The rain was heavy around me, the sound of the rushing water almost deafening. Though, if I listened closely enough, I could make out the sounds of Miles' pained moans. 

He lay at my feet, unmoving. His blood mixed with the puddles of rain that gathered in the potholes of the campus parking lot, but I didn't care. I stood above him patiently, unbothered by him and the overhead storm, and waited for the Calaveras to make their grand entrance. It hadn't been long since Braeden reached out to them, so they were due to show up any minute now. 

We had to wait for the grounds of the high school to be clear, not wanting to risk any crossfire. There was no telling how the Calaveras would react to one of their men bound, bloodied, and in my possession. 

Stilinski sent a few deputies to gather the assassins we dealt with, and help evacuate everyone. He wasn't entirely aware of what occurred and why Miles wasn't being taken in, but I figured the less he knew, the better. Braeden's old position as a U.S. Marshal also helped to make things easy to sell, as none of the deputies flinched when she flashed her badge.

They even gave her one of their squad cars when she requested it, assuming it was for her to transfer Miles somewhere. In all actuality, Derek had been her ride here, but because he took his Cruiser to follow Scott home as he rode his dirt bike, she was basically stranded. The car helped to convince the deputies Miles would be taken care of, and it also allowed Braeden to offer Liam and Malia rides home. 

I glance over my shoulder, the aforementioned car parked behind me. 

Braeden had refused to leave until the Calaveras arrived, which meant Malia and Liam were still here, too. There was space inside of the car for me to wait with them, but I preferred the storm and Miles' vocal agony over Liam's remorseful stares. 

The passenger side door opens, and Malia steps out into the storm with me. 

She doesn't seem bothered by the rain, and makes her way to my side with a neutral expression. She's quiet for a while, and all I'm able to hear is Miles' ragged breaths and the splashing of water. 

"I can stay with you," she offers eventually, making me look at her. 

Malia was never the type to display emotions. Her affection almost always came through her actions. I understood this was her way of telling me she forgave me for our lies. I was grateful for that, but as touching as her offer was, it wasn't one I could accept.

"This is something I have to do alone," I reply honestly.

Malia meets my eyes, nodding softly. 

"Braeden will take you home," I say dismissively. "You can trust her."

Malia nods again, though, this one is a bit hesitant. She didn't know Braeden as she knew us, but I wanted her to see that she could find an ally within the mercenary. The day may come when she would have to rely on her, and I didn't want Malia to feel distrustful. Braeden had always had my back, and I knew she would have that of my friends, too. 

I wanted to say more, but Malia's gaze suddenly breaks from mine. She tilts her head, studying something beyond us. 

"They're coming," she says warningly. "I can hear their trucks around the block."

I gesture towards the squad car and Malia doesn't argue as she returns to it. I follow her, leaving Miles by himself, as it's not like he's going anywhere anyway.

Braeden rolls down the window on the driver's side on my approach, allowing some water to trickle inside. Liam's in the back behind the metal partition, and his eyes try to seek mine through the gaps. I refrain from looking at him and focus solely on Braeden. She reaches into her waistband and pulls out a concealed micro pistol, offering it to me. It's not anyone's first choice for a gun in our line of work, but still useful in desperate situations.

"Figured you wouldn't want the shotgun," she jokes half-heartedly.

"Keep it," I dismiss her, not making any moves to pick up the extended weapon.

Braeden's taken aback by my refusal but doesn't say anything. Malia's also obviously resistant but remains silent, too. It's Liam who's verbal about not favoring me meeting with the Calaveras empty-handed. 

"Jac, take the gun," he insists. 

My eyes finally find his, and I feel an ache in my chest as my gaze involuntarily falls to his lips. I force myself to look away, glaring over at Miles instead. 

"This isn't something I can shoot my way out of," I admit quietly. 

Several incoming engines roar over the sound of the storm, a sign that our time was narrowing. 

I step away from the car, heading back to Miles. 

"Get them out of here," I order Braeden without sparing another glance.

A second later I hear the car pulling away, heading out into the night. It's only a beat after that do multiple headlights break through the curtains of rain and they highlight the thick droplets that fall around me. Various cars come to a sudden halt in the parking lot as Miles and I are illuminated in the center of it. Those inside the vehicles are surely not happy with what they've stumbled upon.

I reach for Miles' collar and yank him onto his knees, allowing the Calaveras to see his swollen face properly. 

