(Song of the chapter: 'Cross Me' - Ed Sheehan ft. Chance the Rapper & PnB Rock)

BRANDON

I slid my tray on the table as I took the seat beside my friend.

"You should be training."

Rhys turned slowly. His blue eyes studied me.

I calmly met his gaze and held it.

It was weird eating lunch without Rhys. He'd explained to me that Avalon was feeling squirmy around him right now, so he needed to back away and give her space until she was comfortable again. I could understand the feeling since I regularly felt that way around people – but not Rhys.

His gaze might have been hard for others to hold, but I always found them comforting. Their deep blue reminded me of the sea, and I could imagine myself gently rocking back and forth amongst peaceful waves that matched Rhys's chill vibes whenever I stared at them.

It also helped that he also never said things he didn't mean. The words coming from his mouth always matched the look in his eyes. I didn't have to try and puzzle over what he actually meant because he didn't have a problem saying it. People online called Rhys 'rude' because of how blunt he could be, but I honestly found it soothing.

In fact, the one and only time I'd felt squirmy around Rhys had been so confusing to me. Even thinking about it still made my stomach twist up in knots.

"Why?" He finally replied, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I blinked.

I considered Rhys one of the smartest people I knew. That said, he could be kind of an idiot sometimes.

I turned the question back on him. "Don't you think you should be training? You're up against a guy who's on every sports team in the school. I know you work out, but he's got more stamina, and..."

The look on his face showed I wasn't really getting through to him. So I paused and tried to reorganize my thoughts.

"I know you see him as just some degenerate," I said, tapping a finger against the table, "but I think he's actually really dangerous. I... I looked into his eyes once and there was this... feeling, like liquid tar was running down my back." My fingers spasmed, betraying my anxiety.

Rhys still didn't look very concerned. "Yet even more proof that someone needs to punch the lights out of that fucker."

"Why don't you let me do it?"

My fingers danced to the tune of my desperation. "I wouldn't mind. I even want to. It wouldn't affect me, but you could hurt your hands and you need them. To paint..."

I finally made a breakthrough. Rhys's eyes started to look more solemn as he stared at me. I held still as he reached out a hand towards me.

"Don't worry about my hands, Brandon," he murmured, threading said hand through my hair.

The scrape of his fingers against my scalp seemed to make everything settle. My fingers stilled, and the next breath I took came easier.

I strained, wanting him to do it again.

He did. "And don't worry about me." The pads of his fingertips gently patted my head.

"I'll be fine."

I peered closely at him. Rhys didn't say things he didn't mean, and right now I could tell that he meant that. If he said he'd be fine, I'd just have to trust that he would be.

Still... "He's not coming near Avalon again," I said quietly.

Rhys's jaw clenched. "No, he's not."

I didn't need to look in his eyes to know he meant that too.

Satisfied, I dug into my lunch tray. Rhys's gaze wandered over to the library doors... and the long line of students peeking through, all looking at him expectantly.

He sighed heavily.

"Next."

AVALON

I stared at her.

The world had slowed to a crawl, what felt like an eternity passing by as I continued to gape at this girl. For some reason, comprehending English had become difficult all of a sudden.

Did she really just say 'bodyguard'?

And 'related'?

My shocked stupor must've alerted Vixen. She rose up on her haunches and peered out through my eyes.

What did this human just say? She asked, dripping with obvious disdain.

On the other hand, what's-her-name...Sophie? was downright cheerful.

"I know, I was shocked myself when I found out," she said with a wide beam. "But apparently, it's true."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

*Author says in presenter voice* – I would like to pause your regularly scheduled scrolling here to present you with this: A Very Convoluted Family Tree!

I understand that my story can get confusing sometimes, so here's a map, lol.

Carry on! 

"Over here," she pointed at the top of the family tree, "is your great-great-grandfather Killian."

Her finger slid to the side. "And that's his estranged brother, Horatio. I guess it's easy to estrange someone with a name like Horatio. Then," she said, referring to the next couple, "there's Siobhan and Molly. They were a bit touch-and-go for a while because gay rights wasn't a thing back then, but they found a way to make it work."

She scooted an inch downwards. "With a little help, they eventually managed to have a kid, which was great. But they named him Horatio, so they must not have loved him," she mused.

"Now this Horatio had no problems reproducing. He had, like, a gazillion children."

Sophie poked at one of the stems protruding from Horatio the Second. "That one's my dad. And that's me."

