┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐
chapter nine!
WAGING WAR
└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

( unleashed, pt. ii )

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

THE FIRST PERSON that Vera sees after emerging from the locker room, freshly-changed into a black and white button-up blouse tucked into her ripped jeans, is Boyd. She has to do a double-take at first to make sure it's him. After a closer look, she determines that the vacant, half-bored expression on the dark-skinned boy's face couldn't belong to anyone else.

The hallways are starting to fill up with students the closer the clock ticks toward the warning bell, so she has to squeeze between people in order to reach him.

"Boyd!" she calls, catching his attention and causing his ears to twitch. He turns around, sweeping his brown-eyed gaze over the hallway, before realizing it's Vera and looking down at her. He's even taller than Isaac— it leaves Vera's line of sight at the bottom of his sternum. She has to crane her neck to make eye contact with him as she continues, "I didn't know you were coming back to school today."

"Yeah, I don't exactly have a phone anymore," Boyd replies in the same disinterested tone he always seems to have. "Since, you know, I was kidnapped."

"Right," Vera responds with a nod, unsure of how he wants her to respond to that. "Well, I'm glad you're back. Have you seen Isaac? I'm trying to stop him from murdering the twins in broad daylight on school grounds."

The boy manages a partial laugh that's more like a huff through his nose, running a hand over his closely-shaved head of hair before gripping onto the straps of his backpack. "I haven't seen him, but I can't say that if I saw him beating the shit out of them in the hallway, I would stop him. I gotta go— I'm visiting Kyle Weigen's locker before first period."

"Kyle?" Vera questions as she creases her brow. "The boy who... you know..."

Boyd nods, all traces of amusement having vanished from his face. "Yeah. We were in Junior R.O.T.C together."

She feels a surge of sympathy for her pack member. Boyd has been through an indescribable amount of pain and trauma in the past year. He's a fairly private person who prefers to keep his emotions masked behind a wall of indifference and large muscles, but it must be taking a toll on him. Nobody is an outcast, gets turned into a werewolf, is captured and nearly killed by hunters, captured and nearly killed by Alphas, endures a pack member's death, returns home, loses another person in their life, and walks away from it unscathed.

Vera reaches up to pat him on the shoulder, then realizes she's too short to do so without standing on her toes and decides to aim for his forearm instead. He seems confused by the display of comfort but also grateful for it. Some of the tension in his shoulders fades away as she draws her hand back to her side. Even though Boyd doesn't prefer to share his private life with her, they've always gotten along.

"I know you don't really like to talk about personal stuff, but if you need anything, just let me know," she tells him. "We're pack members— we've got each other's backs, okay?"

Boyd hesitates, appearing as if he's going to reject her offer with a white lie that he's fine, but seems to change his mind halfway through and nods instead. The action starts off slow but eventually progresses into a smooth motion of acceptance. "Alright. Thanks, Vera."

She gives him a small, closed-lipped grin. "No problem."

Vera pats him on the arm again before retreating down the hallway toward her locker. She needs to grab her books for English before class starts, which means it'll be a miracle if she manages to make it to class on time.

She doesn't realize until she sits down that she'd forgotten to take her Adderall again. The result is her leg bouncing throughout the entire class, Miss Blake calling her out for blatantly staring out the window twice, and feeling the burning desire to check her phone scorching her insides. It's not like she expects Isaac to text her something like, Hey, just letting you know that I'm about to create an indent in Aiden's face in the computer lab, but being cut off from the rest of the school and stuck in the classroom is making her more restless than usual. Lydia has warily side-eyed her bouncing leg three times already.

When Vera turns her phone back on after class, she finds no new messages except for Dominic complaining that he's already hungry. She puffs a frustrated sigh through her mouth and rakes a hand through her hair. The not-knowing is the worst part. If she had the same supernatural abilities as the wolves, she'd probably be able to hear what's going on around the school.

"I don't think Isaac's stupid enough to try something here," Allison says in an attempt to cheer her up. She leans against the locker beside Vera's, exhaustion lining her honey-brown eyes and an acute lack of her usual smile on her face. Since her next class is French and it's close to Vera's locker, they've been meeting here every day to chat while Vera grabs her supplies for Algebra II.

"You don't know Isaac very well then," Vera half-laughs in reply. If Allison thinks that something as small as school or a public setting will hinder him from getting himself into trouble, she's sorely mistaken.

"I guess you're right," she agrees with a frown, then pauses. "And you do?"

"He's in my pack, Allison," Vera says, closing her locker with a groan of metal and snapping the combination lock. "I know more about him than I'd like to. Some of it's gut instinct. Sometimes Derek talks. But about this... something doesn't feel right. I started getting a stomach ache during English. It's like my body's telling me things."

"I think you're just worried," the short-haired brunette says. "Hopefully it'll go away soon."

Vera twists her mouth to the side and places a hand on her churning stomach. "Yeah, I hope so." The warning bell cuts through the hallway, causing the idle students to start rushing in the direction of their next class. "See you at lunch."

"See you."

The girls part ways. The Math and Science classes are placed near each other, and since Vera's locker is closer to the English and Foreign Language departments, she has to head up the stairs and then some in order to reach her Algebra II classroom. She probably should have left sooner, but talking to Allison always results in a sensation of peace within her. It's been especially lacking since she's been so busy with pack affairs recently.

In the end, she reaches Mr. Peterson's room with thirty seconds to spare. Most of the students are already in their seats. Lydia shoots her an incredulous expression when she plops into her seat unceremoniously. Since their teacher encourages students to seek help from each other during classwork, the two had agreed to sit next to each other.