"Please," he wheezes through his shattered ribs.

Car doors slam and feet splash in the puddles of rain that's collected on the pavement below us. With what's about to happen, I could imagine Miles would prefer for me to throw him to the wolves rather than the Calaveras. 

"I told you not to touch him," I grit out mercilessly. 

Miles all but whimpers as a familiar silhouette eclipses the headlights, Araya coming into view. As far as I can see, she has about a dozen men with her who all flank her sides. A range of revolvers, machine guns, and rifles are promptly aimed at me.

"What is this?" Araya asks irately, her crazed eyes darting between Miles and I. 

Braeden hadn't told Araya what had transpired tonight, both of us unsure of how she would react to such news. The mercenary simply asked for the Calaveras to come to the high school, aware they would assume she had information on Kate, as she was still on their payroll to find the jaguar. 

I drag Miles forward, shoving him toward Araya's feet. 

"This is a debt repaid," I answer cryptically. 

The bald man who had been at the motel the other day rushes forward to check on his battered companion.

"What the hell did you do to him?" he asks gruffly. 

I ignore his hateful leering and keep my attention on Araya. 

"He tried to claim three hits on the Dead Pool tonight, and maybe even played part in a fourth," I explain. 

Shouts of objection carry around the area. The hunters in my company don't want to believe such a thing was possible from their fellow man. They all take a communal step closer to me with their fingers nearing their triggers, their threat more than obvious. 

"You're the only traitor here, Argent," the man from the motel spats as he rises from Miles. 

I take my eyes off Araya for a split second to glare at him. 

"I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to her," I say dismissively. 

He rolls his eyes but remains silent as he searches for Araya's reaction. I do the same. 

She hasn't responded to my claims yet, but the seemingly rageful expression she wore upon her arrival had faded. Her poker face was all I could see now, as she didn't want to show her hand too early. She wanted to discern whether what I was telling her was the truth. For my sake, I hope she did.

"We've had our differences, but you know this isn't something I'd lie about," I continue. 

Araya's calculating stare falls on Miles. He's struggling to remain on his knees with his injuries,  as his hands are cuffed behind his back and can't provide him with support. He stills as Araya moves closer to him, bending slightly at the waist to meet his eye-line. 

The older woman tilts her head, taking in his drenched and beaten appearance.

"Miles, is this true?" she questions him, her tone eerily even. 

"Of course not," he instantly retorts, sputtering at the accusation. "She's lying to you." 

Araya's narrowed eyes pass him and land on me briefly. I stiffen as she studies me, but refuse to look away. I wouldn't shrink under her scrutiny. I wouldn't allow her to consider me a coward like Miles. 

Soon, she looks back down at Miles. 

"Then why are you wearing a deputy's uniform?" she asks slowly. 

A stillness falls over the Calavera hunters. 

They all lower their guns, checking to see if Araya's words were true, and their faces soon fall. Upon arrival, they had been too caught up in the heat of the moment to notice Miles' unusual uniform, but Araya's level head allowed her to spot it easily. Now, they all saw it, too. 

Despite their attitude toward me, I empathize with the agony the hunters in my company felt. I had been where they are not too long ago. I had thought of my past fellow hunters as my brothers, too. The day they turned against me and allowed Gerard's manipulation to run its course brought me an indescribable sense of betrayal. 

"Araya, she's lying, she's trying to trick you, all of you. You have to believe me," Miles pleads desperately. 

"Have to?" Araya echoes harshly. 

Miles freezes, her tone enough to paralyze him. Araya leans closer to him, lowering her raspy and venomous voice with disgust clear on her face. 

"Those are the words of a guilty man," she sneers. 

Miles lets out a cowardly whimper as Araya waves her hand in the air. No words are needed for her men to understand the order. Two of them come out and grab Miles by his shoulders. He struggles against them as they lift him into the air, his body flailing from side to side.

"Araya, please! Plea-"

His shouts are cut short as a hunter rushes forward, hitting his temple with the butt of their rifle. Miles falls limp as he slips under. The hunters toss his body into the back of one of the trucks after, collecting him like freshly shot game. I don't care to linger on that. It's not my business what they do with him from here.

"We'll take care of it," Araya tells me dismissively. 

She turns, moving to walk away. I reach out and grip her forearm to keep her in place as I wasn't done with her just yet. My abrupt actions return the bullseye to my chest, and all of the firearms in the immediate area trained on me once again. 

