Theo told her that her friends needed help. That they needed her. 

It had been such a long time since she was the one that they needed. Maybe that's why she agreed to go with him without thinking it through, because she needed to be needed.

Lately, they'd all been split. Not talking, not helping one another. As a coyote, Malia was used to it, being on her own, but being a part of a pack changed that part of her. She got attached to them. It was entirely unplanned and not anything she would have sought if she hadn't felt responsible for helping Stiles after his possession, but that didn't mean she regretted any of it.

After losing Kylie and her mother - her real mother - she knew how important it was to hold onto family. That's why she fought so hard not to let them go but she could only do so much without them holding on, too. She'd tried to talk to them about it but her attempts always fell flat. Usually, Stiles helped her with that; with finding her voice, but she didn't have him anymore, did she?

She'd known about what he'd done to Donovan, piecing together the separate clues just like he would, and she didn't care. But he did. He cared about the blood on both of their hands. He always made it seem like he understood, but she guessed the story changed when he was the one someone might call a monster...

There'd always been cracks in the foundation of who they all were but only recently did they start to split open. Though, it's not as if that was solely their fault. Their cracks could have been repaired if it had not been for Theo Raeken.

Theo Raeken, the boy that pretended to be their friend, the smirking face that got too close, the one with all the charming words that were really just poison under the disguise of a cure.

Malia didn't know all of what he'd done, but from the simple fact that she was currently fighting for her life against a bloodthirsty teenage chimera that he locked her away with instead of helping her friends, she assumed he'd done more damage than she could repair.

He'd said Hayden was dying at the hospital, and she should be there for Jac when it happened. Malia knew she couldn't offer words of condolences, but she could be there, and for Jac that had always been enough. So, she followed him. She believed him. It was so easy for him to trick her. It also didn't help that upon their arrival in Beacon Memorial's parking garage, Malia could pick up on the mercury from Hayden, and Melissa's signature lavender perfume. Even Argent's red SUV which Jac had been holding onto for the past few months was there, with her and Liam's scents all over it.

Theo hadn't been completely hiding the truth from her, but that was the point. The most believable lies were the ones based in truth.

He had led her upstairs and told her the others had been hiding on one of the floors undergoing construction. The one he took her to was grimy and littered with plastic tarps on the walls and floor. If Malia had actually cared enough to use her senses and protect herself, she may have picked up on the fact that though her friends were in the same hospital, they weren't on the same floor. Unluckily for her, she didn't realize that until Theo was shoving her into a room with a reinforced door that he swiftly padlocked behind her.

It didn't take much for her to break the door down. With her already bubbling aggression and the supermoon provoking her, it was a minute at most. The problem was that Theo was gone by the time she escaped, and hadn't left her completely alone.

She wandered around the floor trying to find clues of her friends' whereabouts, still trying to accomplish the task of helping them. She found no trace of them, though. Only empty blood bags that created a makeshift path. She followed it cautiously, soon coming face to face with another one of the Dread Doctors' human experiments.

The space below his eyes had been sunken in, and his cheekbones were deeply accentuated. It gave him the appearance of being a living corpse in the middle of decomposition. He also had lengthy bone spikes protruding out of the surface of his hands, organic weapons at the ready.

He'd been in the middle of his meal of donated blood from one of the still-full bags when he noticed Malia. She couldn't even attempt to see if he was a harmless chimera before he was charging at her, the scent of hunger coming off of him in waves. Malia pieced it together quickly that he was tired of the second-hand consumption of blood and wanted it straight from the source, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

All of her hatred and resentment toward Theo washed over her the moment their bodies collided. She should've tried to stop the boy, tried to talk to him like Scott would, or figured out a clever way to restrain him like Stiles, but she didn't want to. She didn't care to try, and she wasn't sure if that was because of the supermoon or because it was her.

Most people would have been disgusted by the boy's appetite but it had the opposite effect on Malia. The scent of fresh blood that passed through his lips with every pant was sending her into a frenzy. It made her reminisce about her times as a coyote after a fresh kill, and how it satisfied her. She remembers the feeling she used to have after a fresh kill. It was contentment.