"Did you do the homework?" Lydia asks in a hushed whisper.

Vera freezes, retraces her steps from the night before, and heaves a sigh that makes the strawberry blonde's shoulders deflate in disappointment. "I forgot we had any."

"If you hurry, you can copy mine before Peterson comes around and checks."

Vera squeaks a grateful, "Thank you," and allows Lydia to slip her notebook onto her desk. She copies the questions onto a blank page in her own notebook, her hand moving so fast that her pointy, jagged handwriting is almost indecipherable.

"Today we will be continuing our review of quadratic functions and starting to segway into new material," Mr. Peterson, a balding man with pale skin in his late 50's, announces. "While you complete the bellwork on the board, I will be coming around to check that you did last night's homework."

Vera's heart pounds as she continues to scribble away. Lydia's green eyes anxiously dart to her work, silently urging her to hurry up before they get caught. Vera is in the third row while Lydia is in the second. They're both seated toward the middle, so she still has precious seconds before Mr. Peterson pays them any mind.

She finishes with her hand aching and copied homework looking horrible. Without anyone noticing, she slips Lydia her notebook back and rotates her wrist before nonchalantly starting on the bellwork.

The ache in Vera's stomach doesn't lessen as Mr. Peterson begins his lecture (after giving Vera an unimpressed look due to her messy work). In fact, the knots only seem to worsen, tangling her guts together until she's stuck with a grimace on her face and a hand instinctively pressed to her midsection. It doesn't feel like worry anymore. She's certain that something is going to go horribly wrong today, or maybe it already has.

In the middle of learning about the discriminant, her phone buzzes with a text that fills her veins with icy dread.

SCOOT: please tell your teacher you have to use the bathroom. isaac just left physics to go after the twins and harris' rule is one student out of class at a time. hurry!!!

Vera's hand shoots up without a second thought. Mr. Peterson glances up from his work, surprised to see her hand raised, and straightens. "Yes, Vera?"

"Can I go to the bathroom?" she asks, wincing at the fact that she doesn't have a more serious question to ask.

Mr. Peterson sighs. "You know the rules— no leaving the classroom during my lecture."

Vera lowers her hand with a resigned expression. Then, an idea springs to her mind and the words, "I bled through my tampon," are leaving her mouth before she can stop them. She barely registers her teacher's bewilderment and Lydia's puzzled glance before she stands up and sprints out of the classroom without another word.

She closes the door behind her and turns in the direction of Harris' classroom. As she gets closer to the end of the hallway, her ears pick up the distinct sound of a fist-fight. Her heartbeat accelerates to a rapid-fire pace as she turns her walking to a jog at the sound of a pained grunt, rounding the corner until she can catch the culprits in action.

Except she doesn't find what she expects to see. Ethan's face and mouth are coated in ruby-red blood that's glistening on the white floor tiles, but instead of Isaac being the aggressor, it's Aiden. All Isaac is doing is watching the smackdown with widened eyes, unsure of what to do.

As Aiden cradles Ethan's head and then slams it into the row of lockers beside them, she catches a flash of the triumphant expression on Ethan's face where there should be pain. It clicks in Vera's mind. Nobody will believe that Aiden beat up his own twin. With Isaac's history of aggression, it'll be way too easy to pin this on him.

Vera waves her arms above her head in a desperate attempt to gain Isaac's attention without attracting that of the twins. He merely switches his incredulous expression from the boys to her, not catching onto what she means by her dramatically motioning down the hallway she came from.

"Goddammit, Lahey," Vera curses beneath her breath. The other end of the hall also branches off in a T-shaped fashion, so that means there are two other means of escape. She doesn't give herself time to think before sprinting past the rows of lockers and closed doors of classrooms. Eventually, she reaches Isaac and grabs onto his hand, using her momentum to drag him a couple of steps along with her even in his state of perplexity.

"Woah, what—"

"You idiot, just follow m—"

They're cut off by the sound of Mr. Harris' door opening and the man himself rushing into the hallway, narrow eyes widening at the sight of blood trailing from Ethan's mouth and splattered onto the floor. Vera freezes in her tracks and causes Isaac to bump into her. Her panicked expression is likely to scream guilt to the unsuspecting eye.

"What is this?" Harris demands, alarmed gaze shifting from Ethan's position on the ground to Isaac and Vera mid-step, hands entwined.

"What's going on? You alright?" Danny questions the injured twin, crouching down and helping him into an upright position. The concern in his voice makes Vera's brow furrow.

"Uh, he just— he just came at me," Ethan lies with his face twisted in a cringe of pain. Aiden had gotten him good— there's an ugly gash on his left cheekbone that's leaking crimson, which also pours from the corner of his mouth.

"Isaac, what the hell did you do?" Harris fires out. "And you, Vera? Did you just think you could help him get away with it? See me for lunchtime detention— both of you."

Vera's terrified expression morphs into one of annoyance, then acceptance. She glances down at her and Isaac's still-entwined hands. When he mirrors her action, he realizes their position and drops her hand, ticking his jaw in irritation as he watches Aiden's retreating figure disappear around the corner at the end of the hallway.

She glances up at the rest of the class that had spilled out into the hall due to the commotion. Some of the kids are giving her dirty looks, whispers already transferring between students. But the person she notices most of all is Scott. Anger flashes across his face, dark eyebrows narrowed in rage and jaw tight as he regards the situation. His Adam's Apple bops as he swallows thickly. It takes a lot to make Scott angry; his innate goodness sometimes causes him to give people one too many second chances. His rising rage is likely to break soon if the twins keep doing this.

