"𝒾𝒻 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓈𝓀ℯ𝒹 𝓂ℯ 𝓉ℴ, 𝒾'𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓋ℯ 𝓊𝓅 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔"

Ophelia finds Lydia and Stiles in one of the private rooms of the hospital being examined by Melissa McCall by a flashlight. The nurse is moving the light between the Stiles' eyes to determine whether he has a concussion or not as Ophelia bursts inside. Everyone jumps in shock as the door slams against the wall. "Fi!" Stiles yells.

She sheepishly smiles. "Sorry." Her eyes shine with concern as she glances between her two friends. She quickly lunges forward to grab them both into a tight hug, only pulling away when Melissa demands her to be gentle. "What happened? Are you okay? Who do I need to kill? No, that's not the question, tell me where they are and I'll go... visit them."

After Melissa gives Ophelia a change of clothes to get out of her gasoline soaked ones, they tell her exactly what had gone down at Eichen house just an hour earlier. Whilst Ophelia, Scott, Malia, and Liam were trying to avoid being murdered, so were Lydia and Stiles. They had figured out, with the help of Parrish, that the names on the fourth and final part of the dead pool were all linked to Eichen House, and that they were all names belonging to the dead.

After bribing Brunski at Eichen, they had been let in to look at patient files. Lydia had quietly explained that Brunski had trapped and tied them up, then forced her to listen to the tape of her grandmother's death.

Whilst Melissa firmly instructs Stiles to lie down after diagnosing him with a concussion, Ophelia lets Lydia curl up into her arms as they're given a moment alone with just the three of them. "Hold on," the hybrid interrupts. "So Brunski isn't The Benefactor?"

Stiles sighs. "Nope."

Ophelia shakes her head in disbelief. "But you're saying that Meredith is? The Meredith that was declared dead a few days ago?"

"Not actually dead anymore."

She stares at the white wall in front of her. "What the fuck..."

Lydia lays her head on her best friend's shoulder. "Tell me about it," she murmurs.

"Okay, so where is she now?"

"My dad took her to the station," Stiles says.

Ophelia glances to Lydia and squeezes her hand. "You want to go, don't you?" she asks softly.

The banshee turns her body to meet her green eyes. "Can you... Can you come with me?"

She gives her a small smile. "Of course. Stiles, stay here." The boy opens his mouth, and she narrows her eyes. "Don't even bother. I'll come back later, okay?"

His eyes widen as they go to leave. "Wait-wait, can you..." He grimaces. "Can you give me some blood?"

Ophelia's lips curl up in amusement at his hesitation. "I thought you didn't like my blood?"

"Well, I don't, but I'm kind of in a bit of pain right now and..." He trails off and sighs. "Actually, the more I talk about it, the less appealing it sounds." Stiles' lips purse. "Could you maybe take some of the pain instead, please?"

Without a word, Ophelia moves to sit beside him on the bed and takes his hand. They all watch as black veins travel from his fingers and over onto her arms. After a minute of absorbing the discomfort of the concussion, Ophelia smiles at him and gently pats his shoulder. "Just because you can't feel it, doesn't mean you're still not injured though, all right? Listen to Melissa and don't do anything rash."

He sighs and lays back. "Fine," he grumbles.

After Melissa tells them both that she would keep a watchful eye on Stiles, the girls leave the hospital with the plans to go and see Meredith Walker.

However, as soon as the door to Ophelia's Porsche shuts, Lydia breaks down in tears. Ophelia's eyes widen and she quickly starts to brush the salty drops away. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

Lydia looks up to her and a quiet sob leaves her lips. "H-He made me listen to it," she says hoarsely. "I heard her die."

Ophelia closes her eyes for a brief second and pulls the girl into a gentle embrace, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she tries to comfort her. "You don't have to talk about it, love."

She hears her inhale a sharp breath. "He was going to kill us," Lydia whispers. "Make it look like suicides."