The man from the motel lifts his revolver to my head.

"Back off," he hisses. 

I oblige and drop Araya's arm, but also send a scowl his way. 

"Remember what happened last time you pointed a gun at me?" I say warningly. He smirks at the challenge and keeps his revolver up, his trigger finger twitching. It's only when Araya speaks does he stand down. 

"Cyrus," she says his name in a commanding tone.

He clenches his jaw with defiance but drops his revolver eventually. Araya waves him off, as well as the other men, no longer putting me in the direct line of fire. 

"You have my attention," Araya says, sounding patient, yet also reserved. 

I give her a grateful nod in exchange, glad I finally had a chance to properly explain myself. 

"When I betrayed Gerard, he sent men after me. He told them to kill me. Yes, they were hunters, but they broke the code with Gerard. I never did. It was only ever self-defense on my end." 

Araya listens, thinking over my words. She had accused me of being a traitor, as did her men, but only because they didn't know the full story. That wasn't their fault, though. They weren't there to experience all of it with me, and it's not like I broadcasted that time in my life either. I'd forced myself to shut those memories out. It felt like torture to remember being hunted by those I had once considered friends and even family, and think about a man I once admired showing his true colors. 

"I understand what Gerard took from you, because he took it from me, too," I add softly. 

Hunters often sought out Gerard's advice and teachings. The Argents were the first official hunting family, so people respected their lineage. He was meant to be the best of us, but after he fell, everything he stood for shattered; the hunting world shattered. 

"But I'm not an Argent, I'm a Knight, and what he did wasn't my fault," I declare myself proudly, no longer willing to live in the shadow of someone else's family, or their faults. 

Allison was the closest thing I would ever have to a sister, but that didn't mean her name was mine or her legacy either. I would fight for her cause, but because I believed in it and her, not because I wanted to be who she was. I had a family of my own, and the privilege of carrying their name was something I'd taken for granted for too long.

I had no idea how Araya would respond, and wait patiently for her to say something- anything. The last thing I expected from her was to let out a hearty chuckle. 

"We often underestimate the value of a name," she says coyly. I eye her suspiciously, her casual demeanor mildly unsettling. 

"Do you know who you were named after, Jacqueline?" she continues.

I pause, weary of where she was trying to lead me. 

"My grandmother," I reply cautiously. 

Araya nods in confirmation as if she already knew, a subtle grin growing on her thin lips. 

"It was a family name," she says knowingly. 

"Yeah," I agree, staring at her oddly. 

My name had been my grandmother's on my father's side, and her mother before her. It had been my mother's decision to name me after her, as a way to pay respect. My mother didn't have much family of her own that she loved, always telling me they were too bitter and cruel to care for. She used to say my father's mother was the only mother she ever knew, and the only one she ever wanted. 

"You remind me so much of her," Araya says quietly, her eyes growing distant. 

It's the same look and the same words she said to me that day in Mexico. Then, I thought she was comparing me to Kate, but now, I realized how wrong I was. 

"We were allies once, a long time ago," Araya confesses nostalgically. "It was before either of us had to carry the weight of our families and the responsibilities that came with our names."

I stare at her, stunned. This wasn't something I had known, as there was no one left in my family to tell me. I'd heard stories about Araya before, but my family members used to speak about her like she was a mythical legend, not a dear friend. 

"You never said anything," I say confusedly. 

Araya nods, her expression sobering. 

"Because I knew Gerard back then, too," she responds spitefully. "He has never been a man to be trusted, and neither are the people he himself trusts."

I nod along, slowly understanding. 

"You thought I was still with him," I mutter in realization. 

Araya may have known my family, but she didn't know me. We met each other after my allegiance to the Argents. At that point in time, I had been doing their bidding for years, and the trail of blood that followed me didn't give the best impression. Araya was a fellow hunter, but that didn't mean she trusted me.

She probably wanted to mention my grandmother, but feared that I had grown to be just as maniacal as Kate and Gerard. They would have let the entire world burn if it meant they could rule over the ashes, and I openly defended that belief. That's why she didn't trust my refusal to hunt down Kate, or my newfound loyalty to Scott. She probably considered it all a manipulation tactic, something most Argents were experts in before they even hit puberty.

Miles was right. Araya had a soft spot for me, but only because she hadn't been hunting me, not really. She had been testing me. She wanted to see how much I could bend before I broke. That's why she threatened Scott and the others, tempted me with Kate, and threw my family's legacy in my face. All of it was to know whether or not I was worthy of the burden that came with carrying the name of her fallen comrade.

