┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐
chapter twelve!
TIME-BOMB
└─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘

( frayed, pt. iii )

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

VERA HAS HARDLY been outside of the bus for three minutes before a body barrels into her. She's forced to take a step back at the force, blinking in mild surprise before her brain recognizes the familiar weight of Dominic's hug. He embraces her like he can piece all of her broken parts back together again. She returns it just as intently, burying her face in his chest and forcing her face not to screw up in pain at the familiarity of his touch.

The hug lasts for several long moments before he pulls back just enough to hold her by the forearms. His own green eyes are glassy, shadows lurking beneath his eyes like he hadn't slept much the previous night.

"How are you?" he asks quietly as if he's afraid his voice will break if he speaks any louder.

Vera huffs a sardonic laugh, shaking her head. Her contacts shift in her eyes as she forces them not to water. "I don't know."

Dominic nods, rapidly blinking away his tears and wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his orange hoodie. He gives her arm a squeeze before stepping back and exhaling a shuddering breath. Somehow, seeing his reaction twists her gut more than her own grief. Next to Derek, Dom is the brother figure she's known the longest. He's feeling this loss almost as deeply as she is.

"Vera," the voice of Stiles softly calls. He appears out of nowhere to pull her into a hug as well, his tall and lanky frame caging her in. The action both surprises and pleases her, her heart swelling with appreciation for her friends as he pulls away.

Vera gives him a tiny lift of her lips. "Thanks."

He nods in response. Then he reaches out to pat Dominic on the back, pulling him into a sort of half-hug because Dominic is still trying very obviously to hold back his tears. "Hey, man. It'll be okay."

Vera clears her throat and glances around the parking lot near the bus. Almost all of the lacrosse players are here — the actual cross country team is big enough to fill an entire bus, so they're driving separately. Dominic had been among the few stragglers to volunteer to ride with Coach Finstock's team instead. Vera is immensely grateful for it; she doesn't know what she would have done if he hadn't been here to accompany her on this five-hour-long bus ride.

Something supernatural stirs in her gut. She turns to see Boyd arriving with his bag slung over a shoulder, expression nearly blank. He catches her eye and switches his gaze to Isaac. With a sigh puffing from his lips, he approaches them.

"What do we do now?" he asks, voice low. "We're Omegas. We need a pack."

"We can't do anything about that right now," Vera replies. "We have a meet– we can't just go out looking for one."

Besides, a part of her doesn't want to move on, yet. The loss of both Erica and Derek has her dazed, almost certain that if she doesn't try to look for another Alpha, this isn't real.

The dark-skinned boy shakes his head. His eyes are downcast, a rare hint of pain in his voice when he mumbles, "I can't believe it. I saw it happen, and I still can't believe it."

Vera nods in understanding while Isaac stays carefully silent. "I know. Me neither."

She pats Boyd's arm because that's the only way she knows how to comfort him. He doesn't seem to be a big hugger, but appears grateful all the same.

"What is this, 'Hug Your Lacrosse Players Day'?" Coach Finstock questions as his hawk-like eyes flicker between Boyd and Vera, then move onto where Stiles still has one arm around Dominic's shoulders. "If it is, don't expect any warm embraces from me unless we win this meet today. Now get on the bus!"

Vera's hand slips back to her side. She picks up her duffle bag from the ground and heaves the strap over one shoulder, waiting in the rapidly-forming line to board the mustard-yellow vehicle. She notices that she's one of the few girls onboard. After spending two years on an all-guys lacrosse team, it isn't new to her, but she still has to stifle a groan at the thought of being trapped in a bus with all that testosterone for five hours.

Someone steps in line behind her. The hair on the back of her neck stands straight up in warning, causing her to turn around and crane her neck upward until she meets the glittering eyes of Ethan Steiner. An all-powering rage consumes her at the sight of him perfectly intact. It's as if someone had doused her in gasoline and then lit a match, allowing the flames to smother her from head to toe with reckless abandon. Her eyes narrow to vicious slits as her jaw sets.

She remembers how it had felt to punch his brother across the face. Her fist tightens at her side, aching to take down a second Alpha, until someone prods her forward with a hand on her back and breaks her concentration.

