┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐
chapter seven!
WEREWOLF THUNDERDOME
└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

( pre-unleashed, pt. ii )

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

THE ENGINE ROARS to life, sending a thrill rushing through Vera's entire body. She grins so widely she's sure her cheeks might split in half. Her eyes close, allowing her to relish in this moment that she's been waiting so long for. A goal she'd been told over and over was never attainable, and yet she'd achieved it through her own hard work and perseverance. 

Vera has finally gotten her motorcycle.

"Sick!" Dominic cheers, holding up his phone to take pictures of her like a proud father. "You look so badass. Please run me over."

She rolls her eyes but mockingly revs the engine, causing him to jump in fright. Yesterday, she'd spent the entire afternoon walking enough dogs to finally collect enough funds to buy the bike she'd had picked out for months. She already has her motorcycle permit, so she's able to start driving right away.

Vera has wanted a motorcycle since she was little. At the age of five, she'd watched Ride with the Wind with her father and had insisted that she'd have a bike of her own someday. She had immediately been intrigued by the contraptions, fantasizing about the wind in her hair and the feeling of the open breeze. Her father hadn't believed her when she'd told him her wish for one– he'd assumed that it was just a childish fantasy that she'd forget about in a few days.

But she had never forgotten. And now that her dad's not here anymore, Vera finds herself closing her eyes and thinking, Look at me, Pai. I finally did it.

"I'm sending these in my family group chat," Dom informs her as he types away on his phone. "They're gonna be so happy for you."

Vera feels a pinch in her heart at the mention of family. The Shires have always been immensely close— Dom is the second-oldest, born three years after his sister Vanessa. Their parents had waited four years before having Grayson, and five more before the youngest, Maeve, who is eight. There's never been a moment where Vera has doubted Dom's love for his siblings. The gaps in their ages have lessened the amount of genuine fights between them, though they still have squabbles over who gets the television remote or who'd eaten the last cookie.

When Derek and Laura had fled to New York after the fire, Vera found herself longing for what Dominic and his siblings had. She'd still been stinging from the loss of Peter, Talia, Cora, and the others who had perished in the flames. Instead of being with the Hales when her mother went away on business trips, Vera was forced to spend weeks with the Shire family. They had treated her like one of their own, but she'd still felt like an outsider. They always let her have the remote and the last cookie. Vanessa braided her hair and told her all about the latest celebrities— like this new boyband called the Jonas Brothers or how Taylor Lautner from Sharkboy and Lavagirl was so cute, didn't she think?

For a while, she was jealous. Vera started off with a great family life. Her house always felt too large even for the three of them— she had no biological family in California because her tios, tias, abuelos, y primos all live in her parents' home countries of the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. She had met her mother's family several times over the course of her life, but never enough to establish a true relationship with them. But it was pretty okay because she'd had a second mother in Talia, an uncle in Peter, and siblings in Laura, Derek, and Cora.

Then, before she knew it, she was eleven years old and standing in the ashes of what she used to have. She hasn't seen her father's family since his funeral. The Hale fire had killed so many people she cared about and ruined the lives of others. Her mother left on business trip after business trip, and she was left in an empty two-story house with a cat and no idea how things could have gone so wrong so fast.

"My mom says you look awesome and to make sure you stay safe," Dom tells her, snapping her out of her thoughts with a fond smile at his phone screen. "Grayson wants you to take him for a ride, but then my mom immediately said no. Hey, do you want me to take a picture so you can send it to your mom?"

Vera blinks. For a moment, she'd forgotten about telling her own mother about this important step in her life. She loves her mom, but she can be a bit inconsistent with her texts or calls and it's easy to get used to someone being gone more often than not. She had learned to be independent long ago.

"Yeah," she says, passing him her phone and giving the camera a wide smile. Dominic takes several photos from various angles. Once she has her phone back, she sends them to her mother, who responds surprisingly quickly.

MAI: ¡Felicidades! Estoy muy orgullosa de ti. ¡Eres tan hermosa!