"I owe you an apology," Araya starts, shame clouding her aged features. "Not only for these past weeks, but for what happened many years ago."

"When I heard what the Demon Wolf had done, I sent men to your family's compound hoping to find survivors, but it was too late."

"By then, the Argents had already claimed you as theirs," she adds somberly. 

The phrasing of her words stings, as it means she's aware Kate and Gerard viewed me as property rather than a person. I was just another weapon to them that was collected the day the Argents came to my family's compound.

"What happened wasn't your fault," I tell Araya.

I see a piece of myself within her. We had both tried to keep promises to the dead, and it only lead to their ghosts choking us with grief and rage. None of it brought them back, and none of it changed what we lost. 

"We can't keep letting our guilt eat away at us, because if we do, we become something less than human. Kate lost her humanity and look where that got her," I continue, cringing at the mention of the werejaguar. 

Araya notices my revulsion. 

"I know what she took from you, mija," she says gently. "Do you still believe it isn't your place to take the same from her?" 

"I don't know," I reply honestly. 

Something not everyone would understand was that there were good moments I shared with Kate. They were few compared to the bad, but they still meant something to me. 

I remember when she taught me how to ride a motorcycle. I remember the days after a long hunt when it seemed like she only ever wanted to talk to me. I remember her laughing at my terrible jokes, and no one else's. I remember how we used to fight side by side, not a word necessary between the two of us because we were both an extension of each other, and existed as one.

But I also remembered the first time her touch didn't hold kindness, and the feeling of betrayal that came with it. I remember how she created every single scar on my body that was made by her hand. I remember how she would beat and manipulate me, but made me believe it was devotion and care. And most of all, I remember her leaving me to die. 

Kate never had a purpose outside of her own desires. She couldn't understand what it truly meant to love something and be willing to die for something. She could never understand the true meaning of sacrifice, and I pitied her for it.

"All I know is that code, your code, I can't fight for it anymore. It almost ruined me," I admit to Araya. "But I still respect it and you. I just hope in some way, you can respect me, too." 

In the same way I valued Allison's code, Araya valued the old one. We had different philosophies, but our causes were still the same at their root, at least I hoped they were. We wanted to protect those who didn't understand the reality of this world. It was what our ancestors had built both of our families on.

I hold my hand out to Araya, a gesture of faith, and wait.

"You've always had my respect," Araya confesses. Her hand reaches for mine in the middle of the storm, clasping it tightly. "Now, you have my trust." 

I feel a flattered smile grace my lips at her words. Araya mirrors it as she pulls away, turning to her men. She waves her hand to signal their retreat, and none of them flinch to follow the command. Araya returns to her car, and the rest of them follow suit, their guns no longer trained on me like I'm an enemy.

However, Cyrus, the man from the motel, doesn't move. 

His eyes linger on me, and I can see his internal debate on whether or not he's ready to trust me like Araya is. I give him a tentative nod, testing the waters. It takes him a moment, but eventually, he returns the nod and walks off to join his family.

The Calaveras pull out of the parking lot, their taillights disappearing into the night.

I close my eyes as I tilt my head back, allowing the full force of the storm to wash over me. I can feel the sensation of freedom lingering in my chest. It's pleasant at first, but the more I focus on it the more hollow it becomes. It's hollow because something is missing. 

Someone is missing.

This feeling of freedom was nothing compared to what I felt with Liam. Even before I had faced the burden of my past, he had accepted me and offered to share the weight of what I had done. He had witnessed the darkest parts of me but never faltered. He showed me that there was a difference between surviving and living; a true balance between chaos and peace.

I can't help but relieve the feeling of his lips passing over my skin, wondering what it would feel like for it to be real. To care for someone in such a way wasn't something I ever thought I was capable of. At least, not until I met him.

He made me question everything and made me wonder how I had gone for so long purely existing through necessity, and not bothering to allow myself to want things. Scott's words from before try to seep into my mind, but I allow myself to be selfish and push them away. 

I realize now that I would've done anything for Liam. 

I would fight anyone who dared to hurt him, and I would even conquer my worst enemy in his name: myself. I wanted to be done forcing myself not to want things; not to want him. I debate finding him to tell him as much, but my body stiffens when from the corner of my eye, I see a shadowy figure charging right for me.

~

||| A/N |||

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