"Morning," Dominic greets him sarcastically as he urges her onto the bus. He keeps steering her by the shoulders until they reach the fifth row of seats to the left. Vera slides into the window seat, letting her bag plop to the floor in front of her and slumping into the black leather bench.

Boyd and Isaac choose to sit in the row across from them. Scott and Stiles take the very back, leaving Ethan and Danny to choose one of the middle rows. Vera glances at Dominic to gauge his reaction to their budding relationship. He pays them absolutely no mind, focusing intently on his phone. Whether he needs it as a distraction or if he really doesn't care about Ethan anymore, she's not sure.

All she's certain about is the rage that's covering her from head-to-toe. It blocks out all of her other senses, making her palms sweat and jaw begin to ache from how tense it becomes.

To hell with the consequences of her actions. Derek isn't around for Deucalion to manipulate anymore; the Demon Wolf can't coerce him into killing her. Right now, she isn't afraid of Ethan or Deucalion. Her fists beg for retribution inflicted for the loss of her brother. Besides, Aiden is still suspended so he isn't here. How hard would it be if all three of the Hale Pack Betas ganged up on Ethan?

Vera turns slightly so she can glare at Ethan from over the empty rows of seats between them. He meets her menacing stare with a relatively blank one. She can't see any emotions swimming in his brown eyes, no hint of aggression in his body language as he sits placidly beside Danny. Still, she doesn't trust the façade of innocence. Just because he's not doing something now doesn't mean he won't try to later.

As if reading her mind, Dominic places a hand on top of her head and forces her back down into her seat. Vera hadn't even realized that she'd started to get up. He doesn't take his eyes off of his phone, leading her to deduce that it is, in fact, some form of distraction for him.

"Do not do anything," he tells her lowly.

"I've never wanted to punch someone more in my life," Vera grounds out through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, I get that," Dominic says, "but you can't beat him up on the bus. You'll get suspended or something, and then you'll have to explain that to your mom."

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do. That's just your anger talking."

Vera huffs, knowing he's probably right, as usual. She crosses her arms over her chest and tries to shove down the wrath churning her gut. It's making her rational thoughts become scattered fragments, forcing her to work extra hard in order for her to think logically. Anger mostly leads to impulse.

She'd warned Isaac not to do anything stupid. Who knew she'd need to take that advice for herself?

At least Allison had packed her comfortable clothes. Since they'll end up changing at the meet anyway, she's wearing a pair of leggings and a cream-colored tank top underneath a rosy knit cardigan that ends just below her backside. She finds herself huddling into the soft material while she shifts her eyes out the window. Maybe, just maybe, looking at the outside world will help her focus.

As the bus pulls onto the highway, Coach's whistle slices through the air. "Two of you, back in your seats!" A couple of students at the front of the bus scramble to sit down after trying to play some sort of game in the aisle. Coach's glare trains on a kid seated alone, his hunched-over position and pale face clear in Vera's mind even if he's a few rows ahead of them. "Jared, again, car sick? Every ti— how do you even get on the bus?"

Jared, a round-faced sophomore with thick-framed glasses, grunts in response.

"Look at me," Coach orders. "No, don't look at me. Look at the horizon. Keep your eyes– keep your eyes on the horizon, okay?" He straightens up when Jared nods, only for his shoulders to deflate in dismay once more once his eyes lock onto someone in the back. "McCall, not you too."

"No, Coach, I'm good," Scott replies weakly from the back of the bus, sounding extremely not good. He hadn't allowed Isaac or Vera to see the claw marks on his abdomen that morning. Vera, though knowing it meant he probably hadn't healed yet, had decided not to push it.

Vera allows herself to zone out with her eyes locked on the clear California sky. Their surroundings are dry and beige-colored, the bus passing towering hills made of rock and tufts of dead grass. They aren't very pretty by any means, but her brain, as always, is eager for a pastime of any sort.

Her phone eventually buzzes with a text. She sluggishly digs it out of her pocket to read a text from Cora, to her surprise.

CORA: Went back to the mall and both bodies were gone. Peter found me there, so we're trying to figure out what happened. Not that I like working with him.

CORA: I'm trying not to get my hopes up yet, but I thought you should know. Good luck at the meet.