She grinned. "So that makes us what, like, fourth cousins or so? A fine situation, isn't it?"

I wasn't moving or thinking. I wasn't even blinking.

Archer had found some long-lost relative of mine... who just so happened to be a fucking ninja... to come babysit me.

My jaw was on the floor. No, it had gone through the floor, and was now hurtling towards the seventh circle of hell. That's how fucking shook I was.

I knew my brother took being protective to entirely new levels, but this... this was...

I – I had no words.

She was still talking. "You look like you're my age too. About sixteen, seventeen, right?"

I didn't – couldn't – respond. Was this how unknowing fathers felt like when their children showed up out of the blue with paternity tests?

Like, just imagine if Luke Skywalker had walked up to Darth Vader, shoved a DNA test in his face, then said, "Darth, I am your son." It would have been a completely different movie.

Sophie was still talking. "I'm sure its a lot to take in."

She shifted the strap of her backpack again. "I was completely speechless myself. It's not every day some bloke wearing black tracks me down and tells me to watch over his teenage werewolf half-sister..."

My jaw shut with an audible click.

Without thinking, I reached out, grabbed her arm, then hightailed us towards the nearest bathroom.

Once inside, I looked around to make sure no one was in the stalls. After confirming this, the words stuck in my throat finally fell free from my lips.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

Sophie jumped at my volume, but I didn't have it in me to care.

Archer had actually told her, an outsider, about the existence of werewolves? Why???

He must've deemed the info necessary for her to do her job. Her job – to babysit me... something he'd decided on and carried out without even discussing it with... oh, you know... ME!

He had taken things way too far this time. Like hell I was going to let it slide.

I reached down our bond, seeking him out.

Archer? My tone was deadly.

I sensed his presence immediately. He felt calm and... patient. Waiting.

Waiting for me to rage and yell at him. And while I did, he'd have no recriminations or feelings of wrongdoing. Oh no, he'd just sit and take it. Let me get it all out, my justified anger and feelings of betrayal, and say nothing in his own defense, the martyrdom so poignant it'd be leaking out of him.

So sure in the rightness of his actions, and so sure that his stubborn little sister wouldn't understand it was 'for her own good'. Anticipating it even.

I had a feeling that nothing I said or threw at him would rile him up to even a fraction of the anger I was feeling.

So I said nothing. I stilled the darts and daggers waiting to fly from my tongue and swallowed them down. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction, and there was none I could gain either.

Fine, then, I said instead, my tone like the icy winds blowing across the tundra.

I'm not talking to you.

And with that, I shut the mental gates of my mind, effectively closing off our bond.

Not speaking to Archer for a few weeks, or most likely months, wouldn't solve any of our problems. But it would sure as hell make me feel better.

That, and it'll help make me less tempted to commit fratricide.

Doing this, however, surprisingly sapped a lot of my strength. One moment I'd been ramrod straight as a pole, and the next I almost keeled over like my center of gravity had shifted.

My newfound cousin had been keeping a wary distance because of my outburst, but now she hurried over with a worried look on her face.

"Are you alright then?"

In one move, I managed to right myself then pierced her with a glance.

I'm not speaking to you either.

I felt gratified to watch her freeze in her tracks. Without a proper outlet, my anger had cooled considerably, turned into a cold, hard ball that stuck in my throat. But frost could burn just as well as fire, something I'd gladly let her in on if she came too close.

Stay the hell away from me, I inwardly seethed.

I turned and strode out of the bathroom, fighting to contain the chill inside me.

My efforts were nearly rendered moot when Sophie fell into step beside me.

I sent her another nerve-shuttering glare, but apart from stiffening briefly, she kept up the pace once I turned away.

My fingers dug into my fist.

Since telling her to go away would require actually talking to her, I decided just to ignore her. I'm sure it would come to her eventually.

I made my way into class with an ever-growing storm cloud above my head. Sophie slid into the seat beside me.

My pencil snapped in my grip.

Just fucking great.

_

I was starting to figure out that Archer had somehow gotten her a timetable that matched with mine. She followed me to every single class, right on my heels like some little puppy dog.

So far I had avoided even looking in her direction, but from the few glances I couldn't help taking, I caught a glimpse of a face masked with careful blandness. She seemed thoughtful, though. Like she'd figured out I might me more trouble than she anticipated.

This gave me quite a bit of dark satisfaction. I fully intended to be nothing but trouble for a whole heap of people after this.

