"𝑔ℴ𝒹, 𝒾'𝓂 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝓋ℯ𝓈𝓉ℯ𝒹"

She wakes up covered in blood. The ache spreading across her neck and shoulders appears the second she opens her eyes, but her vision is hazy, a cloud of poison tainted smoke wafting around her. She feels the slight breeze hit her skin, which only means that her clothes have been ripped with holes during any attempts to harm her. And then Ophelia remembers what had happened before her neck had been snapped. Her eyes glow a bright scarlet as she pushes herself to move despite the agony moving through her body, every breath she takes only ingesting more and more wolfsbane and vervain into her lungs.

But as soon as she lunges forward, she's abruptly pulled back. With anger flushing her cheeks, Ophelia glances down to find heavy-duty chains wrapped around her arms and legs, anchored to columns behind her. Her eyes are red, but not just with the colours of an Alpha or a vampire anymore. They're a blazing sunset of fury.

She can't help but cough, then hears a door open. She's in a small room, paint peeling off the walls and the floorboards barely holding themselves together. Malia is nowhere to be seen. Ophelia meets the eyes of a man that must be in his early twenties. No mask covers his face, and that fact worries her a little. Whoever has kidnapped them is comfortable enough about sharing their identity because they intend to kill them.

"Nice sleep?"

Her jaw tightens at the enjoyment lacing his tone. "Oh, fabulous," she sneers. He smiles. "Where is she?"

"Malia Hale?" It's Tate, she wants to snap at him. "Down the hall. We're still waiting for her to wake up." She gathers that they can't have been here for more than a few hours. "You know, to let you both go through painful deaths. Might as well get a bit out of it along with the money."

"If you lay a finger on her, I will-"

"No, you won't," he interrupts coolly. "Because the last time I checked, you're looking pretty comfortable there." Her body shakes with anger as she watches his lips curl into a smirk.

And then he quickly raises his pistol, and without any hesitation shoots a bullet straight at her.

Ophelia groans as she feels the metal imbed into her skull, and she coughs out a laugh despite the agony. With the sheer amount of toxins in the air, that's going to take a little longer to heal. The girl stops fighting against the chains and slumps backward. "If you haven't figured it out already, I'm pretty hard to kill. Which sucks for you 'cause it only means you're wasting ammunition."

The assassin scowls as he approaches her. He stops inches before her face. "An extra hour of torture means nothing when we get the eighty-four million dollars at the end," he whispers. "We'll be taking our time with you, Ophelia."

A fraction of the rage dissipates, and she hears his heartbeat pick up in fear at the sudden calmness that washes over her. "You've heard of me?" she speaks softly. A genuine smile spreads onto her face. "Oh, that's fantastic."

With her eyes blazing bright, the metal wrapping around her limbs suddenly snap in half. The links clatter onto the ground and she wrings her wrists out with a sigh.

Horror etched onto his face, the assassin stumbles back from her. "W- You- How did you get out of that?"

Ophelia coughs a few more times, but for some reason she can't feel pain anymore. Perhaps the adrenaline is masking it. "I'm special," she rasps with a chuckle. She watches him fumble for the radio attached to his belt and just as it clicks on, she snatches it away with an inhumane amount of speed and crumples it in her bare hands.

She can hear the footsteps thundering down the hallway and toward them, but all she can think about is that she needs to get to Malia.

Black veins of ivy trail down her cheeks and he swears under his breath. Ophelia arches a brow in amusement. "Never seen a hybrid before?" Her eyes pierce him until he gives a reluctant shake of his head. "Perfect. I can be your last memory!"

In a matter of seconds, her hand plunges into his body and rips the beating heart out of his chest. As he stares at her with wide eyes, she squeezes the organ until it bursts in her palm. The man collapses to the floor just as the blood sprays over her face. Only one thing is on her mind. If she's being treated like this, she's terrified to think of what Malia is being put through. She's furious that they've been able to get to her so easily. And for that, for even thinking that they could be able to kill her, she wants them all to die.

As she steps out of the room, Ophelia first hears the pin being pulled. Then she watches the grenade be tossed down the dark corridor. A thunderous roar leaves her jaws as it explodes with a bright light and fumes of toxic herbs. The group of humans clad in black race around the corner with their firearms gripped tightly in their hands, but falter ever so slightly at what they find waiting for them.

The girl looks so far from human, but that's because she isn't. Her humanity, though, is being held on by a thin thread.