And Vera can't wait to see what will happen when it breaks.

— ✯✯✯ —

Vera taps her fingers impatiently against the desk in Harris' classroom, watching the devil himself staring judgmentally at the ten students seated anxiously in front of him. Harris has always had the smug expression that makes his long face so unbelievably punchable. Now, as he peers at them through his rectangular-framed glasses as if he can't wait to individually pick out their flaws and assign them tasks based on them, she feels her loathing churn her already-aching stomach.

Allison is seated placidly beside her with Isaac in the first row in front of the girls. Vera had been surprised to walk in and find her there. When she first arrived in Beacon Hills in January, Allison had been the golden girl who could scarcely do anything wrong academically. It had made more sense when she explained she had fallen asleep in French class.

"Vera, if you don't stop tapping your fingers against that desk, I will slice them off with my paper cutter," Harris threatens, his nonchalant voice cutting through the otherwise silent classroom and causing every head to turn toward her. Vera's jaw tenses in annoyance. However, her fingers curl into a fist that she obediently rests in her lap. She's fairly certain that threats like that can get him fired, but since the school is already so short-staffed and Harris teaches three subjects, the administration probably won't care.

Pleased with the fact that the room is quiet once again, Harris crosses to the opposite side of the room and reveals the words LUNCHTIME DETENTION scrawled across his chalkboard as if the students didn't already know where they were. He's likely trying to rub it in their faces as much as possible that they're despicable children.

He points to a pair of students in the first row closest to the door. "The two of you will wash all the boards in this hall. Reshelving the library." He pauses, noticing that Allison and Vera are friends and, since he wants them to suffer as much as possible, he can't allow them to work together. "Vera, you'll clean the trophies in the case with Jordan." Finally, his gaze lands on the remaining two students. "Restocking the janitor's closet."

Isaac turns around and locks eyes with Allison, who drops the pencil she'd been absentmindedly fiddling with and catches it just before it clatters onto the desk. He momentarily shifts his gaze to Vera, who raises an eyebrow at him as if to say, You took the bait. You deal with the consequences.

"Uh, Mr. Harris?" he says, standing up and walking closer toward the teacher. He lowers his voice to a whisper that would be indistinguishable to Vera if Harris hadn't decided to embarrass him by announcing his qualms to the entire group.

"Now that I know you prefer not to... yes, you have to be with her."

Isaac turns away with a huff through his nose. It's true that he and Allison share bad blood— the two hadn't gotten off to the best start last year due to Gerard's manipulation that had nearly rendered Allison unrecognizable. The last time they were in the same space, she'd stabbed him in the back. Literally. In fact, it had been that same night when Jackson had slashed her stomach with his claws—

"Vee?"

Vera blinks to see Allison watching her expectantly, more concern on her face than annoyance at having to work with Isaac. Her eyebrows are creased with worry upon seeing the way Vera's eyes had glazed over. The flashbacks had whisked her away from the present for a moment. "I think that girl's trying to get your attention."

Vera notices a girl who appears younger than her — a sophomore, maybe — watching her shyly. The other students have already started to head to their respective assigned jobs.

"Oh." She pushes herself to her feet, her chair scraping against the tile. "Sorry. Yeah, let's go."

As she walks toward where Harris is standing with rags and a bottle of cleaning spray, she passes Isaac. He shoots her a look that says, Help me. She gives him one back that rejects the plea for assistance and takes the cleaning supplies from the devil in disguise, passing one of the rags to Jordan and heading out of the classroom without another word.

The trophy cabinet is on the first floor of the school, so the walk from Harris' classroom ends up being lengthy and filled with absolute silence. Jordan doesn't seem very keen on striking up a conversation. She attempts to hide behind a head of tightly-coiled curls that are half held out of her face with a multicolored headband. Her brightly-colored tie-dye shirt serves as a contrast to her dark skin. She's taller than Vera by a decent amount, but it's as if she's trying to make herself seem smaller and unnoticeable.

"I'm Vera," Vera says in an effort to make the younger girl feel more comfortable. "Are you a sophomore?"

Jordan nods, keeping her lips tightly pursed together as they walk further down the hall toward the set of stairs. She doesn't offer any other information or ask Vera more about herself, so Vera decides to drop the conversation. She doesn't want to push Jordan's boundaries if she doesn't want to talk to a stranger.

Once they reach the trophy cabinet, Jordan takes a set of keys from Harris out of the pocket of her jeans and unlocks the glass case. Both girls take a moment to stare at the trophies inside. They're all covered in a decent layer of dust, meaning it'll take them a while to complete this task. It seems pointless– everyone walks straight past the trophy case without looking at it. Aside from the occasional jock who likes to admire his 2010 State Basketball Championship trophy from time to time, the entire cabinet mostly goes ignored.

"This is the dumbest job ever," Vera grumbles. Jordan gives a nod of agreement with a small smile on her face.

They get to work, using their rags and cans of cleaning spray to wipe the dust off of the trophies. There aren't that many. Though the school had opened in 1941, the only sport that they've ever been exceptionally good at is lacrosse. Most of the awards they've won are for that, swimming, or basketball. Vera discovers an old women's soccer trophy from the nineties and a single baseball one from 2005. Other than that, the representation of other sports is minimal.