I hadn't been as approached today as I had been the past two days, since people took one look at me and decided to wisely scurry out of my way. So there I was, walking through the hallways unobstructed, when I heard a loud voice ahead.

"OUT OF MY WAY!"

Kids were stumbling over themselves to leap out of the path of a tiny figure storming down the halls, making their way...

Towards me.

Alisson Montgomery's doe-eyes locked on me, then narrowed as if to say 'Target Acquired'.

"You."

She stomped towards me, her heels hammering the ground with each step. The dark haze of simmering anger had almost completely clouded my vision, so for a moment I could only stare at her numbly.

Sophie, correctly deeming her a threat, slid right in front of me.

Alisson screeched to a halt. She gave Sophie a look that would've withered grass.

"Who the actual fuck are you?"

Sophie raised her brows. "The person standing between she and you," she said, like it should be obvious.

Alisson's lip curled, teeth bared. Then, deliberately ignoring Sophie, she fixed her gaze on me.

"Call off your dog," she said through a clenched jaw, her eyes aflame.

"She's not my dog," I automatically retorted. I saw Sophie shoot me a glance over her shoulder.

"Not this," she said in a disgusted tone, gesturing dismissively towards Sophie.

"Rhys."

I blinked, the haze dissipating. What?

Alisson folded her arms and glared at my clueless expression. "Oh don't play dumb. You know what that brute is planning. Why is it that you people can't leave my boyfriend alone? You've messed with his face twice now, isn't that enough?"

Was this leprechaun-sized bitch serious?

My mind snagged on the first part of her speech.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

"The fight. In the school's parking lot. That's about to happen any minute now." Each statement came out clipped.

"That dog of yours is about to pummel my boyfriend!"

Me cago en la leche.

All I'd asked was that Rhys to give me space for a few days. That was it.

Did I ask him to capture the Loch Ness Monster and pluck out its teeth with tweezers? No. Did I tell him to raid King Tut's tomb or spin straw into gold? Nada.

Did I ask for the fucking impossible?

'No, Avalon, you did not.'

Why, thank you, sensible reader.

I tell him to do this one thing for me, and suddenly he goes rogue and I have people I don't care about complimenting me, people I don't know following me, and people I want to kill annoying me.

It was enough to drive an assassin to murder.

Looks like today was Rhys's lucky day.

Without another word, I headed directly for the parking lot, ignoring Alisson's high-pitched "Hey!" as I walked away. Like clockwork, Sophie followed after me.

I turned the corner, aiming for the staircase that led to the parking lot. And ran straight into Brandon.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he'd been waiting for me.

"Hi, Avalon," he greeted, straightening.

I gaped at him. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Rhys and Jack are about to fight," he said simply. "It could get messy, so I wanted to warn you not to get too close."

I inhaled deeply. Held it. Let it out.

"Did anyone try to talk to talk him out of this... course of action?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Brandon looked thoughtful. "I told him not to do it."

I gazed up at him with my heart in my eyes. Oh, bless him, wonderful boy! At that moment, I could've kissed his feet.

"I told him to let me do it instead, but he said he could handle it. And he meant it too," Brandon reassured me, "so you don't have to worry about him."

I facepalmed. Hard.

Through the gaps between my fingers, I saw his gaze wander over to my left, where Sophie stood.

It was like a flash of lightning had gone off behind his eyes. I turned to Sophie and saw she looked similarly thunderstruck.

Of course this day could get worse.

I raised my gaze to the sky and glared at it, trying to tell Zeus, or maybe Aphrodite – whoever was fucking with my life right now – to stop that shit.

Brandon blinked multiple times, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Er, hello," Sophie spoke first, her eyes bright. Brandon's gaze raked her face for several long seconds, coming close to her eyes but not quite meeting them.

"Your hair is really pretty," he finally said.

Sophie's cheeks pinked.

Someone, please, stab me. Please.

More than a little miffed now, I sidestepped them as they made their little introductions and stared over the balcony at the scene below, keeping my eyes peeled for a certain someone.

I spotted Jasper and Lilith. Jasper was holding a camera and aiming it in front of him. Lilith was wearing a flimsy red crop-top and denim shorts while holding a flag, like she'd wandered out of some kind of music video.

Then there was Rhys.

He was leaning against a car, in black muscle-tee that showed off his biceps, looking mildly bored.

As if attuned to my presence, he looked up, saw me, and grinned.

"JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU"RE DOING?" I yelled at him.

He waved.

It was, indeed, a great day for murder.

Noticing the shift in Rhys's attention, Jacques looked up. He was standing among a group of guys who seemed to be giving him a pep talk, though he wasn't giving them any attention.

The sight of his icy blue eyes froze me in place, from my limbs to my throat. I was suddenly back in that room, locked in, claustrophobic and caged into my own body for someone else to torment.

Never again.

I reared back so fast I almost crashed into Sophie. Then felt irked at how relieved I was when she steadied me with a hand and came to stand beside me.

She peered down. "It is a battle!" Her face lit up. "What fine craic."

"They're on crack," I snarled back, running a shaky hand through my strands. "This is utter lunacy."

Brandon took the spot on my other side. A shrill whistle interrupted the restless silence. Lilith beamed and pulled two fingers from her mouth once everyone turned to her.

"We're just about ready to start!" She announced.

"As you can see, this fight is between that," she gestured derisively at Jacques, who rolled his eyes, "and Rhys! The most bloody brilliant mate a girl can ever ask for. I love you," she stage-whispered, blowing a kiss at Rhys, who also rolled his eyes.

"If you could both turn a little so the camera could capture all of this...there we go. Do either of you have any words for us?"

A terse silence ensued. Jacques eyed Rhys like a rattlesnake waiting to strike. In return, Rhys calmly studied him like he was a rather charming species of gecko.

A shark sensing blood, Vixen rose to awareness. This should be interesting, she mused.

No, please, don't be interesting. I bit down on my thumb nervously.

"You can forfeit, you know."

Jacques blinked. It was clearly the last thing he'd expected Rhys to say. For a moment, he looked confused, then he took in the large the crowd watching and his jaw tightened.

"I'll pass," he retorted stiffly. It was a matter of personal pride now.

Rhys smiled like he'd got Jacques exactly where he wanted him. It seemed his desire to always, always have the approval of others was about to be his downfall.

Because I believed Rhys could beat him. Of course I did. Especially now when he was looking at the guy like he was already mincemeat.

Lilith sharply brought down the flag and stepped away.

I fought another facepalm.

Rhys calmly pushed off from the car he was leaning against. Jacques immediately squared up and narrowly watched him, looking for an opening. He even seemed to have some idea of what he was doing as he put his fists up.

Rhys, still looking unforgivably bored, calmly started walking towards him.

Jacques eyes widened.

It might have been the easy way he carried himself – or the sleepy expression on his face – that threw Jacques off. Panic gripped him as Rhys got closer. Almost reflexively, he threw a punch at Rhys.

I bit down on my lip hard enough to bleed.

Rhys was taller, broader, took up more space...

He dodged easily.

Jacques' fist automatically shot out again, but he fared no better this time. It didn't stop him though. He kept lashing out at Rhys – left, right, left, right, like some fricking wind-up toy, not even bothering to switch up his tempo.

I caught on Rhys's next move before he'd even taken it.

His clenched fist shot out and solidly connected with Jacques' stomach, right in the opening he'd created for himself.

Jacques doubled over, gasping.

Lazily, Rhys lifted a hand. The back of his palm struck Jacques in the face and sent him reeling.

Jacques just managed to catch himself before he fell. Rhys just stared at him, his palm still raised, as if waiting for Jacques to collect himself.

The bright red print on his cheek pulled back and creased with the force of the scowl Jacques shot Rhys. Rhys smiled.

This time, when Jacques came at Rhys, his stance and the look in his eyes changed and he prepared to meet him. Like he was just now taking the fight seriously.

He was toying with him before, I realized.

I can appreciate any male who takes the time to play with their food, Vixen nearly purred.

Don't refer to Jacques as food, I snapped at her.

An eyebrow rose. And why should I not call him what he is?

The fight was unfolding in earnest now. Punches flew nearly faster than I could follow, and the brutal sound of fist meeting flesh had me cringing more than once. Rhys continued to stand tall throughout this onslaught, but it was clear to see that he'd taken more than a few hits.

I felt sick to my stomach. Stop, just stop, I wanted to say. I'd blocked out the whistles and cheers from the crowd, and whatever Sophie and Brandon were discussing. My whole world had reduced to watching Jacques hit Rhys again.

I was fairly certain my nails were drawing blood from my clenched fist. I couldn't stand this, couldn't stand here watching Rhys get hurt.

If he punched Rhys one more time, I was not going to be responsible for my actions.