And then she notices the tiny, almost invisible puncture mark on Lydia's neck. Ophelia's jaw clenches tightly in a rage. Over the last few weeks, they've all narrowly escaped the hands of death far too many times. And she can see that the number of traumatic experiences is driving Lydia to her breaking point. "I'm going to kill him."

Another tear drops down Lydia's cheek as she looks at her. The sheer amount of anger on Ophelia's face makes her flinch ever so slightly. "No, you can't," she responds. "He's already dead. Parrish shot him."

"Good riddance."

This brings the smallest of smiles to Lydia's lips. "About time, too."

As they drive to the Sheriff's station, Ophelia thinks about how ecstatic Malia will be when she tells her that the head orderly at Eichen House was not just a serial killer but is finally dead. She has to smile herself. But then the smile falls as she glances to Lydia who remains silent for the rest of the ride. She can't believe that something like this had happened. It shouldn't have happened. She should have been there to protect them. Then she thinks back to what Stiles had told her yesterday afternoon. She can't be everywhere all at once.

However, she had chosen to go to a party instead of helping Lydia and Stiles. But if she had gone with Lydia and Stiles, she wouldn't have been able to help fight off the assassins at the bonfire, nor would she have been able to contact anyone to help them. She realises that either way someone would have gotten hurt. It's a lose-lose scenario.

Before she can spiral any further, they pull to a stop in front of the station. Ophelia takes the keys out of the ignition and turns to the strawberry blonde. "You ready?"

Lydia takes in a deep breath and after a few moments she nods. "Yeah, let's go do it."

As they enter through the front doors, the warm, orange glow of the sunrise streams through the windows, making it seem like they're almost walking atop of gold. The bullpen is completely empty, so the two girls beeline over to the Sheriff's office. They see the curl covered head belonging to Meredith Walker as Noah Stilinski converses with her. A few seconds later, he emerges with no surprise upon seeing them waiting for him.

Ophelia's eyes immediately catch the sling on his right arm. She desperately tries to stop the guilty thoughts pass through her head. Noah catches her looking and clears his throat. "I'm glad you weren't set on fire," he tells her with a smile.

She quietly laughs. She's glad he didn't say anything. "Me too, Sheriff."

Lydia smiles slightly as her eyes flick between them. Then she anxiously asks, "What did she say?"

"Hard to tell," Stilinski answers with a frustrated sigh. "There were words. I'm not sure there were actual sentences."

Ophelia gazes at Meredith's back through the window. "So we have nothing," she gathers.

"I think we need a psychologist," he declares, grabbing the nearest phone from a desk. "Or a medium."

"Is she even competent enough to be charged with something?" Lydia questions.

He places the phone back. "If Meredith is The Benefactor, then that means she was competent enough to trick Kate into opening the Hale vault, competent enough to blackmail Brunski into helping her, and competent enough to create a hit list and pay out money for its completion." Noah gestures a hand back to his office. "This girl's practically a criminal mastermind."

They're silent for a minute as both teenagers begin to understand how right he really is. "There's got to be a reason why she would do this," Lydia says softly.

"I'm only interested in the 'why,' if it tells me the 'how.'"

"You mean how to stop it," Ophelia points out.

He nods and his eyes stay on her as he says, "After what happened to you guys tonight, this thing's still going." She sighs. "The payments could be automatic. And as long as the killers are getting paid, and paid very well, that list is gonna keep getting smaller."

"We don't just need to stop the dead pool," Lydia realises.

"We need to stop the money."

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Lydia had promised that she would be okay to be left alone with Noah and Parrish to continue trying to get Meredith to talk, so Ophelia made the return to the hospital for Stiles. Malia had messaged her to say that she was also going to visit him with the hopes of letting him explain why they had kept her in the dark about Peter Hale. Since the rather heated final words she had had with Scott last night, Ophelia hadn't talked to him. And he hadn't made any effort in contacting her, either. They both needed their space. Liam had said he was okay and that he was with Mason, so at least a sliver of concern could be washed away. Now she could place all of her concentration of figuring out how to put a cease to the supernatural hit list.