It's silent, something that Vera's hyperactive nerves can't handle without seeking some form of entertainment to distract her from her tedious tasks. Her mind ventures to Erica. It's been strange not seeing her in the halls or in pack meetings. Every girl with blonde curls makes Vera's heart leap until she remembers it can't possibly be her. She still feels the loss– the strange displacement of a lost pack member that makes her feel incomplete. It's as if someone had chopped off her arm and expected her to function as she normally would.

She makes a mental note to check up on Boyd again after school. He and Erica had been the closest with each other, and the time he'd spent in the bank vault must have been extremely traumatic. She doesn't expect him to confide in her, but she still wants to reiterate that she's there for him. None of them should have to go through this alone.

"ISAAC!"

The roar jolts Vera out of her stupor, startling her so intensely that the can of cleaning spray slips from her grasp and clatters to the tile below. The echo of it smacking onto the ground reverberates down the empty hall. Both Vera and Jordan whirl toward the direction it had come from, eyes wide and mouths agape.

Trepidation floods Vera's veins, making her arms heavy at her sides and her legs feel like thirty-pound weights. The can stays forgotten at her feet. Her mind has brought her senses to high alert, causing her heart to pound in fear of what Scott's roar could have meant.

She turns toward Jordan, whose panicked brown eyes flicker to her at the movement. "I'm so sorry, but I have to see what that was about. I'll be right back."

Vera turns and jogs down the hallway toward the janitor's closet, which is on the opposite side of the school. She waits until she rounds the corner and is out of Jordan's sight before breaking into a full-on sprint through the corridors. Her white sneakers slap against the linoleum tile, creating a steady metronome that matches her controlled breaths. It seems like the morning's practice run had been preparation for what was to come.

She slows to a stop once she reaches the tiny room in an alcove of the hall, forehead wrinkling in confusion and concern as the surveys the scene. Allison stands in front of the open door with her hand clamped over her wrist. Blood drips from two gashes on her forearm, frazzled breaths escaping her lips and body tense with apprehension. Scott is in front of her. Vera realizes that he has placed himself between Allison and Isaac, who sits against the opposite wall with his knees drawn up to his chest, uneven pants bursting from his mouth and hands trembling.

"What happened?" Vera asks.

Allison swallows, directing her gaze toward something past Vera. She turns around to see a vending machine tipped over on its side, the glass shattered and contents sprawled onto the floor. Chips and candy bars lie everywhere. It takes her a moment to connect the dots. The janitor's closet is tiny. The twins must have known that Isaac would be in there with Allison, so they'd shoved the machine against the door and blocked his only means of escape.

Isaac's guilt-filled voice shakes as he says, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's not his fault," Allison states firmly.

"I know," Scott replies, casting a glance down at the boy, who rakes a still-trembling hand through his curls. "I guess now we know they want to do more than get you angry. They want to get someone hurt."

Isaac glances up at Vera as if he'd just noticed her presence. He rests his elbows against his knees, an action that makes her realize that his gray cardigan is missing. She glances into the closet and notices it lying in a heap on the floor. It dawns on her– excessive sweating is a symptom of an anxiety or panic attack. He'd had to remove it in order to keep his head clear while he tried to escape the situation.

"So are we gonna do something?" he asks, his voice much more even than it had been before.

"Yeah," Scott confirms. His expression darkens with determination, his urge to protect his friends overpowering his belief in peace. "I'm gonna get them angry– really angry."

"Do you have any ideas?" Vera questions as she casts a wary glance back down at Isaac.

Scott's brow furrows for a moment as he contemplates his options. Then, a small smile pulls up the corner of his lip when an idea strikes him. He straightens up and looks between the two girls present. "Do either of you know how to hotwire a motorcycle?"

Allison and Vera share a glance of slight surprise. Vera can admit she hadn't seen that question coming from him. She does – when she'd researched motorcycles prior to getting hers, she'd read that the keys are frequently misplaced and hotwiring is as simple as an internet search. She figured it would be a valuable skill to learn since Derek had already taught her how to hotwire a car. There's still one problem...

"We don't have any tools," she responds.

Allison tilts her head to the side, her eyes squinting as she considers something. "Um, I may have some in my car."

Vera points to her. "There we go."

"What, uh... " Isaac trails off for a moment, running his thumbs over the backs of his hands. "What exactly is your plan, Scott?"

"They got you two detention," he answers, referring to Isaac and Vera. "We're going to do something to get them suspended. Vera, how comfortable would you be riding Aiden's motorcycle through the hallways?"

She blinks in response, not used to this mischievous side of Scott. "Well, I mean... "

"I can do it."

All three of their heads turn down to look at Isaac, who stares back with resolve. "I don't think it's a good idea to have her piss Aiden off given her family history. They could retaliate even more if they're off school grounds."

Vera is shocked that he's offering to do this. She isn't sure if it's because he'd heard the apprehension in her tone or because he wants to see the look on Aiden's face himself, but being helpful usually isn't his style. Then again, he had patched up her arm after their training session, a wound which is now pretty much gone. The irony is that Allison's new gashes are in the same spot on the opposite arm.

Instead of letting her surprise show, though, she deflects by tilting her head to the side and asking, "Have you ever driven a motorcycle before, Lahey?"

"No, but how hard can it be?" he responds with a challenging glint in his eyes. Nearly all of the fear has washed out of them, leaving his body less rigid than it had been when she arrived. He seems more like himself again.

"Alright." Scott nods. "Cool. Meet outside before last period, okay?"

Vera nods, her lip quirking upward in a small grin of excitement. She honestly can't wait to see the twins' reactions. Hopefully, it'll teach them a lesson that if you mess with one of them, you'll get burned twice as badly.