Ophelia tears through them all in a matter of mere seconds, their screams ringing through her ears like a pleasant symphony. She kills them one by one with ease, each dying by teeth, claws, or her bare hands. And every body she sends tumbling to the ground, she feels another layer of blood spatter onto her body. She can taste the liquid in her mouth. It's intoxicating.

Ophelia barges into the room in front of her and instantly rips the head cleanly off the final assassin. Heavy breaths leave her blood coated lips as she lets it thud onto the floor. And then she spots her tied to the chair in the corner of the room.

She runs over to the girl with fear, quickly tearing the ropes off her body. Ophelia gently cups Malia's cheeks, not thinking about the stain of red they will leave behind, and their eyes lock. "Are you okay?" she asks, simply terrified. "Did they hurt you? If they hurt you-"

Malia places her hands on Ophelia's wrists, teeth biting into her lip nervously. "Is it your blood?" she interrupts.

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, and then she remembers that she quite possibly looks exactly like Kol would after a massacre. "No," she rushes out. "No, I'm okay. Did they hurt you?" she repeats more firmly.

The werecoyote shakes her head half-heartedly. Her eyes gloss over with tears. "No," she whispers. "Just when they knocked me out before."

Ophelia feels her heart even out. She's okay. She's okay. "I'm so sorry," she murmurs, eyes closing in disappointment that is directed to herself. "I'm so sorry they got to you. They never should have gotten to you."

Malia's eyes flick across her face as she watches her start to bury herself in a mountain of guilt, again. "Woah, this was not your fault," she says softly. "Okay? Lia." Ophelia's eyes open. "This was not your fault."

"Okay, but still-"

Malia doesn't want to listen to her argue because there is no scenario where Ophelia would ever be right. She hesitates for a second.

And then she kisses her.

Ophelia Stone didn't ever think that what is happening would ever happen. Never in her wildest dreams. She had spent the course of the last few months memorising the scent of Malia, how she could identify the girl in a crowd of thousands. She had spent the last few months memorising her face, how she has that one tiny freckle underneath her eyebrow, how her hair falls into her eyes if it grows out for too long, or how her nose scrunches up when she's concentrating on something too hard. Now, though, Ophelia can finally memorise the shape of her lips.

She doesn't realise that she had been holding her breath until Malia pulls away. With flushed cheeks and wide eyes, Ophelia stares at her, lips parted open in surprise. At her stunned silence, Malia hurriedly takes a step back to place some distance in between them. She swallows. "I'm sorry," she says quickly. "I shouldn't have done that. Let's just pretend it never happened-"

This time, Ophelia is the one to feverishly press their mouths together once more. And this time, Malia doesn't hesitate to reciprocate.

Her hands cradle Malia's face as she kisses her softly, the action holding so much love and passion that she would never be able to verbally explain it. She feels Malia's hands slide down her body and land on her hips, fingers gripping her skin in a possessive manner but not firm enough to bruise.

Ophelia feels human again, she feels light-headed like someone has drugged her. But she's beyond grateful that she's not. Because now she can see how time has dilated in this very moment. She feels so much more. Through her eyes, she sees a kaleidoscope of colours, bursting with vibrance and pure joy, that when she properly studies them, she realises represent her emotions; or one emotion. All she feels now is love.

After a few seconds, they pull away, foreheads resting against one another as they catch their breaths. "Please don't pretend that didn't happen," Ophelia whispers desperately. "Because if you forget, I think I'd lose my bloody mind."

Malia smiles at her. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and Ophelia's eyes follow the movement. "There's no way I'm forgetting that," she reassures quietly. "It was my first kiss. And second."

Ophelia's eyes widen. "That was your first kiss? Was it okay?"

A soft laugh leaves her mouth. It sounds like the most well-crafted piece of music. Malia wraps her arms around the girl's neck and pulls her closer again. "It was perfect," she murmurs.

And they lock lips again in a bliss, entirely unbothered by the dark blood that stains their skin. Because they're with each other, and that's all that matters.

By the time the two girls had walked over the masses of dead bodies and made their way outside, the sun was rising over the trees. Ophelia quickly realises that she had no idea where they were. None of their surroundings look familiar to her, and neither did it to Malia. Which lead them to believe that they were outside of Beacon Hills. They didn't have their phones on them, so there was no way to contact any of their friends or family.

They stroll down the dirt road hand in hand, a comfortable silence overtaking them as they think over the most recent events. What worries Ophelia the most is how quickly the assassins had managed to capture them. Sure, she had expected someone to come and try to kill her, but these were professionals. They sure as hell knew what they were doing. Grenades, flash arrows, wolfsbane... vervain. A few days ago, she had thought there was a limited number of assassins for the dead pool: The Mute or the 'teacher' who had poisoned everyone at the school the other day.