She spent a long time chasing that feeling after Scott brought her humanity back to her, and she got close. Being with the pack, with Stiles, it made her feel something. Something good. That good lasted for so long, but that was all over now.

No, a deep and stoic voice declares inside of her. It's the moon. It's Theo. It's not over.

Malia almost felt proud to have such a voice within her, until another one swiftly followed suit. This one wasn't unyielding or brave like its brother, instead, it was weak like a whimper and represented what she'd been scared of all along.

It can't be, the voice added desperately.

It represented all of the brokenness inside of her. It was a damaged and pathetic animal, her inner coyote that she buried a long time ago trying to claw its way to the surface. It only made her lash out further as she tried to prove to herself that meek voice wasn't her own.

The boy met every savage blow Malia sent his way, but she could see him weakening with her anger growing. His stance was buckling, feet slipping on the bloody floor, and his deeply indented cheeks were growing more hollow as his resolve weakened. Malia's throat clenched with desire as she pictured ripping him to shreds once his guard fell completely. It calmed that internal voice of hers to be inches away from the familiarity of her animalistic urges. At least those would never leave her.

Malia throws another punch, and this time, the boy isn't able to dodge it.

The impact sends him into a wall next to them. He rebounds efficiently, going to lunge at her once more with his arms raised wide, trying to puncture her with his bone spikes. It leaves his neck open, and Malia's ready to go for the kill before a sudden BANG sounds and the boy's body falls backward. He shakes as a burst of electricity courses through him, emanating from a modified stun bullet on his chest.

Malia whips around to face the one who aided her, finding a woman clad in leather and a face marred with scars.

The rival chimera rips the bullet from his body and tosses it away before scampering off into a neighboring hall. Malia doesn't bother chasing after him and goes toward Braeden, pretending that she hadn't almost caught her about to tear into the boy's jugular.

"What the hell was that?" Braeden pants, wide eyes aimed in the direction of where the boy had retreated.

Malia knew Braeden had seen her fair share of bizarre in her line of work, but she guessed chimeras hadn't made the list until now. She knows she should probably inform Braeden on all that's happened but she can't be bothered with it. So, instead, she pushes past the woman and resumes what she had come here to do, shaking off what had just happened. Her pride wouldn't let her acknowledge it anyway.

"The least of our problems," is all she mutters while walking away, bitter and cryptic. Braeden sighs behind her and mumbles something along the lines of how that wasn't an actual answer, but doesn't protest in following Malia.

The two of them enter the hospital's stairwell, Malia searching for any signs of her friends. Braeden is close behind her, shoving her shotgun under her leather jacket as much as she can in case anyone stumbles across them. Malia wonders if she should have the same care for her bloodied and disheveled appearance, but figures she doesn't care if anyone stares at her over it anyway. It also doesn't feel like a significant worry when she finally picks up on something peculiar, the smell of mercury on another floor.

She leads Braeden toward it, relying on her senses to do the work for her. The entrance door of that floor has signs that cautioned patrons from entering due to the construction, but neither Braeden nor Malia regards it as they pass through. When they're fully inside, the familiar stench of death hits Malia's nostrils like a truck. She hurriedly gestures for Braeden to keep her shotgun at the ready and the mercenary doesn't question it. Together, they creep toward a room at the end of the floor's main hall where the scent was coming from; the scent of rot and mercury.

Malia peers around the edge of the room's doorway, searching for any potential threats. She may not hear anyone else's heartbeat but that doesn't mean she wanted to let her guard down just yet. However, her defenses can't help but slip when she notices the only person in the room is lying dead on a steel table in the center of it.

"Who the hell is that?" Braeden asks when she spots Hayden's body.

"Hayden," Malia mutters, going over to the chimera. "Jac's best friend."