She spends the rest of lunch detention and fifth period – art – brimming with excitement and nerves for what they're going to pull off. There are many ways their plan could go wrong. A teacher could find Isaac before Aiden does and he'll be the one getting suspended. Or maybe Aiden will be smart enough not to accept the bait.

Isaac shares the class with her, and his reaction toward the upcoming stunt is a perfect contrast to hers. He appears totally at ease. He continues painting without a care in the world, his face free of worried wrinkles and posture loose.

The fear and worry only make the pain in her stomach intensify until the cringe on her face is near-constant. Her teacher asks her if she's okay multiple times and even suggests she go to the nurse's office, but Vera waves off her concern. She only has a few hours to go before she can go back to Derek's and curl up on his sofa.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of the class, Vera races to put away her half-finished impressionist piece and doesn't even bother to wash the dried paint off of her hands. Her teacher watches her in concern at her haste. Vera doesn't have time to appreciate the kindness– they have to get this to work before last period starts.

Allison and Scott are already outside in the front spot of the parking lot where the motorbikes are parked. Vera recognizes her own beside Scott's green dirt bike. The other two must belong to the twins'.

"Alright, this one's Aiden's. That one's Ethan's," Scott informs them as he points to the respective bikes. "I was thinking we dismantle parts of Ethan's bike and I can show them in class, then hotwire Aiden's."

"Who knew you could be so devious?" Vera muses. She glances down at the bag of tools near Allison's feet. "What do you have, Allison?"

She picks it up. "A lot of stuff. It should be everything we need– wrenches, screwdrivers, wires, tape. Am I missing anything?"

Vera shrugs. "I guess we'll figure it out when we get to work. I've got Ethan's bike."

Allison tosses her a screwdriver and a small wrench, then rushes to retrieve her own necessary tools from the bag. Vera crouches beside the glossy bike. It's beautiful. Under any other circumstances, she would feel guilty about dismantling such a nice bike, but these are the Alpha twins'. It has come down to a game of them or us. Vera prefers for it to be them.

She gets to work opening one of the nearest hatches with the screwdriver. Inside, she finds a set of gear forks that look pretty important for riding one's motorcycle. Her teeth grit together in determination as she uses the wrench to loosen a couple, then slides them out and hands them to Scott.

"Thanks," he says as he slips the gears into his backpack. "I'm gonna go to class and then show them these. Make sure you're on the bike in three minutes, Isaac."

Isaac nods in understanding. Scott turns and jogs back into the school, shouldering his backpack once more and disappearing through the double doors of the entrance. Once he's gone, Vera turns toward Allison to see her disconnecting the bike's ignition circuit.

"Need help?"

"No, thanks," Allison replies, brow wrinkled in concentration as she works on connecting the ignition terminals. "I've got it."

Isaac impatiently shifts from foot to foot, arms crossed and mouth pulled into a frown. "How long is this gonna take?"

In response, Allison reaches up and turns on the ignition, causing the bike to rev to life. Isaac gives an excited grin before climbing on– they have to hurry if they want to be in the hallways before the twins try to hurt Scott instead.

"Pull back with your left hand," Allison instructs. "Kick down to put in gear. Front brake. Throttle. Back brake for stopping." She gives him a small grin that looks more like the girl that Vera's used to. "Try not to crash."

"Yeah." Isaac nods. "Been there, done that." He squints into the sunlight as he regards Vera from where she stands on the opposite side of the motorcycle, tapping her foot. "Any sage words of advice, Pérez?"

She gives him a falsely sweet smile. "Don't get caught. Now pose– I'm sending a picture to Scott so he knows we're ready."

The girls step back to get out of the frame as Vera holds up her phone. Isaac stares at the camera with a movie poster-style smolder that makes her roll her eyes as she snaps the photo, immediately forwarding it to Scott. She also sends it to Dominic with the message, "Check out the hallway closest to the main entrance if you want to see us kick some alpha ass."

DOM: what the hell are you guys planning?? why is isaac on a motorcycle???

DOM: never mind. it doesn't matter. i just want to see you guys humiliate them.

DOM: i've never rooted for isaac more in my entire life

Allison and Vera watch with bated breath as Isaac takes off, the sound of the roaring engine filling the empty parking lot. Vera crosses her arms over her chest.  "Do you think he'll crash?"

Allison inhales through her mouth before puffing the breath out in a sigh. "Probably. Come on."

The girls hurry to one of the side entrances of the building, therefore minimizing their chances of being associated with Isaac in case he gets caught. The sounds of the motorcycle zooming through the halls echo through the empty space. It's incredibly loud; Vera starts to worry that a teacher will come racing out of their classroom before Isaac can transfer the blame to Aiden. There are too many holes in this plan for her comfort.

She and Allison stay out of sight until Aiden's rage-filled voice screams, "GET OFF MY BIKE!"

They share twinkling grins of accomplishment. It seems that, even though Isaac can't seem to back down from a challenge, neither can Aiden. Scott had been right.

Students begin pouring out of their classrooms to see what the commotion is about. Knowing that's their cue, Vera and Allison quickly blend into the crowd, locating Scott and catching his expression of feigned confusion. Vera copies it as they turn the corner and meet Isaac, who struggles to hide his grin behind his fist as he stares at Aiden. The Alpha stands in the middle of the hallway with his hands on the bike and helmet clenched in his grip. It's the perfect scene– as long as nobody had seen Isaac.

Dominic emerges from the hoard of perplexed students. He glances quickly at Aiden, then slaps his hand over his mouth to keep himself from bursting into laughter. Ethan turns to shoot him an unreadable expression. Dom catches his eye and gives him a violent gesture that relies heavily on his middle finger, smirking triumphantly.