But now she's starting to think that it might be a little more complicated than just a few of them.

She must have killed at least a dozen men inside, men that had the right resources and an adequate amount of people. Perhaps it's everyone out to get them now. Maybe it's not just people that need the money anymore. Maybe everyone has a copy of the hit list.

Ophelia is ripped out of her bubble of thoughts by the sound of a twig snapping. She tugs Malia to a stop, the werecoyote looking to her nervously, still on edge from what had happened to them.

"No need to fret, ladies! I'm not a big, bad wolf like people make me out to be!"

"I don't know who you see when you look in the mirror, Nik, but that's exactly what you are. I'm shocked you don't terrify yourself every time you see your reflection."

"Oh, sod off, Kol."

"Both of you, stop the bickering. You're acting like children."

A wide smile adorns Ophelia's face as she and Malia watch three of the Mikaelsons step out onto the path. Freya grimaces and brushes stray leaves and branches off her, whilst Kol hums casually as he follows behind her. But the second Klaus lays eyes on his younger sister, his face mimics her own. "Oh, thank God you're okay," he says quickly. He rushes forward to meet her halfway, quickly wrapping her into a tight, suffocating hug. However, when he steps back, his eyes widen at the amount of blood coating her body. "Jesus fucking Christ, who did you kill?"

She grins. "I think the better question is who didn't I kill?"

Kol sighs proudly. "I've taught you well, sister," he states. Freya flicks the back of his head causing him to yelp in pain and smack her arm.

Malia glances between the three adults. Then she looks to the girl beside her. "Family?"

"Oh yeah." Ophelia's brows furrow in confusion. "Wait, what are you doing here? And how did you know we were here?" Her eyes widen. "Were you tracking me?"

Freya nods and gives her a small smile. "Long story short, we figured it wouldn't hurt to come for a visit with the dead pool and all. When you weren't home and we saw the scene... I did a locator spell."

Ophelia rolls her eyes playfully and lets Kol grab her into a headlock. He musses up her hair until she finally pushes him away. She greets Freya far more civilly, making sure she tries to avoid transferring any non-dried blood onto the witch's clothing. Then she remembers who stands next to her. "Oh! Guys, this is Malia," she introduces with a smile.

She stretches her hand out to them. But instead of the Mikaelsons shaking it like she had expected, Malia's eyes widen in surprise when Klaus pulls her into a brief hug. "We've heard a lot about you, Malia," he says teasingly.

Ophelia growls at him warningly. Kol snickers. "Oh yes, heaps," he adds.

"Leave her alone," Freya chides. She warmly smiles at the werecoyote. "It's lovely to properly meet you. We saw you as a coyote a few times."

Malia broadly smiles. "Nice to meet you, too," she says cheerfully. "Do you have a car? 'Cause I'd love a shower. And some breakfast. Do you have any deer?"

Niklaus grins and casually throws an arm around her shoulder as he leads them down the road. "I have a feeling we're going to get along," he declares. Ophelia quietly groans as Freya loops their arms together, the blonde-haired woman laughing at the despair on her sister's face.

During the twenty minute long ride back to her home, Ophelia learns that her siblings are here for a few days, just to make sure the dead pool doesn't get too out of hand. They're here to help if needed. It would be nice to have some proper brute strength, no offence to Scott. It's just Kol, Klaus, and Freya though, with the rest of the family looking after baby Hope. But it's just the familiarity and comfort that Ophelia needs.

As Freya gets to work and magically cleans up her home, both Ophelia and Malia take long showers to scrub off the remaining blood on their skin. When she eventually wanders down the stairs, the smell of waffles wafting into her nose, Ophelia sighs in content.

However, once she grabs her phone off the floor where it had been dropped last night, all sense of peace disappears. Messages and calls from her friends flood the screen as the device powers back on. There are hundreds.

The first few are informing her that Jordan Parrish had been lit on fire, then come out of it completely fine and unscathed. The next few are informing her that they were (hours ago) meeting up at Derek's loft to discuss the previously mentioned attempted murder. The rest of the other hundred are all asking her if she's okay since they haven't heard from either her or Malia.

When she gets to Stiles', though, Ophelia literally feels her heart drop into the pits of her stomach as she reads that Noah Stilinski had been shot at the station.

