TW - violence & blood (minor heads up for my sensitive friends <3)

I push people out of my way as I race back to the table, trying to find any sign of where Scott and the others had gone. Fear begins to creep up on me at their absence, and I do my best to try and shove it down before it becomes uncontrollable.

"Jac!"

I turn at the sound of Mason's voice, seeing him struggling to make his way through the crowd of oblivious people. The sheer panic in his eyes and the lack of anyone at his side let me know that he doesn't know where the others are either.

I meet him halfway, my eyes still urgently searching the area as we speak.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Security took Malia and Liam. I tried to stop them but they pushed me down," Mason explains with an edge of guilt in his voice. I don't have time to comfort him, my mind focusing on the lack of mention of a certain Alpha.

"Where's Scott?"

"He said something about shutting off the music and walked off. I haven't seen him. I think he's drunk, too," Mason replies shakily.

I look toward the DJ playing across the courtyard. He didn't stand out much, another face in the crowd, but the smirk he wore as he cranked up the volume of the music told me there was something sinister at play here.

"Frequency," I mutter as the realization hits me.

Dogs and werewolves wouldn't seem like overly similar creatures at first glance, but both have common characteristics, especially when it comes to weaknesses. A dog whistle could affect a True Alpha in the same exact way it could affect a chihuahua. Of course, werewolves have a stronger tolerance to higher frequencies than a whimpering mutt, which is why an entire sound system would be necessary to bring them down.

I focus on Mason again, the shorter boy watching me confusedly. 

"Mason, you need to shut the music off, alright? I know none of this makes sense, but you just have to do it. Some very bad things are going to happen if you don't," I order him sternly. 

There were guaranteed to be assassins here, all of them gunning for Malia, Liam, and Scott. I had to run interference on them, but that also left someone to deal with the music. I couldn't be in two places at once, and I doubted Mason even knew how to punch someone, so I couldnt send him out into the night searching for trouble. 

Mason gawks at me, unmoving. 

"Are you high?" he whispers. 

I sigh, things clearly not going my way tonight. 

I move to pass Mason, settling for hoping I could cut the power to the sound system, and then run like hell to find my supernatural companions before they were slaughtered. Though, that last-minute plan can't come to fruition as Mason stands in my way, not allowing me to drop our conversation with such ease. 

"Liam's my best friend. If someone's trying to hurt him, you need to tell me," he argues. 

Reluctantly, I keep my mouth shut. It wasn't my place to tell Mason about the supernatural, it was Liam's. That was a secret only he could decide to reveal, as it was their bond that would be put at risk if Mason didn't react well. However, I also felt wrong saying nothing at all, because Mason had grown to be my friend, too. 

"Mason, all you need to know is that I swear to you I will never let anyone hurt him," I say strongly. "But I can't do that unless you turn off the music."

Mason nods to himself, processing my words. 

"Okay," he mutters. 

With that, he promptly turns and marches toward the DJ. 

I let out a low laugh, admittedly impressed with his sudden bravery. My attention doesn't linger on him for long, because once he's out of my sight, I bolt toward the closest building in the courtyard, ready to begin my search for our misplaced friends. 

Though, that plan comes to a sudden halt when I reach to open the double doors and find them locked. They should've been open for everyone to be able to use the bathroom inside. Them being closed only made my desire to enter increase, as it felt as though I was being purposefully kept away. 

I round the building, heading for the back doors. 

They're open, and I pass through them without hesitation, sprinting down the hallways before me. I listen for any signs of struggle or calls for help, but the only sound I pick up on is my rapid steps. The interior of the school is dark, making me squint down lengthy hallways in hopes of any clues. My attention slips when I near a corner and a figure swings their arm out from around it, shoving a security baton into my gut forcefully.

The impact causes me to drop to my knees, pain coursing through me. I cough roughly, desperately trying to breathe normally. It's difficult, as that hit has made me feel like I've been stabbed all over again. 

"Again," a male voice demands. 

Before I'm able to take in the sight of my attacker or recuperate, the baton is driven into the side of my face. The force causes my teeth to cut the delicate interior of my mouth, distasteful blood instantly coating my tongue. Another person kicks at my back, forcing me to the ground. 

I blink over and over again, trying to clear my now blurred vision and take in my surroundings. 

