┏━━━━⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆━━━━┓

JUST GETTING STARTED

DEUCALION'S MESSAGE WAS CLEAR: HE WAS GOING TO KILL HANNAH.

From her place beside the woman's hospital bed, Emerson knew a decision needed to be made; though, she didn't know if she could bring herself to do anything.

The doctor responsible for administering Hannah's care told the younger girl that her aunt slipped into a coma, and the chances of her waking up was slim to none due to the minimal brain activity they were seeing. She was pale, almost ghostly so, and sometimes Emerson couldn't even see the rise and fall of her chest.

She'd never make it out alive without some sort of intervention— some sort of supernatural intervention.

There was an instant solution that came to mind, one that involved Emerson giving her guardian the bite, but Deucalion was a precise man. It wouldn't matter if she could turn Hannah and ship her away, subjecting her to a life on the run, because if Emerson didn't join him, he would make sure Hannah died in some way or another.

Werewolf or not, Hannah would die.

Part of her so desperately wanted to accept his offer just so the Prescott woman could live. In truth, had Hannah not welcomed the girl into her home, this all could've been avoided from the very beginning. The weight of the consequence was sitting on Emerson's shoulders uncomfortably.

Then again, if she so easily conceded and joined his ranks, all she had endured would be for nothing. The lives lost would be for nothing, the constant running would be for nothing. She wouldn't give up that easily, but this was Hannah.

Sitting in that damn hospital room, with subtle beeps coming from the machine hooked up to the deputy, Emerson thought she was losing her mind. Her hands were buried in her scalp, eyes trained on the woman who looked like she was asleep.

She was on high alert, hadn't slept in well over a day, and when visiting hours were over, she retreated to that damn subway station until it was fine for her to come back. She hadn't been back at the house in ages, and the only interactions she had outside of hospital staff were with Scott and Stiles just the day before.

Emerson would bite her tongue at that later, when an unknown scent had snuck up on her. The person who the scent belonged to stepped in the doorway, and had she been up to shape, she would've noticed the footsteps from down the hall.

"You are one very hard person to find."

Emerson's head snapped towards the figure, one she thought she'd just hallucinated due to the aura of nonchalance he radiated.

"Peter?"

That was invitation enough for the man to step inside the room, eyes glancing around as though he was taking in his surroundings to catalogue for later. Perhaps her confusion bled onto her face, because he was quick to offer up an explanation.

"My nephew has asked me to keep an eye on you," he offered as a response, and Emerson felt her stomach tumble a little at the mention of the man she hadn't seen in days. "You smell like death."

Her teeth barred on their own. "It's a hospital," she snapped, eyes focusing back onto the woman on the bed, "death kind of clings to fabric."

"Touché," he mumbled begrudgingly. He dared to sit in the empty seat beside her, though she was thankful he at least pulled it away so they were so close. His nose nonetheless crinkled up. "But seriously, have you not showered?"

At the thought of the house, she swallowed around nothing. "I haven't been home in a while," she said.

Peter observed her for a moment. "You haven't been at the loft either, hence why I was put on this pursuit to find you," he started, tone full of insinuation, "so, exactly where have you been?"

"I've been around," she replied with a roll of her eyes, "not that it's any of your business."

He hummed. "I think it is my business when I'm sent on a wild goose chase to find you, just because Derek hasn't heard from you."

"Well, you can report back and tell him I'm fine," she said, the words gritted through her teeth. "So if that's all, you can go. He doesn't need to worry about me."

She pointedly ignored the way Peter's inquisitive gaze was trained on the side of her face for a beat, narrowing only slightly before he seemed to settle into his seat once more.

"I'll keep you company until you can come up with a lie better than that."

ೃ࿔*:⋆

Meanwhile, at the loft, the Hale siblings were trying to fight off their unwanted visitors. Only, it wasn't working, based on the damn rod that was pierced through Derek's chest.

Honestly, it was hard paying attention to Deucalion's villainous monologue with Kali twisting the rod around and with Ennis keeping his sister at bay. This had been more than an ambush, and Derek knew it was something that had been a long time coming.

"See, the reason I'm always invested in new talent is simple: we all know a pack is strongest due to its individual parts. The stronger the individual parts, the greater the whole."

Derek, all but choking back his own blood, wanted to rip this guy's throat out— especially when he started raving about the joys of killing his former pack to assume their power.

"I took the individual parts and became a greater individual whole."

And wasn't that just riveting.

He bent down, gripped the back of the Hale man's hair and pulled his face upright. Feeling his features with his hand, he made a noncommittal sound.

"You're right, Kali; he does look like his mother," he deduced, standing once more. He took slow steps away from Derek, going to the array of windows. "You'll get to know me, Derek. Just like she did, and just like our dear Emerson soon will."

Whatever composure Derek thought he had faltered, his aching head lifting to spot the man whose heartbeat didn't make a single blip. He spoke

It dawned on him, suddenly: Derek hadn't been the first stop on Deucalion's list. No— no, he'd gone for Emerson.

Something territorial filled Derek's head, fuzzy around the edges as he felt his control wanting to slip away. Deucalion wanted them seperated, wanted them to deal with multiple issues so that he could go after them one at a time.

But just the thought of him with Emerson, the thought of him trying to persuade her to jump ship by hurting Hannah, made him choke down a snarl.

Oh, how she'd gone from this annoying girl with too much unused power to this girl he so desperately wanted to protect.

"I know you," he grunted out, the discomfort shooting through his body never ceasing for a second, but he couldn't afford to look like he was indeed worried. "I know what you are. You're a fanatic."

Deucalion turned to him. "Know me? You've never seen anything like me," he almost growled out. "I am the Alpha of Alphas. I am the apex of apex predators. I am Death, Destroyer of Worlds. I am the Demon Wolf!"

There was an eerie clap of thunder that shuddered through the entire building, though the blind man looked more than composed. Derek almost wanted to clap back, the words 'you're still a fanatic' were sitting on his very tongue, but he couldn't find it in his to say anything.

Not when Kali ripped the pole from his body in a swift motion, leaving him with a gaping hole through his body.

"We'll be in touch, Derek," he drawled on, Kali offering her arm out as they turned to leave the loft. "Oh, and if you see Emerson, do tell her I'm waiting for her answer."

When they started for the door, Cora was at his side in an instant, his body toppling to the side in exhaustion as his wound was willing itself to close. His chest heaved, and above the sound of the blood rushing through his body, he caught Deucalion saying one final thing.

"I've always preferred timeliness, but she's so like her mother in that regard."

And Derek, even in his drowsy and injured state, didn't need to be a genius to figure out what that meant.

⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆

[ wyn's note ]

back from the dead!!! hope y'all enjoyed this chappy, and tysm for 30k while ive been recovering :)

peter's like a mentor to her, and he'll never admit it but she's actually not soooo bad. LOL

you guys have all my love, thanks for bearing with me this last week xo