Vera sucks in a breath that spreads ice down to her toes. The bodies— gone? A possible explanation for that would be if they'd somehow managed to leave on their own. But when the teenagers had all been dragged out, both bodies had been very much unmoving. It would require a tremendous amount of strength for them to get out of the mall from that far down.

She turns to Dom, eager to share the news, only to see him no longer looking at his phone. It's in his lap with the screen face-down as if he doesn't want to look at it anymore, eyes harboring a storm and gaze fixed straight ahead. His mouth is puckered into a troubled frown.

"Dom?" she asks. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he answers curtly. "I'm fine."

She knows her friend well enough to understand that's a complete lie. Shifting in her seat so she's turned toward him, she places a hand on his shoulder. "You know you can tell me anything."

Dominic stays silent for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth. He sighs as he concedes. He slips his phone into her hand and unlocks it, nodding for her to read the screen. She holds it up to her face to discover a conversation with Charlie Gallagher— the boy from hockey camp.

DOMINIC: it's like God just threw me onto earth and said 'you're gonna be a dumb little bisexual moron' and then sent tragedy my way

CHARLIE: Wait dude you're bi?

DOMINIC: yes?

CHARLIE: This entire time, I thought you were gay

DOMINIC: well i am. i mean, i'm bi, but i'm not straight.

CHARLIE: You're still half straight

DOMINIC: i'm not "half" anything. i'm bisexual.

DOMINIC: why does this matter? i'm into you regardless

CHARLIE: Why would I date someone who can just change their mind and go back to being straight? Just pick a side or something lmao. I can't be with someone who doesn't know what they want.

DOMINIC: we're done here.

READ AT 9:35 AM

Vera's heart twists as she reads the text conversation. She's never met Charlie due to the fact that he lives in another town, but she has spent the past couple months watching Dominic's eyes light up every time he'd talked about him. They hadn't made anything official, but Dom had seemed very keen on doing so, especially after Ethan. From how Dominic had talked about him, Charlie had seemed like a great guy.

Her mouth is sour as she glances back at the conversation. Not anymore. He'd shown his true colors at one of the worst possible moments.

Dominic runs a hand through his brunet locks, scoffing. "I just — I can't believe it."

Vera rests her head on his shoulder and sets his phone down in his lap again. "I'm really proud of you for sticking up for yourself."

"Yeah, but I wish I didn't need to do that at all. I thought Charlie —" His voice falters, getting caught in his throat for a moment before he swallows thickly. "I thought he was different. I didn't mention the fact that I also like girls because I didn't think it mattered yet as long as I liked him."

Vera's gut contorts even further at the despondency in his voice that reduces it to splinters. It makes her feel sick that her friend is going through this. Even though most of the people she knows are accepting of their sexualities, she has still experienced the occasional slap-in-the-face biphobic comment that sends her spiraling into a pit of self-doubt. It's a terrible, gut-wrenching feeling.

Dominic rests his head on top of hers for a moment, then picks it back up as if he doesn't know what to do with himself. His fingers tap restlessly on his leg. His entire body is tense beneath her comforting touch, a spring that's been wound too tightly and is going to burst from bottled-up tension.

"You're valid," Vera tells him. "Don't listen to him. Liking girls doesn't make your attraction to guys any less justifiable."

Although Dom had stuck up for himself, it's a lot easier to say things than to actually believe them in the moment. She can sense the self-doubt beginning to smother him. If he doesn't try to fight it off now, he'll be trapped under its weight for who-knows-how-long. With the added weight of Derek's demise... it could be even worse.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "I hate being let down like this, you know? I'm like a stupid little moth to a flame. Everyone I like ends up burning me somehow. I just want someone to like me for who I am and stay. Is that too much to ask?" He manages a small laugh. "Maybe I should become a monk."

"You'd never last as a monk and you know it," Vera says teasingly, hoping some good-natured banter will help ease his mind. It seems to work. She picks her head up to see the harsh lines of heartbreak beginning to smooth over on his face, a bit of the usual light returning to his eyes. It might take him a while to fully shake off the hurt plaguing his heart, but at least it's a start.