Two guards stand over me. One of them, the one with the baton, is the man I saw outside earlier. He still has that same creepy aura about him, and now I understand why. Three more guards lurk in the shadows behind him, hiding from my view. They hover above Malia, Liam, and Scott who all appear to be drenched in gasoline, the pungent stench stinging my nose. 

Liam and Malia were unconscious, while Scott was propped up against nearby lockers. His body was limp, but his eyes revealed he was completely aware of everything that was happening. His gaze holds an apology he can't voice, as there's nothing he can do to stop this. 

He winces as the music outside increases, a sign Mason had yet to succeed. 

The guard who had kicked me comes forward, picking me up by the backing of my sweater. He hauls me onto my knees and grips my arms behind my body, keeping me pinned. 

"Is this her? Is this the other hunter?" he asks one of his companions who resides in the shadows. 

"Yeah," says a familiar voice. "That's her." 

Out of the darkness, Miles reveals himself in the light with an arrogant smirk. 

I lunge at him with growing rage, but the guard behind me holds me tight. His grip begins to lessen the more I struggle, but before I can get an inch away from him, the other guard strikes my head once again with his baton. 

I'm unable to contain a sharp yell, feeling my skull sting from the thickly coated plastic. A dull ringing noise echoes through my head, and it takes a few shakes for me to be able to hear properly. Even then, the presence of the attack remains, and I feel less stable than I had minutes ago. 

Miles saunters over, kneeling in front of me. 

He's dressed in a deputy's uniform, definitely given to him by Haigh. A bandage peeks out from under his buttoned sleeve, covering the area where I had stabbed him. I find that I regret not going for the killing slice, as it would have saved us the trouble. 

"Not so tough now, are you, Argent?" he sneers playfully.

I don't respond, only settle for glaring at him. He enjoys my silence; relishes in it. Though, his joy is short-lived as I pool the blood that gathered in my mouth, and spit it in his face. 

He wipes it off urgently, cursing at me with fury and disgust. I laugh freely, but it's swiftly cut off by him delivering a sturdy punch to the surface of my abdominal wound. I'm unable to curl and block his hit despite seeing it coming, as the guard behind me keeps me open. It leaves me breathless, and I have to force myself to gasp in order to regain what was stolen.

Scott struggles, trying to aid me. It's a useless effort as one of the other guards, a large balding man, kicks him back into the lockers. 

I stare at him from over Miles' shoulder, shaking my head. There was still a chance he could make it. Braeden and Derek were on their way, and Mason could still pull through. Either option would provide him with a chance to fight and live. He couldn't do that if he took Miles' attention, as there was no telling if the man would kill him on the spot. I didn't care if he kept attacking me, as long as it meant my friends would be okay. 

"You should be thanking yourself for all of this," Miles tells me snidely. 

His hand drifts to the side, landing on Malia's head. I wrestle against the guard pinning me once again as he starts to brush the hair from her face, disgusted by him touching her. My reaction only makes Miles' smirk widen. 

"It's because of you that I decided to get out of the hunting business, and venture into more lucrative opportunities," he adds teasingly. 

I scoff at his claims, as if our situations were comparable in the slightest.

Araya was nowhere near as tyrannical or psychotic as Gerard. She may have been power-hungry, but she had a respect for the code that was admirable. I left Gerard's side because he never saw anything besides his own wants. He murdered and manipulated people who had done nothing to warrant harm. It was sickening to remember the part of me that considered it an honor to be trusted by him, relishing in his illusion of equality.

"Araya had you at her side. She trusted you, and you are betraying her for money?" I seethe in disbelief. 

"Unlike you, I don't take pride in being someone's lap dog," Miles scoffs. 

"And after what Araya let you pull at the motel, I'm done. She was a soft spot for you. It's a weakness." 

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to hide my confusion over his words. Araya constantly threatening me didn't feel like a soft spot. 

Miles ignores my leering, moving to stand. 

"You were right that day in Mexico, by the way," he adds lightly. "The guide was only twenty." 

He chuckles darkly at my stunned expression, as I realize now he had been stealing from Araya for weeks, maybe even months. He had betrayed his family while happily branding me as the traitor. 