As she walks down the hallway to Stiles' room, she finds Melissa closing the door. But what makes her eyes widen in both confusion and surprise is when the woman locks it behind her. Melissa turns around and quietly yelps in shock at the brunette standing directly behind her. "Wow, you are good at sneaking up on people."

Ophelia hums, eyes narrow with suspicion. "What's going on?"

Melissa ushes her away from the door and sighs. "I locked them both in there," she says.

"Both?" Ophelia repeats in confusion. But then she hears Malia. "Oh." Her eyes widen. "Oh. Are they..."

Melissa nods. "Yep. I've got to continue rounds, but I'll let you be the one to unlock it when they've talked." Her eyes linger on Ophelia's face as she hesitates. Then instead of saying anything else, she grabs the girl's shoulders and brings her into a brief tight hug. "I'm really glad you're okay, sweetheart," she whispers.

Ophelia smiles. "Thanks, Mel," she murmurs back. As the nurse hurries away, she can hear her friends talking inside the room and she thinks that locking them inside is possibly one of the best decisions Melissa McCall has made.

"You don't just accidentally lock a door, Stiles!" Malia points out.

"Okay, well, maybe, she wasn't thinking, exactly. Or wasn't thinking it through," he begins to ramble. "You know, people sometimes do things without thinking them through."

Ophelia grins as Malia retorts, "Then she's stupid."

"No, even smart people can do stupid things! You know, 'cause they think that it's the right thing. And I don't think we should hold it against her, you know, for the rest of her life! Especially because she's tried apologising hundreds of times through texts and voicemails."

"I don't have much practise in things like... forgiveness," Malia says. "Some things I'm picking up fast. Like my hearing. Hi, Fi." The hybrid's smiles falls. "But other things are like..."

"Like math?" Stiles suggests. Even though he's just learnt his best friend is outside, he still jumps when she barges inside. The lock on the door is definitely broken now.

"We hate math!" Ophelia exclaims, emphasising each word. Malia's lips curl upward slightly at her use of 'we.'

The boy smiles. He turns back to Malia. "So... forgiven?"

After a long moment of silence, she nods. "Forgiven."

Stiles lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank God because I was getting worried that you were either going to destroy something of mine, punch me, or kill me." His eyes widen at the thoughtful expression on Ophelia's face. "No, why are you looking at me like that? Stop looking at me like that!"

As they wait for Stiles' CT scan and then the results of it, they debrief with what had happened at the bonfire, and Stiles informs Malia of what had happened at Eichen. When Ophelia had gotten to the part about Freya bursting into the high school and killing the assassins, Stiles' jaw had dropped. But surprisingly, he had understood Freya's motives. Ophelia wouldn't ever admit it to herself, but she had always been closer with Stiles than Scott. Purely because she knows that Scott would never truly accept her due to who she is. He would never accept that her natural instinct is to kill. And that's okay, she's okay with that, even if it means that she knows he would silently judge her for the rest of their lives.

Once they make it back to the Stilinski residence, Stiles inserts the tape marked with 'Lorraine Martin' into the player. It's the one Brunski had played for him and Lydia. "Are you sure you're okay to do this?" Ophelia asks him in concern.

He nods. "We have to." And then he presses play.

"Let's go, Lorraine," Brunski orders.

"Listen to me. Please listen. There's something I have to do, something I have to stop."

"I have to take you back to Eichen, Lorraine."

Stiles increases the volume, all of them listening intently to the recording.

"No. No," the woman says. "I don't think you're gonna be taking me anywhere. I can hear the recorder in your pocket. It's on now, isn't it? You're making a tape, just like you taped the others."

Stiles reaches over and stops the recording. "This didn't happen at Eichen House," he realises.

Ophelia's brows furrow as she glances to him. "Well, where the hell were they?"

"That's what we need to find out."

They listen to the tape recording over a dozen times trying to pinpoint a detail, no matter how small, that might give them an answer. Both of the girls stare at the tape player in concentration, each using their enhanced hearing to try and notice something that perhaps Stiles might not.