Then she's nearly thrown out of her seat by the bus lurching to an unexpected stop. Scott gives a pained grunt from the back of the bus as he's unceremoniously jostled around, a stark reminder of how shitty this day is at barely ten in the morning.

Vera glances around outside to see a line of cars stretched as far as she can see until it disappears around a curve. Their horns blare faintly in the distance, urging the vehicles ahead to get a move on so the single-laned highway isn't at a standstill. All the noise does is provide an annoyance.

"There's a jackknifed tractor a few miles ahead," she hears Isaac report from across the aisle. Like her, he has the window seat, but there's considerably less room for the two of them due to his mile-long legs and Boyd's muscular frame. "Could miss the meet. ...Boyd?"

Vera straightens once she feels something crackle in her veins– a white-hot flash of rage that isn't hers. She glances over Dominic to see Boyd's hulking frame trembling with fury, eyes as sharp as a knife and a snarl pulling back his lips. The boy slowly turns until he's glaring at an oblivious Ethan two rows behind them. His eyes flash a golden hue that makes her heart stagger in her chest.

"Boyd, no!" she hisses, reaching over Dominic's lap to jab her pointer finger into his leg. "Do not wolf out on this bus."

Vera thinks that the condensed vehicle could handle someone throwing a few punches. But a werewolf who has just lost his Alpha? Someone would get torn to ribbons and their secret would be exposed.

Like herself, Boyd doesn't want to listen to reason. Maybe that's why Derek had chosen them for his pack– in more ways than the Betas may realize, they're the same.

Instead of calming down, Boyd reaches down and snatches her wrist in his hand without seeming to realize what he's doing. Her face twists in a cringe as his supernatural strength threatens to fracture her bones. The claw marks from her sparring session with Isaac are still healing— a snap of her arm and they could split open again, getting blood all over her sweater. His iron grip makes her bite down a scream.

"Boyd!" Isaac chastises, ripping the boy's arm away from Vera. She nearly collapses at the sudden leverage until Dominic carefully catches her.

Her heart thunders in her chest as frantic pants burst from her lips. Adrenaline lessens the agony spreading through her arm, but it doesn't completely stop her bones from aching. She gently pulls up her sleeve. There's a hand mark on her arm in the shape of his fingers— one that will likely turn into a bruise with time.

Boyd has never done that to her. As soon as Derek had formed his pack, he'd made it explicitly clear that although Vera had been human at the time, she'd still been their equal, and they weren't allowed to do her any harm. It seems that the loss of him has made Boyd's wolf instincts overpower his human side.

Dominic eases her back into the spot beside him, nervously eyeing the claws protruding from Boyd's fingers as he curls them around the bench in front of him. He keeps all of his limbs away from the werewolf in case Boyd decides to snap one of them in half. Isaac has never been the best at pep talks. His alarmed gaze flickers to the Beta, mouth slightly ajar as if words are now caught in his throat.

A familiar, tanned hand slams over Boyd's and prevents him from reacting. Scott sinks into the empty row in front of Vera and Dominic. His opposite palm presses onto the wound on his abdomen, though his face has traded its usual expression of pain for one of grim determination.

"Let go," Boyd growls, his lips pulled into a furious line.

"You got a plan?" Scott questions. "Tell me your brilliant plan and I'll let go. What are you gonna do— kill him, right here? And then what? What are you gonna do after that?"

"I don't care."

Boyd moves as if to lunge toward Ethan, a low snarl escaping through his teeth, but Scott and Isaac hold him firmly in place.

"I do," Scott counters.

Isaac peers over Boyd, his eyebrows creasing in concern. "Whoa, hey, you're still hurt?"

Vera can't see Scott's injury from where she sits, but Boyd's anger dissolves from his face when he glances at it. The anger lighting up his eyes shifts to sympathy. Whatever he sees is enough to break through the anger clouding his judgment, softening his features.

"I'm fine," the boy insists with a sluggish blink. "Give me a chance to figure something out– something that doesn't have to end with someone else dying."

Boyd's gaze flickers from Scott's wound to his face, nodding slightly. "Okay."

Scott pats his hand in thanks before standing up. He moves back to his seat with slow, hobbled steps that make Vera more worried than before. She knows that injuries from an Alpha can take longer to heal, but Scott doesn't seem any better than he was last night. He almost seems worse.

