plan unfolded precisely as intended.
A collective paralysis grips the others, leaving them unable to react. Boyd clings to Cora, who's body tremble with the remnants of her mournful wail.
Paxton, frozen in disbelief, unconsciously drops the dagger, unaware of the unfolding tragedy. She hadn't notice Charlie beside Scott. The belief that her brother and the man who took her in are lost settles over her like a heavy shroud of grief.
"Paxton!"
A ghost shouted her name, echoing with the same tone as Charlie.
She turns to the noise before the depression began, spotting Charlie rising to his feet. He points a shaking finger to the scorned woman charging toward his sister. Kali tackles Paxton down, colliding her head against the cold floor and scattered glass.
Vision blurred, Paxton reaches out for her brother. A flare of a blinding white light bleeding into her sight, she's distracted by an angelic figure emerging from the light. Isaac fiercely defends Paxton from Kali while begging for her to get up but, witnessing the angel dancing into the darkness of their reality, she refuses.
Allison draws her bow back, sending an arrow to whizz through the air, and as it lands between Paxton and Kali, a radiant glimmer of light and sparks envelope around them. The smoke eases the tension, suffocating Kali until her anger simmers.
Isaac drags Paxton up to her feet, her arm around his shoulder, he shifts her weight onto him and walks her to Scott and Charlie across from them.
The smoke clears out, fading and leaving a residing smell of gunpowder. Revealing the scene of what's left behind. The alpha's disappeared as quick as their chaos caused a spiral.
"We need to get out of here," Scott broke the silence, his voice cracking against his unnaturally cold exterior.
"We can't just leave him!" Cora cried.
Scott glances to the ledge of the balcony, guilt guiding him over. He knew he shouldn't, that it's morbid, but he couldn't stop his feet guiding him to the edge. He looked over, to a pool of blood dripping down the escalator that both men crashed onto. Their bodies lie rigid, and unnormally still.
Scott's ears perked, listening in for a shallow heartbeat. But he couldn't hear anything.
"I— I killed him. I killed Derek."
___
i hated ending this chapter so abruptly, but it will make sense for the next one.
anyways let me know what you thought, this was different from other chapters.. it didn't include stiles
i would love to know your thoughts about paxton losing her mind as well..
and charlie? what's wrong with him?
i loved writing for paxton, isaac, allison and lydia. mainly bc i love isaac...
i know the whole fight scene is different, and that's both intentional for things i can't discuss, and for the fact that i wrote this based on a very distant memory of this episode
i hope you're all still enjoying this, many more things are to come!
as always, thank you for reading
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