She reaches out to the girl, feeling the icy flesh of her cheek. A mercury tear runs down it and Malia finds herself wiping it away, trying to find a level of kindness for Hayden in death she wasn't able to give her in life. The last couple of weeks demanded too much from both of them and introductions had been sparse, but Malia understood what Hayden meant to Jac, and that was enough for her to feel something in some way for her, too.

"Okay, we got the best friend, so where the hell is Jac?" Braeden asks hotly, clearly upset over the night that welcomed her back to the town.

Malia pauses, contemplating Braeden's question as she wonders where Jac is for herself. She could smell solid traces of her here in the room so she'd been here not that long ago. Malia didn't think Jac would get in Parrish's way when he came to collect another dead chimera, taking them to wherever the hell the Nemeton was, but she also didn't expect her to completely leave Hayden alone either.

Scanning the room fully for the first time, Malia notices signs of a struggle.

A side tray table that had been holding different medical instruments had been knocked over, and various things were scattered around it messily. One of them happened to be Jac's phone. It had a crack on the screen, maybe from the impact of being dropped. Malia went over and picked it up, turning it on to find the array of miscalls from Braeden filling up the screen. They were also accompanied by texts from Mason begging Jac to come to the high school, and some miscalls from Melissa as well.

The hairs on Malia's body stand in attention as her senses pick up on another clue before she can. Her nose guides itself, twitching in the air and forcing her to lift her head to seek the scent it wants. It leads her gaze to a far wall in the room where a small crater had dented the plaster. In the middle of it, rests smudges of blood from where someone's head was slammed.

Malia doesn't need a Stilinski-level IQ to piece together what's happened, and it isn't long before a homicidal lust returns to her. Theo had hurt Jac here, and then he took her. She just didn't know where.

"He was here," she sneers at the wall.

"Who?" Braeden asks cautiously.

"Theo."

"That's the kid Stiles keeps emailing me about," she replies dismissively. There's a hint of annoyance in her tone, probably since she hadn't believed Stiles in thinking Theo was a threat like the rest of them, but her voice also holds curiosity.

"He played us, Braeden. All of us. And I think a lot of people got hurt because of it," Malia confesses.

The wordless pity in Braeden's eyes is enough for her to look away from the woman. She may be acquainted with Braeden but that's what they were-- acquaintances. They weren't friends. They weren't pack. Malia wasn't going to let her see her as weak, so instead of risking being vulnerable, she stomps out of the room and after the invisible path Jac's blood left behind for her nose to find. It's mixed with a woodsy musk that she recognized as Theo, and that only makes her move quicker.

"Where are you going now?" Braeden calls out but doesn't get the desired response once more.

She chases after Malia into the stairwell again, her shotgun returning to its cramped place under her leather jacket as she follows her down to the parking garage. Theo and Jac's trail weakens there as it's not much of an enclosed space anymore but Malia can still make them out. It gives her a sense of hope because that meant they hadn't been gone for long.

Malia wanders toward Argent's SUV that's still parked in the garage, using it as a way to fully inhale Jac's scent. Braeden watches her curiously but doesn't say anything, not until Malia goes to track where that same scent has gone.

"Hold on." She corners her, keeping her in place. "Look, I don't know what's going on around here, but I'm guessing things are bad again?"

Malia nods stiffly, unable to find the words to express just how true that statement was, while also somehow being a complete understatement. Bad couldn't even begin to describe these last few weeks.

"Then this is going to sound worse, because your plan..." Braeden trails off, allowing Malia to finish the thought herself.

Malia and Braeden didn't have much in common. The only thing they truly did share besides friends, was their hatred for Malia's birth mother. This summer, Braeden had been tracking her down as a favor to Jac after Malia shared who was twisted enough to have a baby with Peter and a desire to find her. Braeden didn't hesitate, having a vendetta of her own against the woman, and they'd been communicating every time Braeden got a new lead ever since.

It wasn't long until those conversations turned bitter for the both of them, and they began plotting to not only find Malia's mother, but put an end to her as well.

