When I pull into the lot of the warehouse, Braeden and Kira make their presence known near the back entrance to the building. Kira holds her katana, while Braeden has her shotgun, both of them ready to face whoever chose to come for us here.

I park my motorcycle beside Braeden's Triumph and leave my helmet on the seat before climbing up the few steps in front of me to greet the kitsune and mercenary.

"Everything okay inside?" I ask, being sure to manage my expectations.

"Argent almost shot us when we got here, and morale is pretty low since we're all being hunted, but other than that, yeah, everything's okay," Kira replies. 

Her words are optimistic while her eyes hold nothing but anxiety. It makes her seem slightly insane. I pat her shoulder in response, turning my gaze to Braeden as she eyes the tactical bag strapped across my chest. 

"What've you got?" she asks. 

I pull the bag forward, unzipping it enough for her and Kira to see the rifle inside. 

"I've got eight shots," I say. 

Braeden gives me an unimpressed look. 

"That's not enough," she says bluntly. 

"I've got my Glock and daggers, too, but they're only for emergencies," I sigh. "Just 'cause they're trying to kill us doesn't mean we have to kill them."

"Speak for yourself," Braeden mutters, turning away from us to walk into the warehouse. I'm unbothered by her reaction, already used to her attitude. She was a mercenary. Moral ambiguity was her bread and butter.

Kira and I follow behind her. We walk through the maze of hanging plastic tarps, cubicles, and random office furniture until we reach the main area of the building. Scott stands with Chris and Derek, the three of them talking in hushed tones. Satomi's pack is nearby, but not close enough to be a part of the conversation. They're in their own little world, but do glance up when they notice that we've entered the building.

I get the usual distrusting scowls sent my way but ignore them, only paying attention to the nods of greeting that Brett and Satomi give me. Lori even waves at me, and I can't help but crack a smile at the innocent gesture before returning it.

My eyes find their way to Scott's as I near his position. It's clear he wants to talk, and he's not alone in that, but we're both aware this isn't the time. 

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Kira asks. 

"Like, do we have an actual idea of what we're doing or are we just waiting for them to come and kill us?" She looks between all of us desperately, waiting for anyone to answer. 

"We're going to do a holding attack," Chris replies. 

Scott, Kira, and Derek all eye him confusedly, unsure of what his words mean. 

"It's a military tactic," I speak up to clarify. 

"Typically, soldiers use it to hold off the enemy until reinforcements can get in or while a bigger attack is occurring somewhere else," I continue. 

"Stiles and Lydia are the bigger attacks," Scott mutters in realization. 

I nod to confirm his words. 

"They're the smartest people I know, if anyone can end this, it's them. We just have to give them the time," I say. 

After their encounter with Brunski, Lydia and Stiles were only set back momentarily. They were back at it now, putting their minds together to try and solve this like they had done countless times before. Betting on them was one of the easiest decisions any of us could make.

"While also keeping them alive," Derek says, glancing toward Satomi's pack. 

"They'll be okay," Scott counters, though, even he sounds hesitant. 

Satomi could more than handle her own, that was for sure, but the rest of her pack had only gotten this far on pure survival instincts. The assassins we were up against had been training to kill creatures like them for years.

"They've got claws and fangs, but they're not fighters," Derek argues. 

"That's why I called you," Scott says. 

Derek smiles softly, amused but still focused on the reality of our situation. 

"Well, try to remember, I don't have claws and fangs anymore either."

Braeden takes a step forward, her shotgun in hand.

"That's why he called me," she adds cockily, her ego completely earned. 

My anxiety over the assassins definitely lessened with her here, and admittedly Chris, too. Thoughts of him make my gaze turn his way, finding him already watching me. He doesn't break contact when our eyes connect, so I'm the one who does it. There's too much emotion in his stare for me to get a read on, and I don't want to exert myself trying to figure him out.

"Am I the only one still hoping this is all just a false alarm? I mean, it's possible we could wait here all night and nothing happens. Right?" Kira muses hopefully. 

No one responds, Kira's words nothing more than a pipe dream. Even Kira knows it, but she's willing to pretend so as to not feel completely lost. 

"Scott, you heard anything from Stiles or Lydia yet?" Braeden asks, ignoring Kira's frown. 

"Lydia's still talking to Meredith, and Stiles and Malia are headed to the lake house. They're trying to stop it," he replies. 

Braeden seems like she wants to say something further, but another voice speaks up from across the room before she can. 

"What if there is no stopping it?" Brett asks, cutting in. 

We all turn, finding him watching us. His pack stares at the situation from behind him, all of them curious. They may not have been active participants in our conversation, but it was clear that didn't stop them from listening. 

"What if it doesn't end until we're all dead?" he adds. 

Brett stands beside me, waiting for an answer. There's nothing but silence as everyone contemplates his questions. He didn't direct it at us in anger, but it posed a genuine possibility of what could happen. 

