"𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝓉ℴ 𝓈𝒾𝓉 𝒷ℯ𝓉𝓌ℯℯ𝓃 𝒸ℴ𝓂𝒻ℴ𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝒶ℴ𝓈"

Saturday was the morning of the PSATs. The last thing on Ophelia's mind was school, even more so than it usually would be. Derek Hale had been the name to unlock the third and final part of the dead pool. Stiles had explained to her that he had told Lydia to try to think of people that might die, because that's what a banshee predicts, when someone is going to die. Because of the recently learnt information she had about Derek's werewolf power, she's even more concerned about the fact that it's going to be just that much easier to kill him.

She knows how hard Malia had been studying for the exam and she knows how worried she is about them. However, despite how much Ophelia wants to be there for her, Lydia currently needs her more.

The strawberry blonde banshee looked like a wreck when Ophelia had laid eyes on her early this morning. Jordan Parrish had called the girl last night to tell her that Meredith Walker was dead. She had taken her life inside Eichen House. Lydia had sobbed in her friend's arms for half an hour, the guilt of pressuring Meredith that day and the one before eating her up inside as well as coming to the realisation that the one other banshee she knows, the one person that could help her get a handle on her abilities, is gone.

They have something in common now. Both Ophelia and Lydia blame themselves for someone's death.

Ophelia hadn't turned her phone off completely, for multiple reasons, but she did turn it on silent. She wanted to be as present for Lydia as she could be. They had planned to drive down to the lake house for the day so the banshee can pay her respects to Meredith, and perhaps try to communicate to her through the record player.

The drive is peaceful, the quiet music from the radio spilling out the windows and onto the road below.

Because she hadn't witnessed the remaining list uncovered last night, Ophelia listens to Lydia recite the familiar names and relevant numbers to her. It's like Lydia has the entire dead pool engrained into her mind. "Satomi's ten, Liam is three, Malia is four, and..." Lydia stares at the seemingly endless road through the windshield, her eyes now glassy with tears. Ophelia reaches over and places a hand over hers resting on the steering wheel. "M-Meredith was worth one," she whispers.

Ophelia sighs. "How much was this part worth?"

"Just over twenty-one million," Lydia says quietly.

Green eyes widen. "Fuck me, I should kill all of you, pretend to kill myself, and run away." She smiles when a giggle escapes Lydia's lips. That's one of her objectives for the day completed: to make her best friend smile. They arrive at the lake house ten minutes later. Before she gets out of the car, she messages Malia to remind her good luck.

In Ophelia's hands is the small cardboard box that Parrish had passed onto Lydia. Inside are belongings from the late banshee and the instructions written on the top are 'Destroy all contents if not claimed.' Because all of Meredith's family had died, Lydia had felt a sort of responsibility to take into possession of the items. The dark-haired girl follows her upstairs, a comfortable silence hanging over their heads as they tread across the carpeted floors.

Today, she's just here to comfort Lydia if she needs it. She knows what it's like for guilt to rip through every limb on your body.

As they enter the soundproofed room, Ophelia quietly closes the door behind her and lays the box on the ground. She kneels beside Lydia in front of the record player and gives her friend's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm here if you need me," she says.

Lydia gives her a weak smile and takes a deep breath as she turns to the cardboard box. She removes the lid and slowly takes out its contents: a vintage perfume bottle, a bouquet of dried, yellow flowers tied together at the stem with a blush-pink ribbon, a stuffed koala, and a photograph. Lydia glances to her friend hesitantly, and Ophelia gives her a reassuring smile.

She inhales another deep breath as she flips the switch to turn on the record player. As the static fills their ears, Lydia closes her eyes for a short moment. "All right, Meredith," she whispers softly. "I'm not sure how to do this." She lifts her head up to stare at the cream-coloured wall. "I'm not a psychic. And apparently, I'm not much of a banshee either."

Ophelia takes a sharp breath in through her nose, quickly blinking away the forming tears in her eyes. It just about breaks her dead beating heart of how little Lydia believes in herself. Ophelia almost doesn't blame her. She can feel the frustration radiating off of her every day that she doesn't gain a sliver of understanding for her abilities.

"But I'm trying to help my friends. I don't know if you can hear me, or, uh, what I'm supposed to ask you." She licks her lips anxiously and pauses. Ophelia shuffles closer to her when she hears her quietly sniffle. "But if I have this thing, it's got to work some of the time! It's got to help someone."

She watches Lydia continue to stare at the record player, and she quickly realises she isn't hearing anything other than the same static that she is.

The silence is deafening. "Maybe what I really wanted to say was... I'm sorry." A tear drops down her cheek. "I wish I could have helped you." A moment passes. "I'm sorry," Lydia murmurs again.

Ophelia sighs when she senses that frustration return, and Lydia quickly turns the record player off. "Nothing?" she asks.

Lydia looks to her tearfully. "Nothing," she whispers. With a nod, she takes Meredith's items from Ophelia's hands as she passes them over, delicately placing them back into the cardboard box.