Guilt returns. She hadn't been there. She could have saved him. She could have taken away his pain. She could have healed him. Instead, he's in Beacon Memorial and, according to Stiles, about to go into surgery.

With a frown etched onto her face, Malia approaches her, her eyes glistening with worry. "What's wrong?"

Ophelia watches her sit down beside her on the couch. She glances to the glass doors leading outside and listens to the girlish shrieks from Kol and Klaus as they push each other into the pool. A faint smile ghosts her lips. "Well, uh, Stiles' dad was shot." Malia's eyes widen slightly and she takes the phone from her.

After reading through the explanations of the messages, she passes the device back and leans back with a sigh. "They can't survive without us, can they?"

Ophelia snorts. "They really can't," she agrees, thankful that the girl had managed to lighten the mood.

Malia entwines their fingers. "Is he okay?"

"Stiles says going into surgery," she responds quietly. "He will be, but I'll visit later." As soon as her phone rings, she doesn't hesitate to pick up. She's got a bit of explaining to do. "Lyds, hey, I'm so sorry-"

"Are you okay?" the banshee asks frantically. "I've been so worried, and none of us have heard from Malia, and we kind of thought the worst-"

"Actually, we were kidnapped. No worries though, they're all dead. Not us, and by us, I mean me and Malia. We're both okay. Sort of. Mostly."

Lydia breathes out a long sigh of relief. "Thank God," she mutters. She listens intently as Ophelia briefly recounts the night of being taken by assassins. And then Lydia explains to them about what she had found out last night. "It's why I was at the station with Stiles, we were trying to talk to the Sheriff. My grandmother faked her death."

The two girls on the couch sit still in silence. "Are you sure?" Ophelia questions.

Lydia hums. "She was a banshee, too. She predicted someone's death. No one could figure out how she knew, but then they found Meredith at Eichen House and brought her to the study at the lake house... and almost killed her. She was hospitalised for over a year, and I guess she just wasn't the same after." They hear Lydia's breath catch. "My grandmother drove her insane," she whispers. "And I drove her to suicide."

Ophelia feels tears spring to her eyes at the raw emotion in her best friend's voice. She feels Malia tighten the grip on her hand. "It wasn't your fault, Lyds," she tries to assure.

"But it was," Lydia says firmly. "And all she wanted to do was help. Look, I found something there, at the lake house. My grandmother created the code for the dead pool. I think she's the banshee that put all the names on it in the first place, and she left me a message in the same code."

"There's no key, is there?" Malia presumes.

"No, there isn't."

Ophelia shakes her head. "Wow, that's... I mean, it kind of makes a lot of sense when you explain it all," she says. "Okay, I'm gonna go see Scott and Liam at school later, are you all right? Do you need me to come over?"

She can almost hear Lydia smile. "No, no, I'm okay," she dismisses. "I'm going over to Stiles' and we're going to try and brainstorm the cipher key."

"Good luck, love."

"I'm glad you're okay, Lia," she says softly. "I'm glad both of you are."

"Me too," Malia confirms. "It would've sucked if we died."

Ophelia cracks a grin. She bids Lydia goodbye, then moves on to contacting the rest of her friends as they head over to dig into the mountain of waffles.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

After dropping Malia back to the Tate's residence, Ophelia drives straight to the hospital. A bouquet of daisies lay on the passenger seat next to her, a gift for Noah Stilinski. Just as she pulls the Porsche to a stop in the parking lot, she notices Stiles leaving the exit of the building for a break of fresh air. She grabs the flowers and hurries over to him.

It doesn't take him long to notice her, and when he does, his eyes widen. "Oh, my God, Fi," he exclaims in relief. A small smile lifts at his lips, but then it quickly falls. "Are you okay? Is Malia okay? Where were you?" So she tells him exactly what she had told Lydia earlier, only his reaction is far more dramatic. "You were kidnapped?" Stiles shrieks.

Ophelia scowls at him and ignores the multiple looks they receive from nearby people. "Keep it down," she scolds. She sighs when he stares at her incredulously. "We're fine, okay? Not too much damage physically."

His eyes widen further. "Not too much?" he shrieks once more. His voice lowers when she glares at him again. "They hurt you?" he asks seriously. She nods. "Jesus Christ..."

"Honestly, I think that name is kind of fitting for me in this particular scenario," she admits thoughtfully. He rolls his eyes. "Is your dad out of surgery?"

Stiles' entire demeanour changes. "Yeah, uh, yeah he is," he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's okay."