Miss Blake pushes through the crowd of students until she can locate the source of the fuss. When she sees Aiden and the bike, her shoulders deflate in shock. "You have got to be kidding me. You realize this is gonna result in a suspension."

Aiden's expression turns murderous. His eyes shoot past Miss Blake and land on the five of them, mouth tightening into a scowl and eyes becoming thunderous. All of them give him expressions of innocence. Allison purses her lips together to force back her laughter while Isaac smirks, but Dominic simply doesn't care and outright grins. He discreetly reaches his fist over to Isaac. The taller boy bumps it with his own knuckles.

"Back to class, everyone," Miss Blake orders. "Aiden, I'll speak to you in my classroom."

As all of the students reluctantly turn back toward their respective rooms, whispers spreading like wildfire, Vera pats Isaac on the arm. "Nice job not getting caught."

He grins down at her. Not only had Scott's plan worked in the sense that it had gotten back at the Alphas, but it had also restored Isaac's former confidence that the incident in the janitor's closet had shaken. They'd gotten the better of him twice in a row. Now, by retaliating twice as hard, they're at an even playing field once again.

— ✯✯✯ —

That night, it rains for the first time in weeks, heavy drops pelting the window in Derek's loft and thunder making the hairs on Vera's arms stand straight upward. Lightning flashes across the sky as Derek delivers Vera and Isaac the single piece of news that they'd never expected to hear.

"You two need to pack your things."

Vera's head jerks back in incredulity. She'd ended up spending the rest of the afternoon at Allison's to catch up on homework, then returned here once it had gotten dark, only to find the air thick with tension and Derek completely stone-faced. Cora is notably absent.

"What?" Vera questions, hoping he's joking. He's the one who'd forced her to live with him, and now he's ordering her out in the blink of an eye? In the middle of a thunderstorm? She doesn't understand the abrupt change.

"You heard me," Derek replies, voice harsh and flat. It's as unfeeling as his blank expression. Vera knows it well– it means he's forcing his true emotions down and putting up his walls to hide something. She's just not used to him using the tactic on her. "Pack your things and leave. Now."

He turns toward the window, posture rigid as he clenches tightly onto the empty water glass in his hand. His back is completely turned to them. Vera can usually tell what he's thinking, but now he's purposely shielding himself from her, putting on such a false front that not even she can see through it.

"I don't get it," Isaac says from where he leans against the support beam closest to Derek. "Look, did something happen?"

"It's just not gonna work with the three of you here," He  answers. "I've got Cora now, and it's too much."

Vera fires back, "Derek, that's bullshit. You own this entire building."

He doesn't respond. Lightning illuminates the otherwise dark loft once more, and when it does, Vera notices a dark stain on the cement floor that had been obscured in shadows. It's difficult to see the exact color in the lack of proper lighting, but it looks like splotches of blood. Her hands turn clammy. The stomach ache she'd had earlier had vanished after last period. What if her gut instinct had been right– what if her body was trying to tell her that something was wrong?

Derek continues deflecting. "I need you out tonight."

Isaac scoffs, his lips turning upward in a smile of disbelief. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"Somewhere else."

Vera's lips turn into a frown as she tears her gaze away from the mysterious stain on the concrete. Derek knows that Isaac doesn't have any family to live with. As their Alpha, it's his responsibility to make sure his Betas are safe and cared for. Not only has he turned his back on them – both literally and figuratively – he's also turning his back on his duties. Ones that he'd worked his ass off to steal back from Peter. Duties he'd killed their uncle for.

She knows he has some kind of reasoning behind this, but it doesn't make it right. Vera feels the sting of hurt traveling from her heart to her toes and back up again. Where is Cora? Why isn't she defending them? Vera had filled her in on the members of the pack. Cora knows Isaac doesn't have a proper home. And she knows better than anyone why Derek had insisted she stay here in the first place. Not having her here to back them up feels like she's fighting a losing battle.

"Did we do something wrong?" Isaac questions, desperate for answers. She can understand why he keeps pressing. Derek had been providing them with a safe haven; him kicking them out feels like a betrayal. He wants an explanation.

Derek whirls around, revealing the impatient furrow of his eyebrows. "You're doing something wrong right now by not leaving."

"Oh, come on."

"Just get out."

"Derek, please." Isaac takes a step forward, his expression pleading.

Their Alpha merely jabs his water glass toward the door as he walks closer to them. "Get out."

"Come on."

"Go!"

It happens so quickly, Vera barely has time to register the action. The glass is in Derek's hand in one instant. The next, it's smashing against the pillar where Isaac's head had been, shattering into a million tiny pieces that would have sliced his skin if he hadn't scrambled to duck and cover his face. 

Rage sets fire to Vera's heart, heating her face until it's beet-red and contorting her features to a gruesome snarl. "Derek!"

She leaps in front of Isaac and places a gentle hand on his arm. He's still frozen in that position, shallow pants escaping his lips as he attempts to process what had just happened. At this moment, he no longer seems like the confident, swaggering guy he usually is. He looks like a boy desperate for a male authority figure who won't hurl glasses at him for once.

Vera's fury is so intense that her head swims. The room is completely silent except for Isaac's panicked breaths and the roaring of her blood in her ears. She glares daggers at Derek's masked expression of indifference, his figure wavering because of the anger lashing within her like the thunderstorm swirling outside.