Vera smiles at the text. She and her mother, Ana García Díaz, speak almost exclusively in Spanish, choosing to use English only when around other native English-speakers. She vaguely remembers her father doing the same. Both of her parents had wanted to keep their first language fresh in their minds– they'd been worried that if they neglected to practice, they might forget it. When Vera was born, she was taught both languages. It feels like, no matter how far away she is from her mother, they remain connected through Spanish. It's one of the few shreds of closeness Vera has left to grasp onto.

VERA: ¡gracias, mai! te extraño

She hesitates, her thumb hovering over the send button. She then backspaces, deleting the last portion so only the thank you remains. Pressing the send button leaves an unusually hollow sensation in her chest.

"Alright," she sighs, sliding her phone into her pocket. "You ready to go?"

Vera had driven them both to pick up her bike. That way, Dominic could take her car back to her house and check on Hades while he's there. She misses her orange fuzzball more than anything. Hopefully, the Alphas will leave soon so she can go back to her cat and cuddle with him like she used to.

"Yep," Dominic replies, twirling her keys around his fingers.

Vera glares at him as he unlocks the doors and climbs into the driver's seat of her small vehicle. "Don't crash Juandissimo."

He rolls his eyes. "I almost want to just because you gave it that name. Is it seriously just because of the character from The Fairly Oddparents?"

"I'll reveal no secrets," Vera answers, sliding her red helmet onto her head.

For a moment, she wonders if it would really be so bad if she stopped by her house for just a moment. As if Derek could sense the thought running through her head, she receives a text from him.

SOURWOLF: When are you coming back?

As soon as Stiles had given him the nickname during Sophomore year, Vera had changed his contact name— it had been too perfect not to tease him about for the rest of their lives.

VEE: leaving now. why the ants in your pants?

SOURWOLF: Get into your training gear when you get back here.

VEE: goddammit.

— ✯✯✯ —

"You need to keep up with your training," Derek says to Vera with his arms crossed over his chest, both of them standing in the middle of the loft with the late afternoon sunlight painting tiger stripes on the floor as it streams through the large window. "The Alpha pack isn't going to show any restraint. I want you to practice with someone who needs the help just as much as you do, but won't pull up their punches."

Vera shifts her weight onto her opposite foot. She's dressed in a pair of black leggings, a cropped athletic top over a red sports bra, and her black sneakers— Derek had reminded her to change as soon as she'd returned from getting her bike. Now, though, she's unsure of who he could mean. Cora is out on a run around town. The only person she hates is Peter, but Derek wouldn't pit them against each other.

Realization clicks. Her eyes widen, the word, "No," falling from her lips just as a certain long-legged and curly-haired boy ambles into the main room.

"Trust me, Pérez," Isaac says with a sigh, dusting his hands on his gray sweatpants, "I don't like this any more than you do."

Vera glares at Derek, who dutifully ignores her irked expression and glances between the two of them as if they're two toddlers who won't get along. He steps back until he's standing between the support beams to her left and gives them more space.

"The rules are simple: don't kill each other."

Vera raises her eyebrows, freezing midway through tightening her ponytail. "That's it?"

"What else do you want me to say?" Derek quips back. "Have fun and be yourself?"

"Great life advice, Derek," Isaac sighs sarcastically as he tilts his neck to the side and cracks it. Other than his sweatpants, he's dressed simply in a navy blue t-shirt and black sneakers.

The Alpha huffs. "Just don't kill each other and you'll be fine."

He fully steps out of their way. Vera stands near the full-length window, knees slightly bent to move at a moment's notice. Isaac is on the opposite side of the room. He growls, flicking his hands out on either side of him so his claws extend. An animalistic roar reveals rows of razor-sharp incisors and fangs built to tear flesh apart. It should scare her, but all it does is send a burst of excitement traveling through her body.

She makes the first move. Vera charges, sprinting at top speed toward the half-transformed werewolf. Isaac bends his knees for added leverage as he swipes out with a claw that grazes the air so close to Vera's cheek that she feels the wind blow past her face. Her first thought is, Oh shit. He really isn't pulling his punches.