"... back to Eichen, Lorraine."

"No. No. I don't think you're gonna be taking me anywhere."

Ophelia's eyes widen. "That's it," she interrupts.

Malia quickly nods, also having heard the discreet noise. "Play it again and turn it up," she tells him. The hybrid leans forward in her chair as Stiles does as he was instructed and turns up the volume once more.

"No. No. I don't think you're gonna be taking me anywhere. I can hear the recorder in your pocket."

As Lorraine speaks, she can hear the noise in the background. It's subtle, extremely subtle, but it's a sound that Ophelia has become accustomed to so much over the last few weeks that she would be able to recognise it anywhere. "It's the record player," she says.

Stiles turns the tape off and glances to her. "What record player?"

"The one in the lake house!" Malia exclaims. "In the study."

He leans back in his chair, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "So she escaped from Eichen House to go back to listen to a record player?"

"Well, she was like Lyds, right? She was a banshee?"

Stiles nods. "Yeah, but only once," he points out. "She predicted Maddy's death and then just spent decades trying to predict something else."

Malia locks eyes with the hybrid. "Maybe she finally did," she blurts out, excited to explain their revelation. "And what if this time, it wasn't just one death, it was a lot of deaths?"

The girls stare at him pointedly as they wait for him to catch on. Suddenly, Stiles' eyes widen. "Like the dead pool."

"What if all those years ago, Lorraine predicted it?" Ophelia continues as she wrings her hands out in front of her. "And she knew that there was something in her study that could stop it."

Stiles immediately grabs the keys to the Jeep off the desk. "Then we're going to the lake house," he declares. Ophelia and Malia share a grin.

And then she looks down to her phone to see the messages from Derek. Ophelia gestures to the pair to go downstairs. She needs to make a call. Klaus picks up straight away. "Nik, hey, I need a favour."

The Mikaelson family are like fireworks. They either look pretty (they always look pretty) and work together harmoniously or fail and go catastrophically wrong.

"Ah, I knew it wouldn't take long before you came crawling back to me."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You got Freya to do the dirty work last night."

Klaus being annoyed that their sister killed someone last night instead of him isn't catastrophic though. It's just plain pettiness. A scowl paints her face. "Oh, come on, I didn't ask her to kill them."

"Sure."

"Yeah, Fi, you know I'm the guy to call when you need someone murdered," Kol yells out.

She rolls her eyes in annoyance. "Look, I haven't slept in over forty-eight hours so I really don't have the energy. Can you help me or not?"

Klaus hesitates. She can almost see the smug grin on his face. "Only because you asked so nicely."

"Scott might be in some trouble."

"What's new?"

"Shut up. Could you go and see if everything's okay? I'll send the location."

"Need a few corpses?"

"No," Ophelia says firmly. "I'm serious." Her next words are to appease Scott McCall. "No dead bodies unless you absolutely need to. It's a last resort. I don't even know if there's anyone there that you need to kill!"

"Well, that's not a party," Kol complains.

"It can still be a party. Snatch, eat, erase."

The Original vampire grimaces. "You hung out around the Salvatore brothers for too long," he scolds.

But surprisingly, Niklaus agrees to keep things civil. "You got it, Lia. Everything all right on your end?"

She smiles. "I've got to go destroy a dead pool."

"That sounds like a very Mikaelson thing to proclaim."

"What can I say, I've been embracing the family name."

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Ophelia wants to punch something. They had been staring and listening to the blank record for what must be close to an hour and a half by now. She's so bored that she wants to attack the record player itself. But then of course that wouldn't speed the process up.  

Stiles finally voices his own impatience. The boy stands up and shakes his head. "What are we doing?" he asks rhetorically. "This room wasn't even made for us! No, we need someone like Lydia or Meredith, and we're just sitting here listening to a stupid record player play a record that doesn't play anything!" He flips the switch to turn the record player off. "Come on, there's plenty of other things we can be totally useless doing."