"Vera," Boyd says, causing her attention to snap back to him. His eyebrows are pushed together, face slack with regret as he observes the gruesome hand mark on her wrist. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean t—"

"It's fine." She tugs down the pink sleeve of her cardigan so the mark isn't visible. "I'll be okay."

She leans her head back against the leather bench, puffing a sigh and turning her gaze to the ceiling. Though it hadn't been a lie, she's not sure how true her statement will end up being.

— ✯✯✯ —

After two hours of being stuck in the traffic jam, they've hardly moved more than a mile. Dominic is passed out with his head on Vera's shoulder. Not wanting to waste her phone battery by playing mindless games or waiting for updates from Cora, Vera has been trying to count to 10,000 in her head. With the number of diversions on the bus as the teenagers get increasingly more restless — like Danny's phone chiming forty-seven times in a single minute — she hasn't managed to get very high.

"Jared, I'm warning you," Coach says to the still-nauseous boy. "I'm an empathetic vomiter. If you throw up, I'm gonna throw up right back on you and it will be profoundly disgusting."

"Please don't talk about throwing up," Jared begs in a wavering voice. "It's not good."

"I might throw up on you just to make a point, Jared."

The kid rapidly shakes his head. "It's not good. It's not good."

"Now the rest of you, don't think we're gonna miss this meet because of a slight traffic jam, a mild tornado warning, Jared." He casts another pointed look at the bench where he's curled up. "We're gonna make this thing. Nothing is gonna stop us! Stilinski, put your hand down."

"You know, there's, like, a food exit about half a mile up," Stiles informs him. "I don't know if we stop and then maybe—"

"We're not gonna stop," Coach cuts him off.

"Okay, but if we stop—"

"Stilinski!" The man shoves his whistle in his mouth and blows hard on it, sending the sound piercing into their eardrums and causing Dominic to jolt awake. "Shut it! Seriously! It's a little bus! Stop asking me questions!"

Dominic rubs his tired eyes with a groan. "He does realize he's about five times louder than Stiles, right?"

Vera shakes her head with a roll of her eyes, still cradling her injured arm to her stomach. The pain has turned into a steady ache that causes a burst of pain every time she moves her wrist. This injury, in combination with the sides of her hands still being skinned from falling in the mall, is going to make her seem like she'd been in some nasty fight. Which, technically, she has.

Meanwhile, Stiles is attempting to get Coach to listen to him. It doesn't seem to be working at all. Vera doesn't bother turning around to watch, but she knows that any endeavor to persuade the man is going to fall on deaf ears. He's the most stubborn person she knows, and that's an impressive feat considering how close she is to all of the Hale family.

"Coach, it's five minutes for a bathroom break, okay? We've been on this thing for like three hours—"He cuts himself off when Coach's whistle slices through his sentence, then gathers his bearings and barrels on. "It's sixty miles to the next rest stop after" –SHRIEK!– "Being cooped up for hours is not good" –SHRIEK!– "You know, our bladders aren't exactly" –SHRIEK!– "Coach" –SHRIEK!– "This is" –SHRIEK!– "Can you" –SHRIEK!– "Please" –SHRIEK! SHRIEK! SHRIEK!– "LET ME TALK!" –SHRIEK!– "Every time –"

Coach lets his whistle pierce the air for a solid four full seconds before he spits it from his mouth and shouts, "Get back to your seat, Stilinski!"

"OKAY!" Stiles roars back, rubbing his nose in aggravation as he turns away from the shorter man.

Dominic reaches up to rub his temples in exasperation.

"Jared, keep your eyes on the horizon," Coach reminds the carsick boy, storming back to the front of the bus.

Stiles slowly turns back around. Vera flickers her gaze to him to see his eyes alight with realization and mischief, hurrying past them until he slides into the spot beside Jared.

Vera shuts her eyes. Whatever he's planning, it can't be good.

And that ends up being true. A whopping two minutes later, the bus driver is forced to pull off to the side of the highway and drive them through the dirt to get to the closest rest stop as the sound of Jared vomiting fills the bus. A few people cry out in disgust, leaping onto their seats to avoid the substance. Before Coach can whirl around to see what the commotion is about, Stiles rockets himself away from Jared to avoid taking the blame.