Ophelia closes her eyes briefly. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there," she tells him softly.

He shakes his head. "Fi, you can't be everywhere all the time. Plus, you were kind of busy."

But that doesn't do anything to the guilt festering away inside of her. She looks down to the flowers in her hands and makes an effort not to squeeze the stems too tightly. "I guess," she murmurs. "Can I go up and see him?"

"They said to let him rest, but I can go give the flowers to the nurses if you want."

Ophelia clears her throat and nods. "That would be great, thank you." Her lips purse as she ponders bringing up a suggestion that could be received in either way. "Does he- would he want any..."

As she trails off, he quickly understands what she's trying to say. "No, I don't think so," Stiles says quietly. Then he makes sure to quickly add, "I appreciate it, really, but I don't think he'd be comfortable. You know how he is with this sort of stuff."

She nods. "Yeah, that's okay. I just thought I'd offer, you know."

"I'm really glad you're okay," he reiterates.

Ophelia arches a brow. "I'm not an easy person to kill, Stilinski."

"I'm very aware," he confirms with a laugh. They share a smile.

"Oh, and if there's a crime scene reported soon regarding a massacre... I had nothing to do with it."

"Copy that."

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

She couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. It had been ingrained into her brain. It's like her soul has been permanently altered by a simple, yet so meaningful action. All she can think about is that hours earlier, Malia's lips had been on her own. There hadn't really been a chance to talk about it, but Ophelia isn't entirely sure how or if she wants to talk about it. She's never been good with vocalising her emotions. She knows her feelings for Malia are strong, but she also doesn't know if the girl is in the same boat as her.

Liam Dunbar sits on the stairwell, anxiously picking away at the strings on his lacrosse stick as he thinks back to his and Kira's encounter with the berserker at the hospital two days earlier. For a moment, he feels like he can't breathe.

Ophelia is so caught up in her own head that she doesn't notice the young werewolf, so much so that she literally trips over him.

Liam's eyes widen in panic as he feels her shoes dig into his back, then watches her tumble over his shoulder, grunting as she falls down the steps. He stands up in shock, dropping his lacrosse stick as he hurries down to her. "Shit, Fi, are you okay?" he asks worriedly.

Ophelia rubs the back of her head with a groan as she sits up, feeling the want to smile at just how concerned he is crouched next to her. "All good, sorry, my bad." As she leans back against the wall beside them, Liam follows. "Are you okay?" But instead of replying, he stays silent. She had asked him if she had hurt him, although he immediately thinks of in general. Her eyes soften. "Liam? What's going on?"

He closes his eyes and leans his head against the brick. "My printer went off by itself last night," he says quietly. "I couldn't turn it off. I hit the cancel button, but it just kept printing."

"Printing what?" He shifts so he can reach the back pocket of his jeans and hands her a folded piece of paper. With her brows furrowed, Ophelia takes it when he nods. But before she gets the chance to read it, a booming yell echoes down the hallway.

"What the hell is this?"

The pair share a look at Coach's voice and quickly abandon their conversation to hurry over to his office just down the hallway. Halfway, they run into Scott who had also heard the commotion. The Alpha's eyes meet Ophelia's in worry, and she gives him a subtle nod. His shoulders drop in relief because she's okay. The three teenagers stop in the doorway of the office, looking in to find Coach Finstock desperately trying to turn off his printer. The entire floor is covered in dozens and dozens of copies of the dead pool.

Coach hasn't noticed them, so Scott grabs one of the copies off the ground. Liam grabs both of their arms and leads them back to the stairwell so they can talk out of earshot. Ophelia places her sheet beside Scott's. "You see the difference?" Liam asks them.

"Derek's not on the list anymore," Scott realises.

And because she knows that Derek is quickly losing his status as a werewolf, Ophelia wonders if this means his power has now gone completely. If he's no longer on the dead pool, does that mean he's no longer supernatural?

"And I'm not worth three million," Liam adds. Ophelia can sense the strong waves of anxiety flooding off him. "It's eighteen now. Eighteen million dollars."

She sighs and pats his shoulder. "Welcome to the big leagues, buddy."

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Her stay at the high school had ended after just fifteen minutes. With Scott informing her that he would be back later for the bonfire celebrating the start of the lacrosse season, she had agreed that she would come too. After the twenty-four hours she's had, a party is exactly what Ophelia needs.

As she walks across the parking lot, her hand entwined with Malia's, Ophelia inhales a deep breath full of the scent of alcohol, smoke, blood, and the fresh air of the evening. "You know, Kol tried persuading me to let him come." Malia glances to her in amusement. "Yeah, I know, so I said no because he likely would've just turned this into a nightly feast for himself."