"Then let's send a message," Derek begins, taking me by surprise. I had expected Scott to say something, but instead, it's he who steps up. 

"Let's make something perfectly clear to anyone with a copy of that list. It doesn't matter if they're professional assassins, hunters, or an amateur who just picked up a gun." He gestures to himself with his own weapon, not at all trying to hide the fact that his experience could be his undoing.

"Anyone who thinks they can hunt and kill us for money is gonna be put on another list. Our list. They get to be a name on our Dead Pool," Derek finishes proudly. 

The air shifts around us shifts. 

His words solidified the fact that no matter what happened tonight, we weren't going down without a fight. Even Derek, who was as human as I was now, was still ready to die for our cause. Scott's cause.

I lean toward Brett, lowering my voice. 

"That the speech you wanted?" I joke, recalling his words from the clinic.

"Work for me," he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. 

He removes himself from us, rejoining his pack. All of them still seem apprehensive, but there's less fear within them after Derek's words. It makes me smile that even though Derek wasn't an Alpha, he'd still found his place as a leader.

Scott talks to Kira, while Braeden and Chris converse, too, everyone killing time. Derek is standing by himself, putting spare magazines into the pockets of his jacket.

"You've found your calling, Hale," I say as I come to stand at his side. 

He wears a flattered grin, but it doesn't last long.

"When this is all over, I want to talk to you about something," he insists. 

I raise my eyebrows in question. 

"You know that implies we both survive tonight, right?" I ask, only semi-kidding.

"I know," he laughs.

I watch him curiously, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to talk to me about but can't, so I figure it best to table the topic for now. We had more pressing matters at hand than a conversation.

"We'll talk," I agree, and Derek seems satisfied with my response.

Chris moves away from Braeden and approaches me. I look at him, but it feels more like looking in his direction considering I don't actually focus on him.

"Help me set up the motion detectors outside?" he requests, and I give him a curt nod, knowing the only other person in here he could ask for help was Braeden. Everyone else was on the Dead Pool and needed to stay indoors. I figured it would be best to go with Chris rather than stay in here with Satomi's pack glaring at me.

The two of us walk outside after Chris grabs his duffle bag full of equipment. I watch our surroundings while he connects the motion detectors to the perimeter of the warehouse.

The sky is a pale orange as night creeps in, and I can feel in the pit of my stomach that nothing good will follow its darkness.

Chris and I work in silence at first, but eventually, the old bastard can't help himself.

"I'm glad you're okay," he mutters as we reach the back of the warehouse.

He's focused on pasting the detector to the wall while I still stand guard, neither of us actually looking at the other. It's like he was too cowardly to actually say it to my face.

I scoff under my breath and shake my head, unable to prevent my frustration from growing.

"Don't act like you care about me," I snap spitefully.

If he had ever cared about me, he would've told me about France. I didn't care that he left, I knew he needed to go. Beacon Hills had too many reminders of Allison and Victoria, but I could never understand why he didn't tell me he was leaving.

All I would've asked of him was to tell me. I wouldn't have begged him to stay. I just wanted him to show that he cared about me as much as I cared for him, but he didn't.

"I've always cared about you," he breathes out exactly what I want to hear, but it feels like a lie.

I turn and take a step forward, forcing him to look at me. I can't exactly see him clearly, my vision being involuntarily blurred as tears form in my eyes. I don't shrink back or try to hide them for Chris' sake though. I want him to see how he hurt me.

"Then why didn't you ask me to go with you?" I ask him, finally giving in to that part of myself that always wondered what his answer would be.

It's like I'm reliving the pain of that moment as the words leave me.

I can remember what it felt like to walk into our apartment, expecting to see Chris there grieving over Allison, but instead finding nothing but a shell of a home. I had lost two families in one lifetime and had to swallow that feeling so I wouldn't do something reckless. It was worse than death.

"Jac-" he says my name far too sympathy for me to let him finish.

"Do you have any idea what it felt like for me to walk into that apartment and find nothing there? Any trace that you or her ever existed was gone. You didn't call or even leave a damn note. If that's you caring for me, I don't want it."

Chris flinches because my words come out as cruel, verbally striking him across the face. There's regret in his eyes but it doesn't make any of this better. It can't make it better because when Chris left... it felt like losing a father all over again.

I'm the one that has to look away now. I shake my head and use the back of my hand to wipe the dampness pouring down my cheeks away.

"I didn't ask because I knew you'd never leave them," Chris whispers, making me look back at him. He didn't need to say any names, both of us well aware he was referencing the pack.

"So I left without a word to make it easier for the both of us to let go." 

I don't allow myself to feel sorry for him or show him any comfort as his face reveals nothing but pain. His words implied that in some twisted way what he did was for my benefit, and I despised that.