She uses her short stature to her advantage and ducks out of the way of his nails. However, Isaac's speed allows him to grab her around her middle as if he's going to throw her or slam her to the ground. Before he can successfully complete the action, she swings her legs upward and hooks her ankles around his neck, flipping him onto the floor while she lands on her feet. She barely feels the sting of the landing through her smug satisfaction at seeing Isaac struggling to regain his balance.

Then an idea hits her. She isn't seven years old anymore, training with wolves while fully human. Isaac has his claws and fangs, but she has her own abilities that can definitely be used to her advantage.

Vera smirks and allows herself to become transparent while Isaac's back is still facing her. He whirls around a second later, releasing a wolfish growl of frustration, only to pause when he doesn't find her directly behind him as he'd expected. He sweeps his gaze in a circle, checking his blind spots. Derek raises his eyebrows at him from the sidelines as if to say, "Connect the dots, Isaac."

Vera keeps her footsteps as silent as possible as she creeps around to approach Isaac from his most unprotected position: his back. She quietly bounds toward him in long strides, preparing to strike the vulnerable pressure point on his neck that will knock him out.

In her excitement and through the adrenaline rush sending fire through her veins, she doesn't realize how easy it seems. Too easy. Isaac is standing completely still, claws still extended at his sides, but seemingly searching for her in front of him.

A victorious grin starts to quirk up her lip as she reaches up to bestow the knockout blow. Just as quickly, Isaac whirls around and slashes downward with his claws, raking three of them a few inches down her forearm. Vera stumbles back both in shock and agony. As her concentration breaks, she becomes visible again, instinctively clutching her bleeding arm with a hiss.

He hadn't been waiting at all. Rather, he must have been using his other senses to locate her— maybe by the sound of her heart hammering against her chest, or the pants bursting from her lips, or by the scent of her sweat. She hadn't been difficult enough to find despite her invisibility.

"Fuck," she curses beneath her breath. It burns. Her forearm feels like it's on fire, rivers of crimson blood only serving as gasoline to the flames. She barely has time to acknowledge the pain before she has to duck out of his swinging grasp again, releasing her grip on her injured arm so she doesn't lose her balance in the process.

Sweat dots Vera's hairline and causes the flyaway hairs from her ponytail to stick to her temples. Her chest is heaving from the exertion she's put on her body, but Isaac seems totally unbothered. Damn those werewolves and their stamina.

Let's try this again, she thinks to herself, disappearing from view once again. This time, however, she attempts full invisibility along with complete physical transparency. It makes her head spin. Though she's been practicing this trick for months, it takes immense concentration and it doesn't help that she's already tired and injured.

Her heart pounds. It gives away her location to Isaac, who lunges toward the spot he can tell she's standing in. He merely phases right through her and stumbles due to his momentum. Vera wastes no time in lifting her sneaker-clad foot and connecting it with his spine before he can retaliate. His arms circle wildly in a futile attempt at regaining his balance, making him flail like a fish out of water before he lands hard on his stomach.

He rolls onto his back almost instantly. Unluckily for him, Vera is already there, crawling on top of him so her legs are on either side of his abdomen, knees pinning his claws down. He grimaces as the sharp bones of her kneecaps dig directly into the backs of his hands when she applies her weight on them. His teeth snap at her, but before he can do any damage, she leans her arm forward and places an elbow against the base of his throat.

Vera can see his amber eyes darting around her face as his brain wracks itself for a possible escape method. When he attempts to wriggle his hands beneath her knees, she merely smirks and presses her elbow more firmly into his throat– not enough to actually choke him, but enough to remind him that she easily could. A moment later, his irises freeze back to their normal, icy blue. He lifts his foot and hits it twice against the floor as a sign he relents.

She extends the elbow she'd held against his neck and places her hand beside his head, giving her the leverage necessary for removing her knees from his hands. Isaac winces as he flexes his fingers and sinks his claws back into his fingertips. Vera gets to her feet with a sharp inhale at the fiery agony still blazing through the three four-inch-long claw marks raking down the back of her forearm. Luckily, the cuts are shallow so she won't need stitches. Unluckily, it doesn't stop them from hurting like a puta madre.