Rage and resentment knock on the door of my soul, and it was becoming harder to repress them. I wanted to hurt Miles, wanted to make him pay, but I couldn't like this. 

Learn how to take it, Kate's voice echoes in my mind. 

I felt the urge to snap at her memory. I sought out her teachings in times like this; times of struggle and strife. It made me want to rip out everything inside of me that she created, but I couldn't. I couldn't, because in order to save my friends, I had to be what she made me into. 

"If you walk away now, you have my word that I won't come after you," I say to the men in my company. They quickly burst into a fit of laughter. 

"Is that your version of begging?" Miles questions amusedly. 

"No," I admit, staring up at him with a blank expression.

"It's a fair chance. Take it, or else I'm going to kill you."

He stops to study me, wondering if it's an empty threat. Honestly, so am I. After a beat, he ignores me and faces his fellow false guards. 

"Put her with the others," he demands. "She can burn with the dogs." 

The men follow his orders with ease, none of them flinching as Miles makes his decision. The guard that pinned my arms used his leverage to lift me from the floor, guiding me toward my friends. I take steadying breaths as we move, preparing myself for what's to come. I wait until the man's grip has shifted on my forearms, feeling his fingers slip as he intends to shove me onto the ground. 

I take the opportunity to spin around, yanking myself free from his fading hold. He's stunned and unable to recuperate as I grab the back of his neck. I swiftly drive his head into the locker he was going to slam me into. The sheer force of the collision leaves a dent in the flimsy metal and pulls the man into unconsciousness. 

I allow him to fall to the ground without care before facing the other guards. 

Most of them stiffen, preparing for my next attack. Miles is the only one of them to appear partially annoyed at the sudden hitch in his plan. The balding guard to his left steals my full attention as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a lighter. 

"You can't take us all on," He says arrogantly, flicking the flint wheel to ignite the flame. He dangles it over Scott, Malia, and Liam, keeping me in place. 

Panic sets in as I understand he has a point. 

There's Miles and two other guards with the balding man. Any one of them could distract me and leave enough time for my friends to be burned alive. This situation felt impossible. That is until I hear the distant thumping of the music outside come to an awkward halt. It's followed by a crowd of disgruntled teenagers yelling, a sign that Mason had come through for us, and unknowingly saved our lives. 

Scott's hand shoots out, covering the lighter that's in his face to snuff out the flame. The balding man was too distracted to dodge him. He groans in pain as Scott clamps down on his wrist soon after, twisting his arm until the bones below his skin audibly pop out of place. 

The other guards move to assist him, but are taken aback by Braeden and Derek's arrival. They step out from a blind corner nearby, instantly coming to our aid. 

Braeden jams her shotgun into the temple of the badling man, knocking him out. Derek rushes from behind her, taking on the other two guards, still braver than most even with his dwindling powers. Braeden advances on Miles, but I gesture for her to stop. She understands I'm claiming him as my own and returns to Scott. 

Miles' eyes dart from me to the double doors down the hall over my shoulder. 

He's obviously debating what to do, his mind racing as seconds fly by. If he wants freedom, he'll have to fight me as I'm all that stands in his way. He could take his chances with surrender, but I know he's still wondering if my earlier offer was a bluff. 

"You should've walked away," I say in a low voice, almost a whisper. 

My words force him to make up his mind, and he charges at me. 

I meet him head-on, our bodies colliding in the middle. We both scramble to get the upper hand, neither wanting to be the weaker opponent. It's a laborious effort, as Miles has pounds of muscle on me that I have to combat. He's not as trained as I am, though. Skill always triumphs over size, but that doesn't make it easy. He's still got raw strength, and he knows it.

Miles pushes until we meet a wall, his arm jamming into my chest to hold me in place. He uses his other hand to deliver powerful jabs into my abdomen, using my wound against me. I cry out a few times, unable to help it. Understanding I couldn't stay like this much longer, I bring my knee up between his legs and land a blow that leaves him indisposed. It's a cheap shot, but he deserved it.

He falters and backs away from me to curl into himself. I round his hunched-over figure, kicking into his side to make him topple to the floor.

"You should've walked away," I repeat, my voice holding a slight growl. 