"She knows," Malia assumes grimly.

"Yeah, and she's coming," Braeden breathes out. "The Desert Wolf knows you're alive and she's coming back to Beacon Hills."

Malia's silent in her contemplation. Braeden doesn't seem unsettled by it which Malia appreciates. She figures that the mercenary was used to prolonged silences anyway and wasn't uncomfortable by them like most people were.

She hadn't told her friends what she intended to do. She knew they wouldn't approve and couldn't handle them trying to stop her, not for this. Sometimes, killing was not only easier but more effective than trying to convince someone to be a better person, especially someone like the woman who birthed her.

It took her a while to piece together her fractured memories, but after reading Valack's novel, the one meant to draw out what her subconscious repressed, she finally saw everything clearly from the night she killed her mother and sister. It hadn't been her fault, not entirely.

Her shift only surfaced because the Desert Wolf shot their car off the road on the night of a full moon. It had been her who made Malia's mother lose control of the car, and then made Malia herself lose control of her new abilities. She was too young to handle the full moon and the crash. Amid her sudden change, she lashed out against her family, and she'd become an animal in more ways than one.

The Dester Wolf would die for that; for her mother and Kylie.

"Good," Malia grits out, assessing her situation to the fullest.

"Malia-"

"I wanted to kill her and now she's coming to me. Makes it easier." She goes to walk off again but Braeden doesn't let her get far before cutting her off again.

"Malia-"

"It doesn't matter," Malia bites back. "Not right now. We just need to find Jac."

Braeden pauses, sighing heavily as she sees her two options: stand in Malia's way, or help her. It's an easy decision to make.

"Do you have her scent?" she asks.

"Not just hers," Malia replies gruffly, inhaling both Jac and Theo's trail. Braeden understands what she means and doesn't stand in her way when Malia takes off after them this time, instead running with her.

The two of them begin to make their way through the empty streets of Beacon Hills, midnight limiting the amount of people still outside. Braeden does her best to keep up with Malia but since they're on foot her speed varies. She would have been faster on her bike, but thankfully Braeden didn't ask to use it. Malia assumed she was aware that the engine and exhaust would only work to distract her already busy senses.

Jac's scent lessens the further they get, but by then Malia's got a lock on Theo's truck. The vehicle has a particular scented wax its surface is coated in that's stronger than the smells of the people within the vehicle.

Soon, the urban structure of the town fades and they start running on a singular paved road surrounded by trees. The dense foliage actually helps keep certain smells contained rather than being taken away by the late-night winds. Malia slows, her breath visible in the freezing air. Braeden reaches her side eventually, grateful to pause momentarily while Malia studies their current environment.

"What've you got?"

Malia inhales through her mouth deeply. It's not just wax she's picking up on now but emotions. It takes longer to process them than traditional scent traces so she goes so far as to taste what's been left behind.

"Chemo-signals," Malia says, almost breathless. It wasn't from the sprinting they just went through, though, but from the anguish she was consuming. "Jac was angry... and scared."

It wasn't unfamiliar to her. Jac wasn't incapable of fear, but it was rare, especially like this. There were layers to emotions, all of them on a spectrum from tolerable to disgustingly pungent. Jac never reached a level Malia couldn't palate, but right now she felt like she was choking, practically suffocating on Jac's fear.

"Let's keep going," Braeden urges, and Malia doesn't refuse.

It isn't long until Malia picks up the sound of rushing water up ahead on the road. It emanates from beneath the old bridge over Beacon River, its rapids crying out for attention as the wind mutilates the surface of it. Malia is only focused on the noise for a moment before she notices that the wind also carries the scent of Jac's blood; fresh and warm.

Malia's eyes dart across the area, seeking the source, but she finds it hard to focus on one spot in particular for more than a second. Her control is slowly slipping through her fingers and trying to hold on was only making it worse. Her emotions were clouding her mind and the supermoon was doing nothing to ease these already trying times.