"Hate to break it to you, Argent. It wasn't easy," I sneer before turning away, leaving him as he had once left me.

---

Everyone did their best to make small talk to pass the time as night fell. I kept to myself, sitting on a discarded office desk in a random corner of the warehouse, doing my best to ignore Chris. Though, despite my goal of avoidance, my conversation with him was all that was on my mind.

After my anger subsided over his confession, I found some truth in what he said. 

Even before Allison died, I had grown close with Scott and the others. I simply hadn't admitted to myself up until recent drastic events. It made me wonder if Chris had a point. If he had asked me to go with him, would I have actually done it? Would I have abandoned my friends, and broken my vow to Allison to keep them safe?

"What's that?" a small voice asks from behind me, pulling me from my thoughts.

I search for the speaker, finding Lori. She stands behind a curtain of plastic, studying me. Her eyes slip from mine to focus on the rifle in my hands. She steps out from the tarp and comes closer, still a bit of space between us.

"Tranquilizer rifle," I answer. 

I keep my face neutral and my tone even, not wanting to intimidate her. I could only imagine how terrified she was with everything going on and knew the last thing she needed was to be freaked out by someone who was supposed to be protecting her.

"Why don't you use a real gun?" Lori tilts her head, and I chuckle. 

"This is a real gun."

She mirrors my smile, not at all offended by my laughter.

"I mean with bullets."

"I have one of those, too," I tell her, hoping she'd find comfort in my words and not fear.

Lori puts her back to me, and I expect her to walk away, but she only did that so she could hoist herself up onto the desk, too. She slides into place on the surface of the table and crosses her legs as I have, and then even goes so far as to mimic my halfway-hunched posture. I smile down at my mirror, amused. 

"You okay?" I ask.

"No," she replies.

By her tone, I can tell that she doesn't want to be lied to. She's been through enough and pretty lies or fake stories of happy endings won't help her. All she wants is honesty and safety, two things I was more than willing to provide her with.

"Me either," I confess.

I was tired. I've been fighting since the day I lost my family, and when I was younger I didn't care that I didn't see an end in sight. I found solace in the war I fought. Now, all I wanted to do was rest.

"We can handle it, though. We just have to hold on a little longer," I add, speaking to myself and Lori. The young wolf stares off into space as she thinks my words over in her head.

"Gaman," she notes after a while, then smiles up at me. "It means we can endure as long as we're patient."

I wasn't surprised Lori was familiar with that concept. Satomi clearly built her pack around Buddhist teachings while incorporating her Japanese history. It was impressive how her pack was all able to take to it so well, especially someone of Lori's age.

"I know what it means, chīsano hato."

Little dove.

Lori's cheeks fill with a rosy pink, making me laugh. She smiles widely in return, not doing much to hide the slight blush from me. 

"I wish all hunters were like you," she mutters. I try not to think of how depressing the reality of her words truly was.

"There's more of us out there than you think," I say, my thoughts with Allison. This is the vision of her code: hunters and the supernatural side by side under one purpose. Part of me couldn't help but hope one day more hunters would take on her oath as I had.

Lori and I sit together in peaceful silence as time moves on, still feeling endless. That silence is only broken when I catch a hint of Chris' voice from somewhere nearby. 

"Three things cannot long be hidden... the sun, the moon, the truth. What exactly does that mean?" he asks someone.

"The truth cannot stay hidden," Satomi replies in an obvious tone.

"I know what the saying means," Chris dismisses her. "What does it mean for you?" he presses.

Satomi doesn't answer right away, thinking before speaking. It's a quality I'm sure took her almost a century to perfect.

"The truth for me is that we, my kind, are violent creatures who eventually will not be able to control their violent impulses. The mantra helps us subdue our nature."

"But you're still violent creatures," Chris states. 

Satomi's light laughter follows his words, and her reply to him is more than coy.

"Aren't we all?" she retorts, admitting to the violence of her own kind, and ours. 

Satomi's question makes my attention shift to Scott, finding him across the room with Kira. 

He was someone who saw the world as black and white; good and evil. There was a fine line between two opposing forces, and he was impervious to walking on it. There had been times when he found himself on the other side, but it was always with the intention of returning. He never had to make that one life-altering decision that would betray the meaning of him being a True Alpha.

I can't help but wonder if Satomi's words applied to him. Could there come a day when he had just as much blood on his hands as me? Would he finally know what it felt like to cross that line with no intention of turning back? These past two days had made me begin to question if I truly did know everything about Scott. I always considered him to be an open book, someone incapable of lying and causing pain, but I didn't know anymore.

My affection and trust for him were the same, and it always would be, yet the image of him possibly becoming something even more grotesque than a Demon Wolf started to plague my mind.

Though, I can't linger on the thought for too long. Not as the motion detectors around the perimeter all start to go off at once.