The doors fly open. The kids eagerly sprint into the open air, indistinct chatter rising as they fight to get off of the foul-smelling vehicle. Coach grabs a can of Lysol and begins spraying the citrus-scented disinfectant all around the seats, causing Vera to sputter and her eyes to water as she scrambles to leave. The burst of fresh air that welcomes her as she steps onto the grass is much appreciated.

She turns to see Allison and Lydia running up to the bus. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Where'd you guys come from?"

"We've been following you this entire time and now we're out of gas," Allison replies offhandedly, standing on her toes to see above the horde of students milling around outside. "Where's Scott?"

Stiles appears with the injured boy's arm thrown over his shoulder. With Scott's jacket spread out, Vera can now see the large splotch of blood causing his shirt to stick to the wound— blood so dark it almost looks black. It's definitely worse than it had been last night. Before, he was only bleeding enough to require a towel. Now it seems like the puddle would soak right through one.

Allison rushes forward to help take Scott's opposite arm. Vera's knees buckle at the sight of him in this state, her breath turning shallow in her lungs.

Coach pops his head out of one of the windows, still spraying Lysol anywhere he can reach. "Jared, you suck! Hey, somebody grab some towels or a mop... or a new bus."

Lydia rushes after Stiles, Scott, and Allison as they move steadily toward the men's bathroom. Vera can only follow them with her eyes. She doesn't think she could move her legs if she wanted to, even though the overwhelming stench of scented disinfectant is starting to waft from the open windows of the bus. She tracks their movements until they disappear into the restroom.

"He'll be okay," Dominic says, also staring in the direction they'd gone, but his tone suggests he doesn't quite believe it.

Vera sucks in a shuddering breath that gets caught in her throat, nodding. It's all she can do to keep herself from spiraling.

She, Dominic, Isaac, and Boyd stay rooted in the same spot as if they're afraid to move. The other students wander around obliviously as Coach works on getting the bus cleaned. Vera doesn't absorb anything that's going on around her. She's only aware of her heart pounding in her chest, palms sweating as she waits for them to re-emerge.

Stiles and Lydia come walking back outside a few moments later, though with how slowly time is passing, it may as well have been hours. Neither of them looks pleased, Stiles' eyebrows pinched in worry and Lydia's lips pulled into a nervous line as they walk closer to the group.

"Well?" Dominic questions impatiently.

Stiles takes a deep breath and stops beside them. "It's — It's not good. He's getting worse by the second, and ... it may already be too late."

"I gave Allison some thread to stitch him up," Lydia adds without looking at any of them. "I thought it might be in his head because of Derek, so if she closest the wound, he'll think he's healing. But I don't know if it'll work."

Hearing Lydia Martin being uncertain about something is definitely a cause for alarm.

Vera inhales deeply through her mouth, the breath getting trapped in her throat so it comes out as a sputter. She doesn't react when Stiles asks Dominic for help with distracting Coach so that the bus doesn't leave. Her body is as still as a statue aside from the rapid rising and falling of her chest, though Lydia recognizes the uneven pattern and flickers her green-eyed gaze down to hers.

"Vera?" she asks in concern. "Hey, it's okay. You need to slow your breathing."

Vera shakes her head, her skin becoming so flushed it feels like she's going to sweat through her cardigan. She shrugs it off and crumbles the fabric into a ball that she hugs close to her chest, her vision becoming blurry as every noise turns soft. It feels like her chest is being crushed by the weight of her fear. Her ribs ache as if splintering in half, threatening to puncture her internal organs and leave her for dead.

Not Scott. Ever since their paths had entwined in January, he'd believed in her whereas Stiles had been skeptical. He'd managed to see the real her through the façade she'd put up while Derek had been creating his pack. He's been a constant ever since then, a beacon of hope and light that she could never imagine being extinguished.

She can't lose another person she cares about. Not now, when the wounds from Derek and Erica are still so fresh. Not ever.

Isaac's gaze lingers on her for a moment before it locks on something past Lydia. Then he storms away, Boyd hot on his tail, and the sound of bone cracking immediately following. Someone screams. The sound is muffled to Vera's ears as if she's hearing it from underwater.