But when she properly looks at the black and white photograph that she had barely glanced at the first time, Ophelia's brows furrow together. She raises the picture closer to her eyes as she studies the person looking at the camera. "Lydia," she calls out.

The banshee leans over to examine the photo and when she recognises who is in it, she quickly stands up in surprise. Panicked and extremely confused, Lydia holds the photo up as she compares it to the wall before them. It's exactly the same. "She was here," she says. She glances to Ophelia. "Meredith was here."

And then Ophelia Stone glances down to her phone.

There are dozens of messages and calls from Ken Yukimura (who she has no idea how he got her number), Melissa McCall, and Noah Stilinski.

Lydia finally notices the alarm on the girl's face and her eyes widen. "Fi? What's going on?"

Ophelia's already rushing out of the room and down the stairs, leaving Lydia to quickly hurry after her. She stops by the front door, trying to swallow down the terror slowly taking control of her body. "The school," she begins. "They're all taking the exam and they've been poisoned."

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By the time they get to the high school, a blanket of stars paints the sky above. Large crowds gather around the police barricades blocking off the entrances to the building, and flood lights have been turned on to reveal the tents set up by the CDC. Ophelia's heart beats rapidly as she barges through the blockades with Lydia by her side. Immediately, deputies show up and try to block them from getting any further. "Stilinski!" she yells urgently. "Noah!"

The Sheriff of Beacon Hills notices the two girls and his eyes widen. "Woah, woah, woah," he calls out. "Hey! I know these two, let them in."

Ophelia glares at the deputy's hand gripping her arm and she wrenches out of his hold to join Noah Stilinski. The man quickly ushers them to the side. "My mom's in there," Lydia stresses. "What's happening?"

He glances to the hybrid whose eyes are boring at the double doors leading into the school. "We're working on it," he tells them.

"Yeah, that's not good enough for me," Ophelia retorts. "Look, I need to get in there, okay? I don't care if you have to arrest me after or if I have to compel all of these idiots, but I need to get in there. I can heal them, whatever it is, it won't affect me the same way." Lydia grips onto her hand, squeezing it tightly at the desperate amount of emotion heard in her voice. "Just get me inside."

The Sheriff's lips purse, then after a moment of reluctance, he nods. "Okay," he agrees. "There's a window around the side, it should be open." Just as Ophelia moves to race off, he takes her elbow, looking at her with pleading eyes. "Make sure they're okay," he says softly.

She curtly nods, and then Lydia wraps her into a short embrace. "Be safe," the banshee tells her.

Ophelia gives them both a brief smile before weaving through the crowds and disappearing around the corner of the bricked building. She slips into the classroom bathed in darkness and her eyes glow a bright red as she heads into the hallway, trying to lock onto any of her friends' scents. It's almost impossible. Almost.

Her steps are quiet as she rushes through the corridors, the faint sounds of doctors tending to the infected humans in one of the rooms that has been transformed into a quarantine zone.

She finally catches Stiles' scent. Strangely, he's far closer than she had predicted him to be. Then she hears his heartbeat. But what concerns her the most is that she can smell blood, and quite a lot of it.

And then she literally runs into him.

The boy is breathless as he turns the corner, eyes widening and a shriek of alarm leaving his lips as he crashes into his friend. "Fi! Oh, my God, holy shit, thank God you're here-"

His skin and shirt are drenched in a cold sweat, and she quickly catches him as he suddenly stumbles forward, his breathing shallow. Her eyes widen as she gets a glimpse of his wrists underneath his hoodie. The rash is red with vein-like blisters forming a pattern that almost resembles honeycomb. However, then her eyes flick up to his face. A violent crimson red is spattered over his face. His face is covered in blood.

Ophelia's eyes widen. "What the fuck happened?" she asks, thoroughly concerned for him. It's not his but she can't identify whose it belongs to.

It's clear that he's just gone through something incredibly traumatic, but he doesn't even touch the surface of it. "I'm fine," he dismisses quickly. "Well, not fine, but there's bigger things going on." She matches his pace as he sets off down the corridor along the path that leads to the basement. "I know of a cure, but when I left Malia was..." Stiles briefly glances at her and is slightly taken aback at how terrified she is by just having dropped the werecoyote's name. "It's really bad."

"What is it?" she questions urgently. "The poison."

"I don't know. But whatever it is, it's killing them. They're all inside the Hale vault to keep them, you know..."

"Away from everyone," she finishes in understanding. Ophelia's eyes flick back down to his wrists. "Whatever it is, I'm not feeling it."

"It took a while for us to notice, but I don't think you will," he tells her reassuringly.

Ophelia pulls him to a stop and sinks her fangs into her wrist. He sighs as she holds it out to him, sternly glaring when he looks up to her hesitantly. "Don't even start with me, Stiles," she scolds.

Stiles places a finger into her blood and lets the drops of crimson liquid fall onto his tongue. After standing still for a few moments, he deeply inhales. "I'll never get used to that," he comments in disbelief, watching the rashes on his arms suddenly begin to disappear like they were never even there in the first place.

