xvii. HOW THE MIGHTY FALL

○ ○ ○

CARTER INEVITABLY BECAME oblivious to her surroundings that next morning, mind elsewhere as she mindlessly tapped her fingers on her desk. The class was quiet but her mind was screaming at her, but that much was expected considering what had happened to her last night. She wanted to keep her promise to herself to be calm, despite the fact that she was up all night staring at her wall with no sleep. After Lydia went home rather abruptly last night, she was left to explain to Logan why one of her best friends showed up at her apartment building screaming. And it hadn't necessarily been the easiest task persuading Logan not to tell anyone what happened.

Some part of her had a sliver of optimism that her predicted death would be proven wrong after the deadpool had been shut down, but the rippling feeling in the pit of her stomach and the blinding pressure at the base of her skull didn't seem to agree. Neither did Lydia. Neither did her dreams. After all she had gone through in the past few months, from being stuck in a fucking temple being experimented on to standing in front of another human with her claws lodged in the side of their neck, she finally understood what her life meant. For the longest time, she was just breathing and hoping the consequences of her past wouldn't catch up to her. Now, she understood that waking up every day to a pack—a family—that loved her, walking down the hallway to see people smile at her and not cower away in fear, and know that, if her life were just to abruptly end, she would be okay with it.

"Lydia?" The voice brought Carter out of her thoughts. She blinked a few times to dismiss her noisy head before glancing up to see that Malia was desperately trying to get Lydia's attention.

The strawberry-blonde didn't respond, too engrossed in her work.

"Lydia," Malia called again, her, Lydia, Carter, and Kira currently sitting in their economics class, and thankfully, the four of them had been seated next to each other.

The Were-Pheanix and Kitsune looked at one another, immediately noticing the excitement written upon Malia's face. Carter knew that Lydia wanted nothing more than to congratulate the Werecoyote on her hard work, but she also knew that Lydia was a bit out of it—had been since last night. And from what she could tell, Lydia barely remembered showing up at her apartment screaming. Everyone knew what that meant, but no one had the guts to talk about it. When a Banshee screamed, it meant death. There was no way around it; that was why Carter hadn't wanted anyone to find out, she didn't want them to get distracted from what really mattered trying to save her life.

Carter couldn't help but let an exhausted laugh fall from her mouth, pulling her hands up to her face and rub at it. Once again, she was following fear instead of running away from it—she had been running for too long—and she hated it. Every single instinct of her wanted to crawl out of her own body and get as far away as possible, knowing that she was an infection that would continue to everyone around her until they were all left utterly destroyed.

"Did you hear me? Look—" Malia continued, causing Lydia to finally glance up from her paper to see the girl waving her test out in front of her. "I passed."

Lydia distracted eyes fell upon the red C- written and circled at the top of Malia's test, and managed to give the girl a faint smile. Kira beamed, barely fighting the urge to applaud in the middle of class. And despite their differences, Carter was proud of Malia—for a girl who had been trapped inside the form of a coyote for over eight years, she had been picking up on certain things pretty well.

"C-minus," Lydia commented dryly, obviously not finding it all that great. Then again, it was Lydia—the girl was a proven genius—based on how high her IQ is.

"Your notes are great when they're not written in code," Malia complemented, knowing fairly well that Lydia's notes were the only thing keeping Malia from failing all of her classes.

And in that exact moment, Coach Finstock strolled down the aisle of desks and slapped another test packet on Malia's desk. This one, though, had a red F written and circled underneath her passing percentage on the test: 54%. Carter visibly cringed, feeling her heart sink a little at the sight. Malia's face fell, a frown tugging on her lips as she stared down at the failing grade on the packet.

"Disappointed, Malia," Finstock announced, the girl slowly looking up at him. "Profoundly disappointed."

As Finstock continued is way down the aisle, Malia met Lydia's eyes desperately asking for her help.

"I'll send you my notes."

Lydia glanced away from the girl, eyeing the blackboard at the front of the class.

NET-WORTH AT TIME OF DEATH
ADJUSTED FOR INFLATION

JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER: 318 BILLION
CORNELIUS VANDERBILT: 150 BILLION
HENRY FORD: 188 BILLION

Her spine instantly went rigid at the sight, thinking back to the deadpool. The writings on the board not doing much in helping her forget about it. Her mind kept going back to the images of their lifeless bodies—thinking about how their lives were on the line...thinking about how much they were worth dead.

"It's over," Kira whispered, noticing the look on Lydia's face. "The computers are off. No more assassins. No more murders. No one's dying."