As Stiles opens the door, Ophelia's eyes squint. She grabs onto Malia's wrist to stop her from following after him. "Do you hear that?" she whispers. Somewhere in the room is producing a faint whirring sound, and it's not the record player.

After a few seconds, Malia nods when she notices it. "Stiles," she calls out.

Rubbing his forehead, Stiles backtracks into the room, annoyance etched onto his face as he looks at them. "Yes?"

"We can still hear it."

His brows furrow. "But it's not on," he says.

One of Ophelia's eyes twitches. "No shit," she retorts dryly. He gives her a mocking smile.

Malia rolls her eyes at their bickering. "Well, it's something else."

"Something spinning," Ophelia adds.

Stiles notices them looking directly at the wall behind the record player, so he moves closer to try and look around the small table. Behind it, he finds a black cable that runs through the wall. After staring at it curiously for another few seconds, he pushes the table aside to get better access to it.

The girls watch him crouch down to examine it, then he glances back to them. Finding them just as confused as he is, Stiles tugs the cord which immediately cracks the drywall. He looks back to his friends once more and Ophelia shrugs. What harm could it do aside from Natalie Martin killing them for destroying her home even further than they already have?

Stiles continues to pull on the cord, cutting through the wall like a knife does through butter. A long vertical line had been created in the drywall, and once he reaches the end of the cord, Malia and Ophelia quickly help to assist him with tearing it away. Once they've created a hole, they all stop and step back at what they find behind the wall. Three large, old-fashioned computers stand, the disks inside spinning away.

Ophelia stares at it in confusion. "What the fuck is this?"

"The dead pool," Stiles responds. "It's the dead pool."

Before any kind of a plan can be expressed, Stiles' eyes widen as horror as both girls' fists shoot through the air toward the computers. He manages to grab onto both their wrists at the same time, sending them incredulous looks as he exclaims, "You can't just smash it to pieces!"

Ophelia frowns. "Why not?" Malia vigorously nods along.

"Because if this thing's being used to disseminate the list, then it's probably gonna keep going until everyone's dead."

"Then what do we do?" Malia queries.

"It needs some kind of prompt or command or something, right?" The werecoyote moves closer and Stiles' flinches, automatically assuming that she's going to try and attack the computers again. "No! No, no..."

Instead, Malia points to the top of the middle machine that has a small keyhole. "What about a key?" she suggests.

A problem quickly presents itself. They're in a house that isn't theirs. They have no idea where they could possibly find a key. It doesn't take long for Lydia to pick up the incoming FaceTime call from Ophelia. The group of three hurriedly explain to her what was going on, and the hybrid moves the phone across the room so Lydia can see each of the devices. "See it?"

Stiles moves closer so he's in view of the phone's camera. "There's gotta be a way to turn it off, right?"

"I don't know," Lydia replies. Her heels clack against the flooring as she moves away from the Sheriff's office. "I don't know anything about computers from the nineteen-seventies."

Malia places her chin on Ophelia's shoulder so she can look at the banshee. "Neither do we," she retorts.

"Okay, where's the monitor?"

Stiles snatches the phone out of Ophelia's hand, ignoring the look she gives him, and begins to pace around the room. "Lydia, there is no monitor," he stresses. "There are buttons, knobs, spindles, no monitor."

He turns the camera around to point it back to the wall of disks. "Wait, turn the phone back," Lydia says suddenly. "Point it toward the carpet."

"The what?"

"The floor! Just show me the floor." Stiles quickly follows her instruction. "Where's the stain?" Lydia asks after a moment. "There should be red blotches, a wine stain."

The three teenagers in the study share a look of confusion as they try to find the stain that Lydia swears is there. The carpet is pristine white. "Lyds, there's nothing there," Ophelia tells her.

"But that doesn't make sense," she murmurs to herself. "I gave the five-hundred dollars I was supposed to use to hire cleaners to Brunski."

"Lydia, what the hell does wine have to do with anything?"