Braeden notices her hurried movements and scans the scene along with her, trying to spot anything irregular. It isn't long before she finds something.

"Malia," the mercenary calls out after a beat.

She turns in acknowledgment but pauses when Braeden isn't giving her the same attention. Her dark eyes are instead focused toward the edge of the bridge. Red smears coat the wide metal bars of the guardrailing, and at the base of the divide rests an empty and discarded syringe. It all smells of Jac. Braeden approaches the area with the intent to inspect what might have been left of the syringe's contents, but one short sniff makes Malia lunge forward and grab her arm to stop her.

She recognized that sharp, sickly sweet tang that hung in the air around the tip of the needle instantly, and it wasn't anything good.

"Kanima venom," she informs Braeden warningly.

The woman swiftly retracts her hand. Neither of them risked stepping any closer to the railing, unsure of if the interior of the needle was the only place with trace elements of the paralytic secretion. The only move Braeden does make is to crane her neck forward, peering over the edge of the bridge's railing to observe the river below, its current heavy and passing downhill with ferocity.

"You don't think..." The mercenary is unable to finish her sentence, but Malia knows exactly what she's saying.

Malia does her best to search for Jac's scent leaving the bridge, but it only goes back to where they came from, and it was too weak for it to be her doubling back. Even if Theo forced her into his truck again, she'd be able to get something, but she was coming up empty now. The only scent leaving the bridge was Theo's, and the only place where Jac could be where Malia wouldn't be able to track her by scent was the water.

With a growl on her lips, Malia charges into the distance once more.

Braeden doesn't question it and follows soon after. They head for the edge of the bridge and dip into the treeline of the lush woods that encircle it on one side. They speedily make their way downhill, descending the steep slope that leads to the riverbed.

Malia runs parallel to it, using her other senses to try and pick up on any signs of Jac. It was difficult, as she couldn't even see through the water that the storm had dirtied. The surrounding soil was runny, too. It kept clumping up under Malia's boots to try and slow her down. She pushes away the sensation of burning in her legs due to the rough terrain and remains on the makeshift path of slippery mud ahead.

She listens to the sway of the river's waves as she moves, trying to find a gap in the uniform pattern, but it's hard to spot any real difference with her blood rushing in her ears, too. As they keep going, Malia can't help but ask herself that if Jac is even out here, will they be able to find her in time?

She's already dead. Just like Mom. Just like Kylie, that fragile animal inside of her cries, tempting her to give up.

"No," Malia snarls at herself, her voice warped from stress and her shift that keeps trying to surface. Her feet hit the ground harder as if she's running for her life now when really she's running for Jac's.

She only forces herself to slow when they reach a bend in the river. She forces her body to calm itself and analyzes the area in front of her. She's thankful her mind cooperates when, through the shadows of overhanging foliage and nightfall, she notices something washed up on the murky shore.

Braeden comes to her side, her breath heavy and tired. It suddenly stops when she finds the same figure in the distance as Malia, and it takes the wind out of her.

"God, no," Braeden whispers shakily.

A body lays on the shore before them. She's face down in the mud and smells of copper and freshwater rather than her natural scent. Malia's rage is bottled for a moment as she finally finds the body of Jacqueline Knight.

Braeden's frozen in place beside her. Malia almost remains stagnant as well, until the crisp night air brings gusts of wind toward them, as if pushing her forward; as if asking her to help Jac. Malia hears its silent question, and she answers.

"Jac," Malia calls for her, running toward the body.

She drops to her knees, her hands reaching to flip her over. Her body is cold to touch, just like Hayden's had been, and Malia tries to forget that. Jac's face is bruised, too, yet still pale and covered with various cuts and scrapes. It may have been from whatever altercation she had with Theo, but also from the floating debris bobbing up and down in the river behind them. Though, that wasn't much of a problem for Malia to try and solve. The only concern she had now was that she couldn't hear Jac's heartbeat.