Lydia slaps a hand over Vera's mouth and nose, blocking her sight of what the hell her pack members are doing. The sun is too bright for her to see anything. Her lungs spasm as they fight for air, but the strawberry blonde's grip is persistent and holds her in place. She doesn't let go until she sees some of the panic leave Vera's eyes. Then, her palm cautiously returns to her side, her observant gaze trailing over the shorter girl to make sure she isn't about to slip straight into another attack.

Though fear is still churning her gut violently enough to make her as nauseous as Jared, she feels less like she's going to pass out from overwhelming terror. Her voice trembles when she says, "Thanks."

Lydia nods. "No problem."

Vera's ears recognize a familiar noise as they tune back into her surroundings: punching. She blinks to clear her slightly-blurry vision as she steps around Lydia, observing a large crowd gathered around a nearby tree. Boyd leans against the plant with his arms crossed over his chest, perfectly serene even though there is clearly a fight going on.

She jogs up to Boyd with her cardigan still tucked in her grip, alarm on her face as she slows to a stop beside him. "What's—?"

The slightly higher elevation gives her the perfect vantage point of the action. Isaac is holding Ethan down on his knees with his fingers curled into his shirt, throwing punch after punch into his already bleeding face with reckless abandon. Every resounding crack! of bone makes the crowd flinch, though nobody dares to get between them. A few people are even taking videos of the scene.

Crack! Ethan's nose shatters in a burst of blood. Crack! Crimson drips from the corner of his lip. Crack! He smiles with a flash of bloody teeth, amusement simmering in his dark eyes as if seeing Isaac lose control is funny.

Normally, Vera would make him stop. But seeing Ethan getting his face beaten in is almost kind of satisfying, so she stands next to Boyd and watches the blood splatter on the grass at their feet.

"Isaac! Isaac!" Coach shouts in protest, struggling to weave his way through the tightly-packed crowd of spectators.

Danny ducks beneath Isaac's wild swings and attempts to drag him away by the middle, only to be shoved aside a moment later. A desperate plea of, "Stop!" bursts from his mouth when Isaac turns back to the Alpha. It falls on deaf ears.

"ISAAC!" the voice of Scott roars. Immediately, the boy freezes, releasing his grip on Ethan so the Alpha drops to the ground. Isaac slowly straightens to his full height and turns to look at Scott's stern expression with all of his previous bloodlust gone. It's as if he's snapped out of a daze. The only thing on his mind had been revenge for Scott, but now that he's here, it's draining from him like water from a bathtub.

Vera struggles to stifle her gasp of relief at the sight of him standing on his own. Scott is wearing a new shirt – likely one from his bag – and there's not a speck of blood in sight. His eyebrows are pinched in disappointment, not pain. Lydia's suture idea had worked.

His very presence is enough to make her feel guilty for not helping Ethan out. A similarly regretful expression crosses Isaac's face, eyes downcast like a scolded puppy. The sensation passing over her like a cloud is akin to the effect that Derek had on her... but Scott isn't even an Alpha.

She lifts her gaze to his, recalling how his eyes had shifted ruby red during the battle with the Alphas. It had lasted for a moment, but it had been a moment that had struck her to the core. Maybe it had been a trick of the light. After all, they had returned to their normal golden hue a second later.

"Alright, back on the bus," Coach orders. "Now that we've all let off some steam — and other bodily fluids, in Jared's case — I hope we can all spend these last few hours in some goddamn peace."

_______

a/n:

can i just say... thank god i am done with this episode!! there were a lot of important character moments involved, but i also just LOVE motel california (despite the trauma it causes the characters) so i was really excited to get to it.

buckle up, folks. it's gonna be a fun ride. and by "fun" i mean "not at all" because everyone is miserable :) but !!! lydia will slowly be making more appearances in this book and i'm pumped to write more scenes of her and vera

+ thank you guys so much for 20k reads!! i'm having a LOT of fun writing this story and i'm so glad that you seem to like it as well 💗💗 your support means the absolute WORLD to me and i get so excited when i see people comment on this book. it means more than you know. so if you liked the chapter, please let me know!!

—kristyn

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