The werecoyote arches a brow. "Isn't that why you're here?"

"No, I've got you." Ophelia squeezes her hand. "I don't need someone else or their average blood." The flames of the bonfire cast a warm glow over Malia's face as she smiles. Ophelia thinks she looks like an angel.

As they immerse themselves amongst the crowd, Malia looks up to find her friend watching her closely. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're just so pretty." She watches a warm blush tint the girl's cheeks as she bashfully casts her eyes onto the ground. "What? It's true."

Malia bites onto her lip as she turns around to thread her fingers through the belt loops on Ophelia's shorts. "Dance with me," she says.

The hybrid grins. "Always."

They quickly lose themselves in the environment of teenagers and heavy music, high off the other's presence. It doesn't take either of them long before they drift closer together, their eyes locked intensely. Ophelia feels her heart jump. She's rarely ever nervous. But something about this girl, something about her makes her feel things that she's never felt before.

Malia's eyes flick down to Ophelia's red painted lips. With her arms wound loosely around her neck, she gently tugs her body closer. With the hundreds of people around them, they feel like the only two there. Brown eyes meet green again. "Can I?" she whispers.

Ophelia surges forward to capture her lips against her own. For something that is so new, it feels so normal. Her hands ghost down Malia's waist until they stop at her hips, pulling her impossibly closer. When they part for air, it's only for a few seconds before they return to the heated kisses they place on the other's body. Ophelia hears Malia's breath hitch as her fangs graze her neck, and it feels like the entire world stops moving.

As Scott reluctantly makes his way through the party, trying to find any of his friends, his eyes finally lock onto the two girls on the other side of the bonfire. He approaches them, but when he sees them pressed up against each other, he quickly spins back around.

Ophelia rolls her eyes as she watches the werewolf try to pretend like he had never seen them. She shares a look with Malia. "Scott!" she yells over the cacophony of sounds.

With a grimace, the boy slowly turns around. "Hey," he greets them hesitantly. He awkwardly looks between them. "Uh, are you having fun?"

Malia tears her eyes off the hybrid and looks to him. "Are you having fun?" Ophelia hears the girl's heart raise in anger, and she brushes their hands together. Malia takes a deep breath. Now isn't the time to argue with him for lying about Peter.

"I'm trying to make sure no one gets hurt," he replies, watching them both bounce on the balls of their feet. As much as they're trying to hide it, it's clear to him that they're a little irritated by his sudden arrival.

Ophelia hums. "That sounds like a hoot!"

"So, what are you guys doing here?" he asks genuinely. "I mean, we can't get drunk-"

"Scott, after the day I've had, I think I deserve a night off."

He quickly nods at his best friend's words. "Yeah, totally, that's not what I meant-"

"Back to the 'we can't get drunk' thing," Malia interrupts. She nods her head over to the bleachers to the side of them. "Someone might want to tell him that."

Scott's eyes widen as he finds Liam pouring vodka into a soda bottle. Ophelia grimaces. "Oh, that's disgusting," she mutters in disapproval. She's never been one for cocktails.

However, to their displeasure, instead of going over to his Beta, Scott continues to stick with them. "I just want to talk," he pleads to Malia. He ignores the pointed glare Ophelia sends his way.

"Well, I just want to dance with her," Malia retorts, pulling the hybrid a little closer to bring herself some comfort.

"We had our reasons."

"Scott," Ophelia warns lowly.

"We didn't tell you about Peter-"

"To protect me," Malia finishes for him with a roll of her eyes. "That's what Peter said you would say! And guess what he said next? That you were right." Scott's eyes widen. "Does that surprise you?"

"No," he replies hesitantly. "It makes me wonder what he wants. Malia, we need to stay together. All of us-"

"I don't want to talk about it," she snaps. Malia inhales a deep breath and sighs. "I just want to dance," she tells him exhaustedly. "Okay?"

Ophelia gives him another look of warning. "Leave it alone, Scott," she states firmly. But as Malia steps closer to her, she stumbles to the side as she loses her balance. Ophelia's eyes widen and she immediately catches her arms. "Hey, woah, are you okay?"

Malia bursts into giggles. Scott and Ophelia share a look of concern. "Has she drunk anything?" he questions worriedly.

Ophelia quickly shakes her head, her eyes flicking back down to the girl in her arms. "No," she replies in confusion. "I don't know what's going on."