"Red wine doesn't just disappear," she argues. Ophelia finally takes her phone back from Stiles and watches the strawberry blonde lift her head as realisation dawns upon her. "Unless it wasn't wine."

"What?" Stiles blinks. "What do you mean?"

"The ashes weren't ashes. The study isn't a study. The record player isn't a record player. So... so maybe the wine wasn't wine." Lydia's voice is filled with urgency as she says, "You have to find the wine. There could be something about it."

Ophelia quickly nods. "Okay, what kind? What's the name?"

"It's a nineteen-eighty-two Cotes du Rhone."

Promising Lydia that they'll update her soon, Stiles sprints out of the study with a determined nod. The girls listen to him stumble down the stairs then fling open cupboards, and a minute later, he bursts back into the room with the wine bottle in his hand. "I think there's something inside," he says as he rattles the bottle. "Do you have, like, a wine opener or-"

Malia impatiently grabs the bottle from him and smashes it onto the floor. The red liquid inside, that isn't wine after all, instantly stains the carpet red. Ophelia quickly crouches down and carelessly digs through the shards of glass, grinning triumphantly as she pulls out a silver key.

Before anyone can say anything, she hurries over to the wall of computers and doesn't hesitate to insert it into the keyhole. Ophelia glances back to the pair behind her, all of them sharing a nervous look before she takes a deep breath and turns the key. They watch in shock as the three computers power down and the disks finally stop spinning. "We did it," she states in bewilderment. "It's over? It's all over?"

Stiles grabs his phone as it buzzes and holds up a message from Scott, confirming just that. "It's over," he says with a sigh of relief.

Ophelia meets Malia's eyes and both of them share a small smile. They're no longer worth millions of dollars.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

When she gets home, the first thing she wants to do is shower. It's been a long few days. What she doesn't expect to see is Scott waiting in her driveway stood beside his dirt bike. As the engine to the Porsche shuts off, he takes a deep breath and watches Ophelia get out. "Hey," he says quietly.

"Hey."

He clears his throat. "Are you, uh, are you okay?"

"I'm good." There's a moment of silence. "Are you okay?"

Scott runs a hand down his face that is spattered with dried blood. "I hate this," he confesses. "I'm sorry about last night, how I reacted and how I was toward you..."

Ophelia sighs. "It's okay, Scott."

"But it's not okay-"

"Scott." He quickly shuts his mouth. "I get it. You're not a fan of violence, and that's okay. I'll admit I am occasionally a fan of violence. Maybe a little too often." Her eyes meet his. "But I'm not asking you to be okay with the fact that I'm okay with it."

He nods. "I know," he says quietly. "I'm still sorry."

She takes a step toward him. "I know," she responds softly. "Do you want to come in? You look like you've had a hell of a day."

Scott cracks a smile. "It's okay, I've got to get home."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, eyes flicking down to his shirt that is also painted with crimson.

"How do you keep it together?"

Ophelia frowns. "Keep what together?"

"The animal side of you. The side of you that doesn't want to always be human."

She puffs out a breath of air and walks over to lean against the garage door beside him. "Well, for me, I don't keep it together. I really don't, Scott. I'm as much of the animal side of me as I possibly can be. But I think you need to have an outlet."

He turns his head to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"You've got emotions bottled up inside of you. I can feel it. And I'm guessing that isn't your blood." She nods when his eyes flick down to the ground. "So you need to find ways to avoid getting to that point, the point where all you want to do is just take it out on someone. It doesn't have to be violence, you could talk or vent, but you need to release it somehow." A beat of silence passes. "That way you don't become someone like me."

The weight of her words hits him hard. And Scott realises that she still believes that he sees her as a monster. In a way, he does. But he also sees the other sides to her, the best sides of her, the sides of her that led to them being best friends. "I've been a shitty friend," Scott whispers.

Ophelia's frown deepens as she turns to look at him. "I wouldn't go that far... I probably have, too. But I'd rather us talk about this and argue about it instead of it going unsaid." She nudges his side gently. "And in my defence, I really have been trying to keep the murders to a minimum."