Right on the heels of that thought, and hearing Vixen call me a pussy-legged princess, the tide of the battle suddenly took a turn. Where Jacques and Rhys had been landing solid punches on each other for the past two minutes (it's only been two minutes?) now I watched as Rhys curved around the fist launched his way, sending Jacques sprawling forward with the momentum.

It was the beginning of the end. A clean, deadly right hook hammered into his face point-blank.

The audience ooohed. Vixen laughed heartily.

Rhys didn't stop for Jacques to shake it off like before. Gripping his tee, he held him in place and punched him again, then again.

One hit had blood spraying from his mouth. With the next, a small white object flew out and thunked neatly onto the gravel.

Holy fuck.

The sack of bones that was Jacques clattered unceremoniously to the ground. Even then Rhys didn't let up. His motions were cool and precise as he walked towards where Jacques was sprawled. But the look in his eyes was pure fire.

Crouching, Rhys grabbed his ankles and dragged him across the concrete, then gripped him by the hair when he neared. Jacques yelled and tried to bat Rhys away. Calmly, Rhys caught his fist then twisted his entire arm behind his back.

Jacques' roar could've shaken the entire building. I couldn't help my flinch.

Unfazed by the volume, Rhys pulled Jacques' head back, forging his gaze higher.

"That girl up there," he said mildly, "you owe her an apology."

Jacques cussed Rhys out. He had to spit blood out of his mouth to do so, and the language he used would've peeled the skin off a cemetery of corpses. The crowd had sure gone as quiet as one.

Rhys was merciless. He made no reply, just hoisted Jacques' arm up higher.

Jacques' next scream choked off into a grunt as he lay gasping to breathe through obviously excruciating pain.

"He seems rather put out," Sophie remarked, her tone wary.

Brandon just nodded. "That he does."

Jacques' face was completely red, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Rhys just waited. There was nothing behind those eyes now, no fury or malice. Just patience.

A frission of something cold ran through me even as Vixen laughed. God, he's fantastic!

"I'm sorry."

The words were so soft they'd almost been swept away with the wind, but I heard them. But they'd been uttered. Even as I stood in shock Rhys just raised a cynical brow.

"Are you apologizing to the gravel?" He fiercely yanked Jacques' gaze up from where it had lowered.

"Look. At. Her," Rhys bit out.

Jacques slowly tilted his eyes towards mine. The face I saw staring back at me was broken, bruised, and not entirely undeserving of sympathy.

"I'm sorry... Avalon."

I felt multiple eyes swing towards me as I stood frozen. How was I supposed to reconcile this broken thing on the ground with the person who'd caused me such abject misery for months and months?

How was I supposed to ever fear him again?

Rhys was staring at me as well.

"Was that good enough for you? I can keep going if you'd like me to."

The thought lingered in my mind for more than a second.

Let him, Vixen coaxed, licking her muzzle. Allow him to prove himself to as a good enough mate.

I came to a screeching halt.

Mate? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 'MATE'?

Even without that last addition, I knew agreeing with Vixen was never a great idea.

Rhys and everyone else was still waiting. 

I slammed my bloody palms on the railing. "No, let him go!"

Vixen growled in annoyance.

Rhys stared up at me for a moment longer. And then his gaze... softened.

Something seemed to click in place as I held his gaze. It was as if all along I'd been subconsciously reaching to him, and in that moment I – very viscerally – felt him reach back.

Oh. My God.

Before I could even quantify what that meant, he looked back at Jacques, his expression hardening.

"You should be grateful she's nothing like you," he viciously whispered, followed by something I didn't quite catch that drained all the red out of Jacques' face.

He pushed off from the ground and Lilith didn't hesitate to hurry over and start checking him for injuries. Jacques' football buddies rushed over to help him up, and all the while I continued standing around in a daze.

What just happened? I wondered, perplexed.

Sophie picked that exact moment to lean over my shoulder.

"I think he's got a yen for you," she helpfully informed me.

********************************************************************************

Me cago en la leche - I shit in the milk. A simpler translation is just 'Fuck'.

Craic - Irish slang for 'fun'.

Have a yen - Irish slang for desiring something/someone.

I've missed you guys so much. About ten billion percent much. I'd never just want to go away, but I couldn't help it this time. Believe me when I say I'm trying my best to give both you guys and this story the appreciation and respect you rightly deserve.

Te amo demasiado,

Lulu.