And then Scott looks over to see Liam tripping over his own feet beside Mason at a picnic table. Ophelia follows his line of sight and she frowns. There isn't any wolfsbane here, she would've noticed it, and none of them can get drunk. But so far, two of them look like they've had a bottle of tequila.

"Is this what drunk feels like?" Malia asks, smiling lopsidedly as she reaches up to place her hands on Ophelia's cheeks.

"No, love, you're not drunk." Her heart beats faster as Malia quietly groans, placing a hand to her head. The werecoyote clutches onto her waist to try and keep herself from falling over again.

Scott helps her lead Malia off to the side. "Are you sure she hasn't had anything?" he presses.

"No, I swear," Ophelia answers adamantly. "I don't think it's the drinks." She watches his eyes widen slightly as he spots something over her shoulder. "What is it?" she asks, voice dropping lower.

Even though he looks calm on the façade, she can hear his heart pounding. "Okay, keep her on her feet and just keep moving," he says firmly. She quickly nods.

As they finally find an empty bench slightly away from the biggest section of the crowd, Ophelia helps Malia down and lets the girl rest her head on her shoulder. "I'm texting Freya," she tells Scott, concern prominent in her tone. She watches his brows furrow. "Some of them are in town and they know we're here, but if something goes wrong they can come and help."

Scott nods in agreement. "Yeah, good idea."

After sending the multiple messages off to her siblings, she focuses on Malia. Unscrewing the top of a bottle of water, Ophelia holds it up to her. "You gotta drink this for me," she says gently. Malia nods half-heartedly and takes the water from her. After draining the bottle, her head drops tiredly back onto Ophelia's shoulder.

On the other side of the bench, Scott crouches by Liam. "How much has he had to drink?" he yells to Mason.

The younger boy glances between him and Ophelia. "Not enough to get him like this," he replies with worry.

The hybrid waves a hand to get Scott's attention. "Hey, we need to get them out of here," she tells him urgently. "Now." However, just as she stands up, Ophelia stumbles backward a few steps. Scott's eyes widen in concern, but as he moves to help her, he stops, his vision turning blurry.

Mason's face falls in concern as he looks between them. "How much did you guys drink?"

"Nothing," Ophelia promises.

"Not even a sip," Scott adds in confusion.

As Ophelia drops back onto the bench, she screws her eyes shut tightly. Her head is pounding. Every time she opens her eyes, she feels dizzy, like she's on some kind of hallucinogenic. Which is impossible. It seems like whatever is affecting them is only just hitting herself and Scott. Hardly able to see clearly, she lifts her head and looks around the bonfire, trying to find anything that might seem out of place or inconspicuous.

Suddenly, the ringing in her ears is amplified. The music that blasts across the yard gets louder and louder. And then comes the dawning realisation.

"It's not the drinks," she and Scott say at the same time. They turn to each other with wide eyes.

"It's the music," Scott declares in horror. He turns to Mason, slurring his words for a few seconds. "I have to... I have to turn off the music."

Ophelia grabs onto his arm. "No. I'll go." She doesn't know how he's reacting to it, but she has to have it the best out of all of them. She looks to Mason, eyes boring into his as she says, "Do not let any of them out of your sight, got me?" Although he's confused, how serious she is makes him nod.

With her heart beating up in her ears, Ophelia slowly makes her way into the crowd. Everyone is too drunk or high to notice how she's fairing. She's surprised she's able to walk. Unsurprisingly, the closer she gets to the speakers, the worse she feels. It's just like Argent's emitters that use a frequency that is only heard by werewolves, but instead of corralling them, this one is incredibly harmful.

Only metres away from the small stage, she locks eyes with the DJ, and once her eyes glow a bright red, she swears she sees fear flash across his face. But as she stumbles closer to him, his eyes narrow and he abruptly turns the infrasonic noise up to its full capacity.

Clutching her head with a groan of pain, Ophelia falls to her knees amongst the crowd. She barely acknowledges security guards roughly grabbing onto her arms. She's in too much pain to fight them off. A minute later, she's tossed onto the cool floor of the high school. Now there's a little distance between herself and the music, she feels considerably better than she had outside.

Ophelia's eyes widen as she finds Liam, Malia, and Scott beside her, however, the former pair are on the brink of passing out. Scott meets her panicked gaze, both of them conscious enough to know that whatever is going to happen next won't be good for any of them.