Carter gulped. This was far from over—well, it was over for everyone else—everyone but her. For Carter, she still had to get everything planned; go through with her plan before someone could stop her, before they figured out what she was going to do. There was no way she could have a single flaw in her plan—the next few nights had to be carried out perfectly. Without any thoughts of doubt or fear. If it didn't, then everything she had been keeping quiet for months would be revealed.

And all would be lost.

They would come for her.

They would kill everyone she cared about.

The effects of it all hung heavily on her shoulders. She knew that what she was planning was immoral, but they gave her no other choice. They were using her as bait, she knew that there was no other way out of it. Besides, she knew—well, she hoped—that her friends would eventually at one point understand why she did it. It was the only way for her to save them all. Carter couldn't just simply choice herself, because that would end in her losing everyone else.

"Not yet."

○ ○ ○

"Who told you?"

"Logan."

She nodded, not at all surprised. Even though she tried her hardest to persuade Logan to keep his mouth shut, she went ahead and figured that Logan would tell Scott and Stiles about the events the moment she saw them. She just wished she had more time to think of a proper way to explain to Scott what she was planning, but she couldn't. He would only try to stop her.

"Your heart's racing, Carter."

"I know," she replied, glancing to her left. "It's practically beating up between my ears."

Scott stared at Carter with raised eyebrows, wondering why she thought Derek's loft was actually a good place to meet up and talk. The teenage boy only frowned at her words, his hand going out to grab her forearm to pull her toward the couch. Scott didn't say anything, just slowly lowered himself down onto the couch—waiting for Carter to do the same. He watched as she gulped; could smell the anxiety rolling off her. She nibbled on the inside of her lip before nodding to herself, sitting down beside the Alpha.

"You know, Banshees only predict death—it's not always one-hundred percent." Scott began after a long minute of silence, his words strained as it sounded like he was convincing himself of the situation more than her. "Did Stiles tell you that Deaton is trying to find a way to help both you and Derek?"

Carter nodded before glancing over at Scott, immediately noticing just how adamant he was on finding a solution. Without needing much thought, she grabbed a hold of his hand and squeezed. "Scott, you really don't have to try and make me feel better, you know that, right? I'm fine. Honestly. I haven't even thought about it since last night."

Lies.

More lies.

Scott laughed softly, almost mechanically. "You're such a bad liar. You believe that you have every fooled in thinking that you're completely fine with the fact that Lydia had predicted your death not twelve-hours ago."

"That's because I am, Scott." Carter said, felling her lips tug down into a frown as she kept her eyes on the brown-eyed boy, finally entering a conversation that would postpone her revealing her plan to him long enough for her to properly think up a way to tell him. "And I know that's the most miserable defense you've ever heard, but it's true."

He sighed, but his body went completely rigid. "I don't care about how much you accept this situation, I would rather die a hundred times over than let you die because you gave up. You've stopped fighting, Carter."

Carter recoiled from him when he said that, but that only made him wrapped his arms around her and make her look at him. "It was easier when you would risk anything and everything to stay alive—to keep fighting."

Carter sighed.

They stared at each other for a long moment. His hand smoldered against her skin. In her face, she knew there was nothing but wistful sadness—she didn't want to have to say goodbye now, not ever. At first his face reflected hers, but then, as neither of them looked away, his expression changed.

He released her, lifting his other hand to brush his fingertips along her cheek, trailing them down to her jaw. She could feel his fingers tremble—not with anger this time. He pressed his palm against her cheek, so that her face was trapped between his burning hands.

"Caterina," he whispered.

She was frozen.

No! She hadn't wanted this to happen. She didn't know if she could do this, and now she was out of time to think. She stared back at him. He was not her Scott—not anymore. His face was familiar and beloved. In so many real ways, she did love him. He had always been her comfort, her safe harbor. After tonight, true love was forever lost. Her prince—her meant to be—would never be able to kiss her awake from her enchanted sleep after tonight. And she was not a princess, after all.

Maybe it would be easy—like holding his hand or having his arms around me. Maybe it would feel nice. Maybe it wouldn't feel like a betrayal. And it was more of a goodbye than anything else, because after that night—she wouldn't be able to face the consequences.

Keeping his eyes on hers, Scott began to bend his face toward her. And she was still absolutely undecided.

The low rumbling of growling made them both jump and completely break their focus. Shards of glass were displayed along the ground before either of them could understand what had happened. Scott's grip on Carter tightened to a lethal degree as he whirled around so that his body was facing the destruction and she was somewhat protected. It was almost sickening to the stomach that it was an instinctive reaction; that there had been so much danger in their lives that it came to the last resort of his body immediately setting to default.

How stupid could she have been to believe that her night to say goodbye would go according to plan? How did she not sense the threat? Smell the Berserker? Feel Kate's power?

Kate and the Berserker stepped through the shattered glass; her sharpened teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Carter felt her face go hard, and she pulled herself away from Scott taking a step forward.

Kate tilted her head at the teenage girl, recognizing a challenge when she saw one. "You have some serious balls, Hale, to think you can beat me."

Carter smirked, bringing herself even closer to the Were-Jaguar, their chests almost brushing. "No, maybe not balls—per-say—I'm just not afraid of you."

"Oh, really?"

"I mean, come on," Carter scoffed. "You're just a cat—an ugly cat."

Within seconds, Carter was sent flying backward, colliding roughly against the floor. Skidding across the ground until she smacked against the table behind her. She felt her eyes burns, the aching sensation in her gums and the pain at her fingertips—and before she knew it, she had shifted. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Scott shifting, immediately attacking the Berserker on his own.

Carter licked her fangs, cracking her neck as she pulled herself to her feet. "Now, that's more like it."

A sneer formed on Kate's purple lips, a low growl erupting from her throat. Carter bent her knees, preparing herself for the attack. And without a second's chance, Kate was charging toward the brunette, her claws protruding—fangs bared with her sights set on the Were-Pheanix. Carter cocked her head, taking one step forward before she sunk her claws into Kate's abdomen, but gasp in pain as the Were-Jaguar did the same to her.

"Why do you want him so bad?" Carter growled, sinking her claws even further into Kate's stomach—her fingers almost completely inside the woman's abdomen; hand and arm covered in warm blood. "Why were you so concerned that he had died?"

"Oh, honey, I wish I could tell you." Kate grinned, using her unoccupied claws to swipe four precise cuts across Carter's face. She howled in pain, stumbling away from the woman, using the back of her hand to wipe the blood out of her eyes. Kate beamed in triumph before slamming her knee into Carter's chest. The oxygen was forcefully lurched out of the brunette's lungs, falling back to the floor.

The instant Carter was lying helplessly on the ground, Scott was shoving himself up onto his feet and was immediately barreling toward Kate. He reared back to punch her, but Kate quickly dodged his attempt and landing her own punch to his jaw. She growled lowly, Scott finally managing to land a punch—sending her flying into the wall adjacent to them. When she scrambled to her feet, Scott went after her once more.

Carter continued to blink, trying desperately to get the blood out of her eyes. She squeezed them shut—the burning in her eyes becoming almost unbearable, so much she had completely forgotten about the pain from the cuts on her face. Despite practically being blind, she could feel the Berserker moving in on her. Its powerful stench invading her senses.

When the sound of Kate throwing Scott into the wall reached her ears, Carter pushed herself up. She turned herself around to face the encroaching Berserker, the creature taking notice that she had finally gotten back on her feet. Her heart thudded rapidly in her chest, noticing Scott in a heap on the floor through the corner of her eyes. He was slumped against the wall, busy trying to deflect Kate's blows. The brief moment of distraction was long enough for the Berserker to reach out and wrap its bony fingers around her throat.

A strangled cry left her lips when she felt a bony-foreignly-shaped object being jammed into her side. She managed to look down enough to see a large bone-dagger was protruding out of her side. She screamed out in pain as the Berserker kept twisting the blade deeper into her side. It suddenly yanked her to the ground, her knees colliding against the concrete floor. The creature forced her to look up at Kate as she stood over Scott. For a brief second, their eyes locked.

"What do you want from us?" Scott asked, finally glancing up at Kate, groaning in pain.

"I want a little bit of insight, Scott."

"To what?"

"My family," Kate began, her voice and face hardening. "The Argent family has been around for over four-hundred years. A powerful, wealthy, aristocratic family of werewolf hunters. But yet somehow, in less than a year, this great family is decimated by a teenage boy."

Carter rolled her burning eyes, managing a scoff: "Oh, cry me river."

Kate snarled at her, secretly commanding the Berserker to punish her. Carter blinked rapidly and glanced up to see the Berserker rearing its arm back—agony engulfed Carter's entire body as the creature fired its fist into the side of her face; her head whipped to the side at the impact. Scott hollered out, enraged by situation. He made a move to rush to her aid, but was stopped when a clawed hand placed itself upon his chest, pushing him back down to the ground.

Kate crouched down, leveling herself with Scott. "So my question is simple: what the hell si so special about Scott McCall?"

"You want me? Take me. Just me. Leave Carter here."

Carter swore her heart plummeted into her feet.

"Oh, no, we're all going. We're all going to church!"

○ ○ ○

not edited

omg im so sorry that it took me soooooo long to update. ive been crazy busy and have been super un-motivated to write anything, so i hope this chapter isn't too crappy. hopefully i only have two more chapters left of reaping innocence part one! whoo, im so ready to get season four over with. and im ready to see how you guys react to the end of part one!