"How dare you?" she spits in a furious tone she's never used with Derek before. He merely stares at her in complete and utter silence, so she shakes her head and flashes her teeth at him. "You want us out? Fine. You're a dick, anyway."

She looks back at Isaac. His expression of hurt and betrayal morphs into one with razor-sharp edges of resentment, blue eyes simmering with trauma. Vera hopes those edges slice into Derek's heart, never allowing him to forget this day. The tides have turned as soon as he'd hurled that glass at a boy who has already endured abuse from his father.

Getting Isaac out of the situation is her number one priority. She lightly prods his arm in the direction of the door, and, with one last glare at their Alpha, he begins to walk out with her. Vera carefully positions herself between the two boys. Even after that, she remains fairly certain that Derek wouldn't purposely injure her, so she wants to act as a barrier.

As soon as they're out of the loft, Isaac sheds his cardigan and balls it up in his hands until it's a tight coil of fabric. He regards the elevator with jumpy eyes. "Uh, can we take the stairs?"

"Of course." Vera changes course so she's walking with him toward the stairwell. They descend to the first floor without another word between them, the echoes of their shoes against the concrete steps serving as the only sound. Even though the stairwell is cool, her face is still hot with anger. She can't imagine how Isaac feels.

They reach the first floor and spend a moment staring at the raging storm outside through the entrance doors. Isaac slips his cardigan back on. Vera is wearing her faux leather jacket, so they're both out of luck. She hadn't waterproofed the material because it usually hardly rains in California.

Before she reaches for the door, she wets her lips and says, "If you need a place to stay, my house is pretty empty right now."

Isaac's jaw is clenched. "It's fine. I'll just go to Scott's. You don't have to pretend to be nice to me."

That last sentence stabs into Vera's heart so intensely that she sucks in a breath. That Isaac would think – even for a second  – that Vera is only pretending to show him kindness almost hurts more than Derek's violent actions. It shows that Isaac isn't used to people wanting to help him. He has grown accustomed to every act of goodwill being a Devil's deal in disguise.

"Isaac, I'm not pretending. You need somewhere to live, and I'm offering–"

"Just drop it, okay?" Isaac shoots out. "I'll go to Scott's."

She heaves a sigh of resignation. She supposes she can't force him to listen to her, and if Scott's house is where he wants to go, she'll take him there. "Alright. But we have to take my bike since my car is at home, so hang on tight so you don't fall off."

Vera opens the door and braves the elements. The harsh wind immediately blows her hair into her face, forcing her to push it out of her eyes with her hands. She braces herself before jogging to the spot where her motorcycle is parked in the front row. Her sneakers are instantly soaked from the inch-deep puddles that splash water onto the legs of her jeans. By the time they both reach the bike, they're half-drenched.

She tosses him a helmet and hurriedly takes the cover off of the bike, shoving it into the compartment in the back. Isaac hesitantly follows suit. She turns the key in the ignition and tests her vision through the visor. Her sight is very limited, and since the rain is pelting down so violently, it's going to be a slippery ride.

Derek had known that their only form of transportation in this storm would be Vera's motorcycle. She hopes he's happy with himself.

"Hold on!" she shouts at Isaac over the crackling of thunder that makes it sound like the sky is splitting in two. He wraps his arms around her waist, locking his hands together and hugging close to her back. She makes sure he's secure before picking her feet up and speeding off, splashing through the puddle-ridden parking lot.

They're the only ones on the road at this hour and in this weather. It's a good thing, too, because Vera can hardly see, so she has to go under the speed limit to avoid crashing or skidding them to their deaths. Her thighs grip so tightly onto the bike that she feels them beginning to ache. If she falls off, so does Isaac, and then they're truly going to be in trouble.

They reach Scott's house in just over fifteen minutes. Vera is shivering when she stops in front of the driveway, her jacket doing nothing to protect her from the elements. Her teeth-chattering intensifies when Isaac releases his grip on her and slides off the bike. He'd been warm where he'd been pressed against her, and now her back is ice-cold.

He pulls off the helmet. Due to the intensity of the storm, his curls instantly drip water onto his eyelashes and down his face. The white t-shirt beneath his cardigan is soaked through, the fabric plastered to his skin. She quickly averts her eyes back to his face to avoid staring at the clearly-defined muscle visible through his shirt.

"Thank you," he says, voice barely audible over the rain, "for getting me out of there. And for the ride."

She raises the visor of her helmet so he can see her face and lifts her lips in a closed-mouth grin. "No problem. I'll grab your things tomorrow so you don't have to go back there."

He pulls his mouth into a line and nods, dropping his head down for a moment before bringing it back up again. He opens the compartment in the back of the bike and places the helmet inside before saying, "Drive safe."

Vera salutes him and snaps her visor back down. Within seconds, she's back on the road, the trip seeming much lonelier now that she's by herself, even if she and Isaac hadn't spoken on the way to Scott's.

Returning home fills her with a sense of elation that seems almost wrong in light of the events that have transpired tonight. Every other house on her street has lights shining through it that symbolize life, including Dominic's to the immediate right, but hers is completely dark. It seems cold and desolate compared to the rest.

Vera parks her motorcycle in her driveway and cuts the engine, hurrying to put the cover back on and put her helmet away. She bounds up the steps to her front door and unlocks it with her key. Once she opens it, she's immediately greeted by Hades yowling incessantly at her. She rolls her eyes fondly as she steps inside, shutting the door behind her and muffling the roar of the rain.

"You're so dramatic, Hades," she sighs as she kicks off her sneakers and shakes her wet hair out of her eyes.