Her hands hovered over Jac's chest, aware of what needed to be done but unsure of how to actually do it. Malia had seen people be revived from drowning on television before but never had to practice the method in reality. She also didn't know if she could control her strength and not accidentally cave Jac's chest in by using too much force.

It was all too much of a risk, and now wasn't a time for gambling.

Malia looks up, finding Braeden still staring at Jac with wide eyes, yet to move from her previous position.

"I - I don't know CPR," she admits, hating how frail her voice sounded as she pleads for aid.

The mercenary doesn't make any moves to help her, though. She just continues to gape at Jac's limp body with glazed-over eyes. Malia knows now isn't the time, but finds herself feeling sorry for Braeden, surprisingly.

Jac always alluded to the fact that she and the mercenary went back a long while, but never gave a specific point of reference. Malia assumed that meant they met during Jac's time with the Argents and kept her questions over that to herself. She may not be the best with social cues, but when it came to Jac and the Argents, even Malia knew to keep her mouth shut.

That doesn't stop her from wondering if Braeden had been there for it all, been there to see the person Jac used to be before Beacon Hills. The killer she used to be.

Malia always caught glimpses of Jac's darker nature and sometimes the others would tell her bits and pieces since they knew her first, but she never saw what Jac was fully capable of. But maybe Braeden had. Maybe Braeden had seen Jac at her worst and then at her best, and along the way found herself caring for the girl in a way that was deeper than just being allies. Maybe Braeden had been there to see Jac grow up, broken and alone, and then now had to watch her now die the same way because they weren't fast enough.

It was tragic, but Malia knew deep down it didn't have to be. 

"Braeden!" she screams pleadingly, begging for the mercenary to snap out of whatever trance she'd fallen into. Braeden's soul attaches itself to her body finally, and in an instant, she understands what's required of her.

The mercenary lowers her favored shotgun and races forward, urging Malia's hands away as she kneels on the other side of Jac's body. Her expression is clinical and void of emotion as she readies herself, shifting Jac's form to a more proper position. Before she places her hands on her chest, she opens Jac's mouth to peer inside of it. Malia has no idea what she's doing but watches intently as Braeden lowers her lips to meet the young hunter's, blowing a few times before pulling away. Her hands go to Jac's chest afterward, consistently administering compressions to the center of it. She continues that pattern, going back and forth for what feels like hours while all Malia can do is watch.

Her attention drifts to Jac's face as she waits. She reaches for it, pushing away the damp strands that block pieces of her eyes. She wishes for them to open, for any sign of life to return, but nothing happens.

"Malia," Braeden says her name so softly it's almost nurturing, but the horror and pain it's laced with do nothing to help her calm down.

"Keep going," she orders her without hesitation.

Malia keeps her eyes on Jac's lifeless face. She won't let herself look away from it. She forces herself to remember this because if she couldn't save Jac, she deserved to relive this moment for the rest of her own life. It would be a reminder to her of what happened when she failed, just like the screams of her mother and sister on the night she ripped them apart.

She didn't let herself forget any of it. Her self-inflicted acts of punishment told her she needed those reminders to stay strong. It didn't matter if they did her more harm than not, or that those reminders were tempting her control here and now.

"Jac?" Malia says her name pleadingly, begging a dead girl to come back to life and save her from her guilt.

When are we going to stop letting them down? 

Her coyote weeps inside of her, mourning all that she had already lost, and was going to continue to lose. Malia digs her hands into the mossy soil under her as that voice repeats itself over and over again. She lets her claws bury themselves there rather than into her palms. It doesn't help as the dirt reminds her of those nights as a coyote when the only home she had was a den in the middle of the woods where no one could find her. She spent years curled up on the ground there losing her humanity because she didn't feel worthy of living.

She couldn't think of any punishment that could fit this, though. How would she tell Scott, Lydia, and Stiles that she couldn't save Jac? How would she tell Liam? They'd all look to her for answers and she wouldn't be able to give them anything but disappointment.

Maybe we should let the Desert Wolf kill us, her inner weaker animal whimpers, and she finds it impossible to disagree.