Scott straightens himself as he notices the red canister in one of the guard's hands. Ophelia hears his heart suddenly race. He knows what it is. She tries to move closer to him to provide him some comfort, remembering that not so long ago he had used something similar to douse himself in gasoline. "What is that?" he asks, voice trembling slightly. "What are you doing?"

"It's gasoline."

Ophelia has to laugh. "Wow, you guys are terrible assassins," she proclaims. "Seriously. Burning down the school with us in it? So smart." The response she gets is a wave of the liquid tossed onto her face. She immediately coughs at the burning, bitter taste in her mouth and feels her eyes flash crimson.

As the guard starts drenching them all with the flammable liquid, she tries to think of a plan. The ringing in her head is still present, but it's manageable; especially when her friends' lives are in danger. Again. The easiest way would be to kill them all. It's not up to Scott's standards, but then again, she hadn't been thinking about Scott when she had committed the massacre earlier.

One of the guard's flicks the lighter in his hand, and a maniacal smile appears on his face as he studies the four teenagers. Anger courses through her veins, and a low growl rips through Ophelia's throat as she stands up, fangs peeking through her curled back lips. The guards' faces fall as they watch her stare at them with glowing eyes. "You've caught me on a bad day," she says quietly.

Just as the head guard drops the aflame lighter into the puddle of gasoline in a panic, she hears silence. Complete and utter silence. She smiles. Mason had managed to stop the music.

Right as Ophelia grabs Malia and Liam's arms to speed them out of the licking flames, the building fire before them suddenly vanishes into thin air. Everyone pauses for a brief second in confusion and then Ophelia notices the familiar blonde locks of hair.

"You've caught me on a bad day, too," Freya calls out calmly.

The Stone can't help but smile. Oh, they have no idea who they've just run in to.

With her eyes boring into the five guards that suddenly rush toward her, Freya raises a hand. "Me ne de qual suurentaa!" she yells.

Scott's eyes widen in horror as a sickening crunch fills the air, and the humans drop to the ground with the bones of their necks sticking out at unnatural angles. Seconds later, Derek and Braeden suddenly barge inside, stopping short in shock at the scene before them.

"Malia," Ophelia whispers, moving sweaty strands of hair off the girl's face. Malia weakly smiles at her as she pushes herself off the ground, gaining her strength back as the effects of the music no longer exist.

Whilst Liam sits up and finally registers what had just happened, Scott whirls around to the witch. "Why did you do that?" he asks in disbelief.

Freya takes a small step toward him. "I don't know how you get things done around here, Scott," she begins, entirely serious as she meets the younger boy's eyes. "But sometimes you have to kill a few people to make sure you don't die yourself. And when someone touches my family..." She glances to Ophelia. "Don't expect me to let them leave alive."

Ophelia catches the brief apologetic look Freya sends her way and then she hears her sister's voice as clear as day inside her head. Her eyes follow Freya as the woman walks down the hallway, talking to her telepathically. I'm sorry, she says. I didn't bring the boys because, well you know, this would have been a lot more graphic. Ophelia can't help but smile. See you at home.

The group fall into an uncomfortable silence as most of them stare at the dead bodies. Liam can't take his eyes off them. And that reason alone makes Ophelia feel slightly terrible that Freya had killed them. He's not only new to this world, but he's so much younger than the rest of them. He shouldn't have to be exposed to what is such a norm to so many of them.

"She's right, you know," Ophelia finally tells her friend. Scott's head snaps over to her. "Moral standards only get you so far in this world." While he continues to stare at her with incredulity, she wonders if he's forgotten that he knows she's killed countless people herself. Perhaps seeing such a display of violence up close has rattled him a little.

As she pushes through the double doors to head back outside, she hears Malia quickly scramble up off the floor and follow her with worry. "Hey," the werecoyote calls out. They fall into step. "Are you okay?"

Ophelia inhales a sharp breath. "Yeah. Just another reminder that I don't think Scott will ever fully accept me for who I am." She forces a smile as Malia frowns. "It's okay," she dismisses. She takes the girl's hand and squeezes it. "How are you feeling?"

But before Malia can reply, Ophelia's phone rings. They stop walking when she notices that it's Melissa. She answers on the second dial. "Hi, sweetheart. You might want to come down to the hospital..." Her eyes widen, immediately assuming the worst. "It's Lydia and Stiles."

𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘚𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥. 𝘐𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘈𝘕𝘠 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘍𝘪 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦/𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸?

𝘉𝘜𝘛 𝘞𝘌 𝘔𝘈𝘋𝘌 𝘐𝘛!! 54 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 😭