"Yeah, you both definitely need the extra help," Derek chimes in as Isaac pushes himself to his feet. He and Vera shoot him glares, to which he shrugs matter-of-factly. "I would have you go again, but Vera, you should patch yourself up. You okay?"

She nods. "Fine." Her left palm is bloody from gripping the gashes in an attempt to stop the blood flow that's dangerously close to rolling down her arm and onto Derek's floor. Not wishing to have to scrub her own blood off of the wood, she turns toward the bathroom that's across the hall from her and Isaac's rooms. "Be right back."

Her teeth grit together when she reaches the room and bends down to retrieve the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink. The bathroom is as modest as the rest of the loft. The sink is lined by a countertop that's made of chipping laminate, colored a bland gray that matches the vibe given off by the rest of the room. The shower curtain is also gray, as well as the bath mat that's positioned directly outside of the tub. One of the lightbulbs is out. The lack of windows results in a dim glow that doesn't make seeing the contents of the first aid kit easy.

Vera manages to grab a few bandages and hydrogen peroxide. She runs her arm under the tap, washing the excess blood away and patting it dry with a towel that she tosses aside afterward. Derek is a master at removing blood stains from fabric by now— he won't mind that she'd used it.

She turns in confusion when she doesn't hear the towel hit the floor. Instead, she finds Isaac clutching it in both hands as he stands in the doorway, swallowing once her perplexed gaze lands on him.

"Uh, I — I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," he says, motioning to the gashes on her arm. "For that."

Vera shrugs. "All's fair in sparring with a werewolf."

He watches her curse when her blood starts to well over the cuts again, extending a hand toward him as a signal she wants the towel. Isaac walks forward and places it in her palm. She wipes at the red gashes  with a concentrated frown, her injured arm trembling and making it more difficult for her to work.

"Let me help."

Vera turns to Isaac in surprise. His gaze is still locked on the cuts, but then he flickers his eyes to hers. She hadn't expected him to offer anything. The Isaac she's used to would have likely made a snide comment about her being too slow. Maybe he feels bad about what he'd said the night of the full moon?

She finds his stare too intense for her liking and tears her eyes away. "I'm fine, Lahey. This isn't the worst thing I've had to deal with."

"It's my fault, so it's the least I could do," he presses. "Plus, the more you stand here arguing with me about it, the more you're just gonna bleed."

Vera sighs. He's right. Though she'd just wiped the injury yet again, it's already beginning to bleed because she'd been too distracted by his presence to apply pressure.

She turns around so her back is facing the counter, lifting herself on top of it so she can better accommodate his height. "Fine."

Isaac walks further into the room and doesn't stop until he's caged between her knees. The unexpected close proximity nearly makes Vera's breath hitch in surprise, though she luckily prevents that from happening because he surely would have heard it. He lifts her wounded forearm with more gentleness she ever would have thought possible and takes the towel from her hand. The motions he uses to soak up the blood are borderline tender.

"I'm also sorry for what I said about the plan not working at the school," Isaac says, surprising Vera again, who had been wholly focused on his actions. "Being positive isn't exactly my default. I shouldn't have said anything."

"It was pretty shitty," Vera agrees in a half-joking tone to disguise the stinging pain that's nearly making her eyes water. "I get it, though. It wasn't right, but when few good things have happened to you, it gets harder to see the positive in anything."

She knows the feeling. After her father's murder, both she and her mother went to therapy, where Vera was diagnosed with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder and depression at her young age. The Hale house fire only made things worse. For a long time, she struggled to see anything good in the world. How can you when said world keeps knocking you down right after you get back up again?

"I'm going to work on it," Isaac informs her as he finally finishes wiping the blood off of the scratches. "Like... I lost to you, but at least I learned from it."

Vera nods. "That was an improvement."

"But next time, I'm kicking your ass."

She raises her eyebrows, a challenging smirk pulling up her lips. "We'll see about that."