"Jac," Malia says more forcefully, her fear taking over more than ever. The supermoon was messing with her head and letting all of her self-doubt and hatred eat away at her. She didn't want to face it alone. She wanted her friends. She needed her friends.

Malia can feel the familiar burn of her eyes glowing, and the inside of her mouth gets cut as her fangs grow of their own accord. Her shift can't be buried any longer and there's nothing she can do to hold back. She wants to warn Braeden to get away, worried she won't be able to stop herself from adding the list of scars that already cover the mercenary's body, but she can't.

Her mind isn't completely gone from her, though, not when she finally hears one single internal beat from the hunter before her.

"Jac!" Malia growls, a desperate roar ripping her throat as she pleads to anything and anyone out there for her not to lose another sister.

Malia feels the pleas for her body to shift deafen as Jac begins to shake wildly, her body spasming as she tries to shoot out the water that had been stockpiled in her lungs. She can't move on her own, her body clearly still paralyzed, so Braeden acts fast and pushes her onto her side to allow water and stomach acid to spill out of Jac with ease.

Jac's eyes are wide as she heaves, trying to take back in all the air she lost. She doesn't seem to register anything, but Malia notices recognition in her eyes when she finds her and Braeden kneeling over her. There's a tense rigidness that leaves her soaked body after that as Jac knows she's safe, finally.

Malia reaches for her, hands void of claws, and clings to Jac in a way she never thought she'd do before. Jac falls against her, letting her injured head be propped up in Malia's lap as she lies there, exhausted, on the brink of life, and unable to move. 

"I'm with you," Malia whispers to her repeatedly. "I'm with you."

Those are the same words Jac said to her on the night they fought Tracy for the first time. For anyone else those words may have seemed like a simple declaration of acceptance, but for them, two people had become killers and were still trying to fight against those harsher instincts every day of their lives, it meant more. It meant that whatever happened, there wasn't a single thing either of them could do that would change how the other viewed them.

Jac shakes with silent sobs but doesn't tell Malia to move away. Malia wasn't sure if she could even talk after drowning but didn't ask. Now wasn't a time for words. She just let Jac rest, watching as it only took a few seconds for the girl to slip into unconsciousness. She remains still, letting Jac rest and absorb her body heat. Only Braeden moves, going back to grab her shotgun she'd abandoned a few feet away. Once she has it, she comes to sit beside them, one hand on the trigger, and the other placed carefully on Jac's shoulder. Her eyes remain on the trees, and Malia knows no more harm will come to Jac under her watch.

"Thank you," she says to the mercenary. Braeden glances at her and offers a subtle nod before returning to her guard.

Malia understands now why Jac had always urged her and the pack to trust the mercenary, and finds any lasting reservations she had toward her gone in an instant. Braeden had earned her loyalty tonight, and she doubted there would ever come a time when it would falter.

They sit like that for a long time, next to the river together. 

This night had been more than enough and the isolation of the woods kept them safe from any more trouble. As time passes, Malia even feels the pull of the supermoon lessen as midnight comes to a close. It's not entirely gone yet, but her senses are easier to control and there's no traitorous voice inside of her anymore. It almost becomes peaceful until Malia hears a familiar sound in the distance.

Miles away from where they were now, is the howl of an Alpha. It's desperate and pleading. He calls out for his pack, calls them home as he had done dozens of times before. Malia feels the response in her throat, the desire to answer him, but she remains silent, clinging to Jac.

The Alpha howls, but this time, no one answers.

~

||| A/N |||

hope you all liked this, but if you miss Jac just know she'll be back for the next chapter for our official marker to season 5B!

also, someone recommended DEATH by Melanie Martinez to me a while back because they felt the song fit Jac's story and i honestly love it so much! check it out if you haven't heard it already! (thanks, katg240069!)

anyway, i miss you all, and thanks to those who are still reading

DONT BE MAD AT ME FOR NOT POSTING IN FOREVER ILL CRY

<3