A smile ghosts his face. "I know. And I really appreciate it." This time, she's the one to smile. "Thanks for sending everyone, by the way."

"What did happen? Because Derek said you guys were at Argent's warehouse and thought assassins might know where you were."

Scott waves a hand. "Let's just say that if your siblings didn't show up, things would've been a lot worse." He pauses. "And I know what you told them," he adds softly.

Ophelia arches a brow. "Do you now?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's the first time I've seen Klaus try to hold himself back from killing someone. He looked like he was in physical pain."

She snorts. "Please tell me you got a picture."

"I should've just filmed the whole thing for you." They both laugh and any sort of tension or awkwardness leaves the air around them. She'd missed this. And as she looks to Scott, she thinks that he had missed it as well.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The next few days are peace and quiet. Without the looming threat of the dead pool hanging over their heads like a permanent storm cloud, the supernatural creatures residing in Beacon Hills can finally breathe. Malia Tate no longer felt anxious that she was going to be murdered (after all her friends), and she was no longer terrified that she would find Ophelia's corpse rotting away in her home. She could finally return to life like it was before.

Something that she had begun to work on weeks ago was trying to shift back into her coyote form. The second Ophelia had offered to help teach her, Malia couldn't say yes fast enough. Ever since she had been transformed back into a human, she had been itching to run through the forest on four legs, especially when she would see Ophelia as the white wolf so often.  

"Okay, you want to have a clear picture in your mind. Think about what it feels like. The fur, the claws, the teeth; everything. Think about how it makes you feel as well. For me, the more emotion I have attached to it, the easier it is to shift. Like, being a wolf makes me feel free. Lock onto that feeling and don't let it go."

Malia nods and takes a deep breath. Her eyes close as she tries to remember what being a coyote was like. She tries to remember how it felt to hunt deer, or how it felt to playfully chase flocks of birds. Ophelia stays silent as she watches the girl's lips purse in concentration. A minute later, Malia groans in frustration and opens her eyes. "I can't do it," she complains. "Why can't I do it?"

"You're anxious," Ophelia says. "You're overthinking about it."

Malia's brows knit together. "But you said to think about it."

"Yeah, but you don't want to think about the actual shift itself. You want to think about what it's like once you're the coyote. Focus on the endgame." Ophelia gives her a comforting smile. "You've got this, love."

Ten minutes pass by and Malia only manages to unsheathe her claws. She drops down onto the leafy ground in defeat. Ophelia sits down beside her. "Why can't I do it?" she whispers. "Is that part of me broken or something?"

She places her hand on Malia's cheek to turn her head toward her. "It's not broken," she replies firmly. "It just hasn't been used in a while. You will get it, I promise you. You just need a little patience."

Malia sighs and lets her head drop onto Ophelia's shoulder. "I don't like being patient," she mumbles.

"I know."

"You don't like being patient either."

"I know."

With a frown etched onto her face, Malia turns her head slightly to look into her eyes. "So why are you still here?"

Ophelia smiles. "I thought we went through this. I'm not leaving you. I'm never leaving you."

Even though she's heard it before, she still feels the shock rip through her body like she's been slapped on the face. Malia can't begin to fathom why she would stay. And it's like Ophelia can read her mind, because she then says,

"Because I love you. I'm in love with you." She watches Malia's eyes widen. "And I don't give up on the people I love."

A smile adorns Malia's face as her eyes dart across the girl's face. She quickly closes the little distance left between them to softly join their lips. Malia pulls away to pepper kisses over Ophelia's cheeks, the actions eliciting a giggle from her. When she stops, she stares into her green eyes with adoration. "I love you, too," she admits quietly.

Their lips lock once more, and as the sun sets over Beacon Hills, Malia's lays her head on Ophelia's shoulder once more. They both sigh in content. The Stone presses a kiss onto the side of Malia's head. "You're never getting rid of me, love."

"I wouldn't want to."

𝘞𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘍𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 🥰  𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 5-6! 𝘐𝘵'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘯