The revelation hit her like a tidal wave—werewolves. The word echoed in her mind, making her stomach churn. Her boyfriend and her ex-best friend were werewolves, and as if that wasn't enough, Lydia and Stiles had known all along. Quinn's world tilted off its axis, and she stared at the ground, the weight of betrayal pressing heavily on her chest.

Anger bubbled under the surface, mingling with a sense of deep hurt. She felt like a fool for not seeing it, for trusting them so completely.

The betrayal stung most deeply when she thought of Isaac. He had promised her so many things: no lies, no secrets. Those promises had been their foundation, the glue that held their bond together. Now, it felt like that bond had been shattered into pieces too small to mend.

The truth wasn't just overwhelming—it was disorienting. Who was she supposed to be angry with? Her captors, who had snatched her from her world, or the people she thought were her friends, who had kept her in the dark for nearly a year?

For the first time since her abduction, Kali and Ennis saw an emotional crack in Quinn's calm exterior. It was a glimmer of vulnerability that they had been waiting for. They exchanged a knowing look before Kali stepped away to inform their leader. The report didn't take long, and Deucalion wasted no time issuing his orders.

"Bring her to me," he commanded, his voice cool and decisive.

Quinn didn't resist when they came for her. What was the point? Her trust had already been violated by those closest to her. She followed them silently, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions.

...

Deucalion was not what she expected.

Seated across from him, Quinn felt an odd mix of fear and intrigue. He was calm, almost unnervingly so, and the faint smile on his lips contrasted sharply with the tales of his ruthlessness she'd heard whispered during her capture.

His face bore a gentle expression, but there was an unmistakable malice lurking beneath. Yet, for reasons she couldn't explain, there was something about his presence that felt oddly... safe.

"Quinn," he said softly, his voice smooth and warm. It caught her off guard, making her fists tighten against her lap. She nodded hesitantly, unsure of how to respond.

He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Such an innocent soul," he murmured, as though speaking to himself.

It was then that she noticed the subtle cloudiness in his eyes, and realization dawned. "You're blind..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I am," Deucalion acknowledged with a small laugh. "But don't pity me, child. Blindness does not make one weak. If anything, it sharpens what remains." He tapped his nose and ears for emphasis.

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I... I didn't mean to offend—"

"No offence taken," he interjected smoothly, his tone disarming. "Now, tell me, Quinn. How do you feel?"

Her first instinct was to stay silent, but his gaze—or what passed for it—was unwavering. "I feel... scared," she admitted, then paused. "And... angry."

Deucalion nodded knowingly. "Angry," he repeated. "Good. Anger is honest. It's a driving force, and it can lead to clarity if you let it."

Before she could respond, he leaned forward slightly, his demeanour shifting from soothing to intent. "What if I offered you a way to channel that anger? A proposition, if you will."

Quinn frowned, her suspicion rising. "A proposition?"

"Yes," he said, his voice measured. "I'm offering you power, Quinn. A chance to never feel powerless again. To protect yourself and those you care about."

"You mean... you're suggesting I let you turn me into a werewolf?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Deucalion nodded. "Only if you want it. The choice is entirely yours."

"But... why me?" she asked, shaking her head. "What do you gain from this?"

His smile widened ever so slightly. "Because, my dear, the world is not as innocent as you think it is. You are a beacon of purity in a cruel, unforgiving storm. I see in you something rare—potential. You could be so much more than a pawn in this game."

Quinn's hands clenched on the table. "I won't become evil," she said firmly.

Deucalion laughed softly, shaking his head. "Evil? No, Quinn. You're not capable of evil. But you could be something far more dangerous: calculated. Strategic. A protector of your own destiny."

"Why would I do it?" she pressed, her voice rising. "Why would I do anything for you?"

"Because," he said, his tone shifting to one of quiet gravity, "your friends think keeping you in the dark protects you. They're wrong. Their secrecy makes you vulnerable. You are their weakness, and that puts you in more danger than you realize. With my gift, you wouldn't have to rely on anyone to protect you. You'd have the strength to stand on your own."

Quinn's heart raced her mind at war with itself. She hated the idea of needing anyone—of relying on Deucalion or his twisted kindness. But she couldn't deny the allure of what he was offering. Strength. Independence.

"There's always a price," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "What's the catch?"

Deucalion leaned back, a pleased smile on his face. "Smart girl," he said approvingly. "The price is simple: loyalty. To me, to my cause. But let me be clear—you'd still be free to choose your path. I'm not asking for blind allegiance. I'm asking for a partnership."

Quinn's chest tightened as she weighed his words. The desire to be strong, to prove she wasn't just a liability, tugged at her fiercely. But the thought of aligning herself with someone like Deucalion felt like crossing a line she couldn't uncross.

"I need time to think," she said, her voice steady despite the chaos in her heart.

Deucalion inclined his head, his expression unreadable but his tone carrying an air of finality. "Take all the time you need," he said smoothly, his voice both a reassurance and a warning. "But remember this, Quinn: the world waits for no one. Opportunities come and go like fleeting shadows. Choose wisely."

He rose slowly from his chair, his movements deliberate and controlled, as though every step was part of a well-rehearsed performance. Quinn remained seated, her hands trembling in her lap as her mind raced with questions and fears. Deucalion's presence lingered even as he turned to leave the room, his words echoing in her ears like a haunting melody she couldn't escape.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Quinn alone with her thoughts. The room felt colder, and emptier without his imposing figure. She let out a shaky breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. Fear, anger, betrayal—each one clawed at her, vying for dominance.

Her gaze dropped to the polished surface of the table before her, and she caught sight of her own reflection. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale, her expression lost. She didn't recognize the person staring back at her.

A deep ache settled in her chest as she thought of Isaac, of Scott, of everyone who had kept her in the dark. How could they claim to care for her and yet hide something so monumental? How could they justify it?

Deucalion's words replayed in her mind, each one laced with temptation. Power. Strength. Independence. The idea of being able to stand on her own, to not need anyone else to protect her, was intoxicating. But at what cost? Could she truly trust him? Was this offer a lifeline or a trap?

Her thoughts shifted to the promises Isaac had broken, the lies he had told. It wasn't just the supernatural secrets—it was the principle. He had been her anchor, the one person she believed would never betray her. And yet, here she was, untethered and adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

And then there was Scott. Sweet, kind, dependable Scott. She could still see the way he looked at Allison, the unspoken love in his eyes. Quinn didn't begrudge him that love—it was pure and genuine, the kind of love she longed to feel for herself. But it wasn't hers to claim, and she knew it never would be.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she leaned back in her chair, her head tipping up to stare at the ceiling. "What am I even doing here?" she muttered to herself. She didn't belong in this world of monsters and power plays. She was just Quinn—a girl who had been caught in the crossfire of a war she didn't understand.

Yet, a part of her whispered, You could belong. You could be more.

The thought unsettled her, and she pushed herself to her feet, pacing the room like a caged animal. She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to release the tension coiling in her body. She didn't want to admit it, but Deucalion had struck a nerve. The idea of being strong enough to protect herself—and maybe even those she cared about—was more appealing than she wanted to acknowledge.

But then there was the cost. The loyalty he demanded. The path she would have to walk if she accepted his offer. Could she live with herself if she aligned with him, knowing the darkness he carried?

Her pacing slowed, and she came to a stop near the table, her hands gripping its edge. Her mind was a battlefield, and she was no closer to a decision than she had been when Deucalion left. All she knew was that her life, her very existence, was teetering on the edge of something she couldn't quite define.

And she wasn't sure she was ready to leap.