Miles scrambles, attempting to get back up. However, he's too slow. Before he can fend it off, I stomp the sole of my boot into the center of his face. His attempts to stand come to an end. Instead, he raises his arms, defending his head from further attacks. It's a decent move, but since he's on the offensive now, he leaves the rest of his body wide open.

I send another kick into his side, this time aiming for his upper torso. I repeatedly stomp at his chest, unbothered by the way he yells and struggles. Once he lets out a mangled shriek, I know I've successfully shattered something. 

"Stop," he wheezes out, clutching his lower chest, not trying to deflect anymore.

I move to stand over him, gripping the collar of his uniform to lift his upper body. He pants wildly as he does nothing, too pained to resist. 

"Jac?" Liam calls out softly from behind me, the frequency no longer keeping him under.

I don't turn to acknowledge him, only continue to leer at Miles. His dark eyes plead for mercy; plead for his life that was in my hands. Mercy soon becomes a foreign concept as I remember exactly what he had tried to take from me tonight.

The first punch should've felt wrong, but it doesn't. It brings me a sense of relief that's almost comforting, so I do it again, and again, and again. 

At first, Miles tries to fight back, but soon he just lays there and decides to let it happen. His whimpers don't bother me the way they should and neither does his blood. I can hear Scott's voice behind me commanding me to stop, I don't. 

I keep hitting him because, for someone like me, the easiest way to find serenity is in violence. I felt almost like an addict. 

I had fallen into old ways because there was nothing to keep me sober.

I tried to picture Liam, wondering if he would make me stop, but it only made me remember the fleeting touch of his lips and that brought me more pain than any wound could. I wanted to rely on Scott's voice, to use it as some kind of tether, but then his words from earlier tonight echoed in my head instead, and that fueled my rage.

The warmth of another body radiates at my side. 

It's the only thing that can stop me, as I whip to face them on high alert, thinking of them as another potential threat. They aren't, though. 

Derek stands there, watching me. 

He doesn't flinch at Miles' face that's been shredded under my fist, or urge me to stop. He simply waits for me to make my own choice, as this was a decision he had to face a long time ago, too. He had to choose whether or not he could be the person he was, or fight to try and become the person he wanted to be. In the process of it all, he lost so much and it almost ruined him. Yet, he stood in front of me now, stronger than ever.

"It's okay," he whispers like it's a secret between the two of us, and truthfully, it is.

No one else could understand me like him, because the root of our problems was the same. Kate. Everything she had stripped me of, she had taken from him, too. No one else could feel what I felt at this moment but him, and no one else could help me understand that the only person that could pull me back from my self-destructive tendencies, was me.

Kate had been our creator, but she didn't have to be our undoing. Not if we could help it. 

I look back down at Miles as he moans in agony. His body is all but limp in my hand as his injuries keep him from bolting. I drop his collar, allowing him to fall to the floor out of my reach. I take a few steps back, too, unable to handle the sight of his pulped face. 

My gaze finds that of my friends, all of them staring at me. 

Scott's the closest, only a few feet away. It's obvious he was trying to stumble over to me as he fought off the haze of the frequency, probably hoping to pull me off of Miles. He looks worried, but the more prominent emotion he wore was guilt. Selfishly, I want him to feel that for a while longer.

I tear my eyes away from him and they pass over to Braeden and Malia who stand there patiently. They're aware of how hard it is to have to fight off a killer instinct, and they don't judge me for what they saw. 

Liam's still on the ground near them, rising from his knees. 

I hesitate to connect our eyes, worried about what I might find within his stare. I force myself to look at him, because I need to see the truth. I need to see if he understands that this is always going to be a part of who I am.

I wait to discover disgust or fear, but all I find are his delicate blue eyes filled with tears. 

He's watching me with the same gentle care he always has, and it makes me want to turn and run; to hide, because he's not scared of me, and I wish he was. I want him to fear and hate me, because it would be easier. I needed him to push me away, because I'm not strong enough to do it to him.

A sudden flash of light fills the hallway through the windows, brightening our environment as lightning strikes. It's followed up with a booming crack of thunder, the storm that had been looming above us finally arrives.

The silence between us almost feels eternal, so I make the move to end it. I know what I need to do now, and it's time to stop running from it.

"Braeden," I say to get her attention. "Call the Calaveras."

~

||| A\N |||

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