Isaac mirrors her smirk for a moment before it melts back into his expression of concentration. Her heart instinctively begins to race when he picks up the brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide and angles her arm over the sink. Time seems to slow as he unscrews the cap, dread pooling in Vera's stomach and clenching it into knots as he pours the clear liquid onto the wounds. Her body's first instinct is to yank her arm away as the alcohol scorches her nerves and makes her eyes slam shut. However, Isaac holds her arm firmly in his strong grip, forcing her to stay put.

A moment later, the pain ebbs away. Vera peels her eyes open to see the veins of his right arm filled with black as he takes her agony. His teeth grit together, pronouncing the veins in his neck, though he makes no other outward sign of discomfort. He only pours the solution on her arm for a second longer before setting the bottle on the opposite side of the sink and grabbing the bandages she'd gotten out of the kit.

Vera notices that he does all of this without thinking, almost like he's going through the motions by muscle memory alone. She switches her gaze from his work to his face. Isaac's brows are furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted as he sticks the bandages on her arm with practiced efficiency. The sharp lines of his jaw are accentuated by the broken fragments of lighting scattered across the room. Then she realizes that he has gone through these steps countless times. All those years he'd endured abuse at the hands of his father... he must have had to quickly learn how to care for his own bumps and bruises.

"There," he mutters, smoothing the last bandage down. He glances at her face before she can tear her gaze away. Brown meets blue as their eyes lock. She becomes abruptly, painfully aware of their close proximity, of his feather-light touch on her wrist because he still hasn't let go.

And, damn her — damn her to hell — Vera's heart begins to pound. There's no mistaking that he can hear it, judging by how his eyebrow quirks upward in the slightest and the corner of his lips tugs into a smirk for a fraction of a second. This is the most eye contact she's ever had with him. Up close, she can finally see how mesmerizing their color is— a bright azure intensified by his navy shirt. He only breaks her stare when he flickers his gaze to her mouth. It lasts for a second — maybe a millisecond — but it's enough to make her blood roar in her ears. She catches the way the muscles of his throat move when he swallows thickly, her lips parting to do what, she doesn't know.

"Vera!" Derek's voice calls from the main room of the loft, jarring her so much that she jumps.  "You okay?"

Isaac is still close enough that it takes her a second to find her voice. "Yeah! Just give me a second."

As if snapping out of a trance, the taller boy clears his throat and steps back so Vera can hop down from the counter. She forces her hands not to tremble as she hastily shoves the contents of the first-aid kit back into the box. She needs to get away from him. Every particle of her body is acutely aware that he's still close enough to touch, the lingering ghost of his skin against her wrist making her shudder.

Vera shoves the first aid kit into the cabinet and exits the bathroom without sparing Isaac a second glance.

_________

a/n:

isaac being pinned under vera after she won like:

i've had that second half of the chapter in my notes for this story for MONTHS, so finally being able to write it and publish it was so exciting to me. it's insanely hard to choreograph a fight scene between two supernatural creatures who aren't actually trying to kill each other, so forgive me if the actual fight was kinda lame.

also, since i am not a native spanish speaker, PLEASE correct me on any mistakes i make, either with the grammar in the actual spanish words or the culture. i try to do as much research as i can to make things as accurate as possible, but i'm not perfect. i'm also taking a spanish class again for the first time in years (and my professor is actually GOOD this time) so i should be much better with spanish than i used to be (theo's dialogue in different makes me cry and i need to fix it asap)

i'm thinking of changing the title of this book, too. what do you think about "mostly ghostly"? the 2008 movie with madison pettis was my favorite when i was younger, and also RL stine was one of my favorite authors, so that's where i got the inspiration from. plus it would fit really well with vera's powers even if she isn't technically a "ghost"! what do you guys think?

—kristyn

TRANSLATIONS:

Pai: Dad (used in Dominican Republic & Puerto Rico)

Tios, tias, abuelos, y primos: Aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins

¡Felicidades! Estoy muy orgullosa de ti. ¡Eres tan hermosa!: Congratulations! I am so proud of you. You are so beautiful!

¡Gracias, mai! Te extraño: Thank you, mom! I miss you

Puta madre: Mother fucker

( word count: 4.3k )