But her cat doesn't stop. Hades' yowling only increases in volume until it's ear-piercing, head craning back to see her as he seems to pointedly lead her from the foyer into the living room. Her brow furrows as she follows him.

When she reaches the open room containing their sofas and television, she notices a figure seated casually on the middle cushion of the couch against the back wall. Lightning flashes through the windows and grants her a single second of sight. She notices a red and white walking stick, a slightly wrinkled face, brunette hair, and an all-too-familiar pair of black sunglasses that completely obscure the man's eyes.

Vera's breath turns shallow in her lungs, adrenaline flooding her veins as her arm jerks out to turn on one of the lamps, flooding the room with dim light that allows her to see him.

Him. A face she can never forget. Deucalion.

He looks out of place here. Vera's parents had made a point to decorate their home with respect to their native countries, meaning the decorations are bright and lively. Family photos litter nearly every available space. Vera notices with dismay that a photo of her and her father is placed on the table beside Deucalion. Seeing the murderer so close to that picture of her smiling dad is enough to make her blood boil.

Her house is supposed to represent all things good. The Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. A time when her father had still been alive. But the shadows surrounding Deucalion seem to lengthen, painting him in a sinister light that chills her to the bone more than the freezing rain ever could.

"Hello, Vera," he greets placidly in his taunting English accent, tilting his head to the side. "Has anyone ever told you that you look just like your father?"

She forces her voice not to shake as she replies, "You can't possibly know that."

"Ah." Lightning flashes again, followed by a deep rumble of thunder that nearly shakes the house. "You'd be surprised by how much a blind man really can see."

Hades stands at Vera's feet with his thick orange fur sticking straight up, hissing violently at the Alpha who has intruded upon their home.

Vera knows he can hear the deafening thud of her heart slamming against her ribcage. She knows he can smell her terror, a stench Derek had once described to be akin to gasoline. But she doesn't care. Not when it feels like her knees are going to buckle and give out beneath her. Not when it feels like the ceiling is going to cave in and crush her to death.

She swallows thickly, rallying her strength. "What do you want?"

Deucalion regards Hades' hissing with an unfazed raise of his eyebrow. He inhales through his mouth, leaning forward on the sofa so that his elbows rest against his knees. "I'm here to tell you that it's not me you need to worry about. Rather, I'd be more concerned about that brother of yours."

Though her heart drops into her stomach at those words, she gathers her wits. He's offering information. Keep him talking, Vera.

"What are you going to do to Derek?"

"To Derek?" Deucalion asks, the corner of his lip raising in amusement. "Nothing. I'm afraid he's going to do it all to himself."

Another rumble of thunder makes Vera stiffen. The Demon Wolf pushes himself to his feet, causing Vera to instinctively take a step back and make herself invisible. His comment about how much he can see had deeply unsettled her. She doesn't want to take any chances.

"I'll be leaving now," he announces, unfolding his walking stick and placing it on the hardwood floor in front of him. His shoes click as he walks. Hades arches his back as high as it can go when he comes closer, the cat's fur standing straight up and violent hisses firing from his mouth. Deucalion stops directly in front of Vera, seeming to stare straight down at her. The action makes her knees buckle with terror even though she knows he can't actually see her. "I don't have a reason to hurt you, Vera. You don't have to be afraid of me. In time, you'll see why."

As he turns to leave and walks toward the door, it takes all of Vera's willpower not to seize Hades and throw him at Deucalion so her cat can mar his face a little bit. It wouldn't do any good. He would probably just kill her cat and take away another thing she loves.

She becomes visible again once his back is to her, her entire body trembling with both fear and fury. She wants to curse his name so violently her mother would faint. She wants to come up with something witty to say so he doesn't underestimate her. But the shock of seeing him again for the first time in nearly ten years renders her frozen, any words she could have said lodged in her throat.

Hades continues his hissing fit all the way until Deucalion closes the door behind him. Then, he returns back to his normal self, smoothing his fur down and rubbing against Vera's ankles, content that she's back home.

Vera picks him up and cradles his furry body to her chest, listening to his purrs in an effort to calm her racing heartbeat and the adrenaline that still makes her feel like her body weighs a million pounds. The worst part is that she knows exactly who she wants to call: Derek. That option is out of the water now. And with Deucalion's cryptic warning about him causing his own downfall, she isn't sure what to think of her brother anymore.

__________

a/n:

alright, hear me out. is this chapter really long? yes. could i have split it into separate parts? yes. but here's the thing: i didn't want to. i was too excited to finally get the scenes with them leaving derek's loft and the meeting with deucalion out in the open to chop this chapter in half. it's now the longest one of the entire book, but i honestly wouldn't be surprised if future ones end up being this length as well. sometimes i can't help myself when it comes to adding 409320 details to make things more realistic.

another thing: please bear with me as i attempt to fix some of the plot holes in the show. there are a lot, and some things just straight-up don't make sense, so i'm doing my best to smooth them over and occasionally change things so they actually do make sense. that's one of the perks of being a teen wolf fanfic author, i guess!! nothing ever makes sense and you just gotta deal with it!!

i also wanted to get this up to provide you guys with some entertainment during this pandemic. how are you guys doing? to be honest, this entire situation has caused my anxiety go 📈📈📈📈, so i hope i can still make it to my therapy appointment next week. online school is also hella stressful, so i've been spending way too much time watching tiktoks than doing my homework.... oops.

i hope you are all doing well and continue to take care of yourselves during these troubling times. remember i am always here for you and you have a wonderful community on here to chat with!!

—kristyn

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