She smiles, and with his sudden strength they increase their pace and race down the stairs to the basement. Ophelia's eyes widen at the large door that stands in front of them. A Celtic knot grate is in the centre, exactly like the one on the school's sign above them, and around it is a giant triskele carved into the stone. She had no idea there was a second entrance to the vault, but then again a few weeks ago she didn't even know the Hales had a vault.

As Ophelia begins to pound on the door, not knowing that the only way in is for one of the Hales to insert their claws into the grate, Stiles yells to the group inside. "Hey, Scott? Scotty?" She nods at him quickly when she hears the True Alpha right on the other side of the door to them. And to say she's worried is an understatement. Scott's heart beats far too slowly. "In the vault," Stiles shouts. "It's in there with you. It's called Reishi mushrooms! Scott, come on, open the door! It's in there with you, it's in a jar on one of the shelves."

Whilst she has no idea what Reishi mushrooms are, Ophelia assumes that this is the cure he had been referring to minutes prior. "Stiles, how do we open this damn thing?"

With no response from Scott, Stiles slumps against the door in defeat, slowly sliding down as he lets out a scream of frustration. A few tears drop down his cheeks and he looks up to her. "We can't," he whispers.

Ophelia's irises blaze bright red. "What do you mean we can't?" she snaps. "Of course we can."

"It needs to be one of the Hales."

Her jaw clenches. "Bullshit." Her friends are inside and they're dying. Over her dead body would she ever let that happen.

Stiles straightens up as he watches her crack her neck side to side, the bones popping in a satisfying crunch. "Fi-"

And then she slams her fist into the concrete. She'll tell Derek to send her the bill for repairs. A thunderous roar leaves her jaws as the stone splinters under the violent impact, crumbling away as she continues to throw her body against it with every ounce of strength inside her. Just as she finally creates a decent sized hole, she hears glass shatter from inside. Ophelia hears the three teenagers inside the vault suddenly gasp as their airways are cleared and she tears away the last piece of stone so she can step through.

Whilst Scott, gasping heavily, properly opens the door gasping heavily to greet Stiles, Ophelia brushes past him, her eyes locked onto the slumped figure at the back. Scott knows she's more than glad to see him, but he also knows about her feelings for Malia. She's not exactly subtle, anyways.

When Malia's teary eyes meet the hybrid's, another gasp leaves her lips. Ophelia drops onto her knees beside her and immediately grabs her body to pull her close. She feels her shirt slowly dampen with the tears from the girl and hugs her even tighter. "Are you okay?" she murmurs.

Malia nods her head against Ophelia's shoulder, her heartbeat evening out as she listens to now steady thumps of her friend's. "Yeah- yeah, I'm okay," she mumbles.

They pull apart and reach out to gently cradle each other's faces as they stare into the other's eyes. "I was so worried about you," Ophelia says.

Malia smiles slightly. After a beat of silence, her voice is hoarse as she quietly asks, "Did you know?"

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Know what, love?"

Malia Tate trusts her with her entire life. More, if that's even possible. By Ophelia's reaction, she knows that she wasn't aware of the information she's just learnt that has flipped her entire world upside down. She glances down to the piece of paper lying on the ground beside her, and Ophelia picks it up. Instead of Tate printed after Malia, it's Hale. Ophelia's eyes widen in pure shock, then they flick back up to the brunette.

And then she comes to a realisation that sends a wave of anger coursing through her veins. Everyone had seen the final third of the dead pool. Ophelia hadn't, and up until this moment, neither had Malia. And if everyone else had seen the list of names...

Stiles rushes over to them, watching Malia in concern. "Hey, are you okay?"

But when she doesn't look him in the eye, he glances to Ophelia in confusion. She stares at him blankly. As Malia walks out of the vault without a word, Scott, Stiles, and Kira look after her with worry. The group of three slowly turn to the hybrid.

Ophelia's narrowed eyes move between the two boys. "How long have you known?" she asks, her voice sharp enough to cut through glass. Their faces fall. They know what she's talking about without looking down to see a copy of the dead pool on the ground. Their silence causes the anger to burn blindingly hot. "How long?"

"Around two months," Scott says quietly.

She gawks at them both, betrayal briefly flashing over her face. "Why didn't you tell her?" she questions incredulously, unable to understand what possible reason they might have. "Why didn't you tell me? Did you not trust either of us?" At a loss as to what they should say, Scott, Stiles, and Kira fall silent.

Ophelia scoffs in disbelief.

She walks out the vault after Malia, leaving them to wallow in crushing guilt and fear as to what might come as a consequence. Scott and Stiles know how she takes to lying, they've just never been on the receiving end of it before. She's not just protecting herself anymore, she's also protecting someone she deeply cares about. And that in itself makes them wish that they could go back in time and chose a different path as to what they had already taken.

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Ophelia Stone's current priority is Malia. With Lydia back at the lake house trying to discover Meredith's connection to her family, she could focus on protecting her other friends. Finding out that Malia had been a Hale all along was a complete and utter shock to her system. However, the more Ophelia thought about it, the more it began to make sense. She saw many similarities between the werecoyote and Derek, violent tendencies and bluntness just to name a few, and after looking at a photo of Peter Hale she had realised that Malia really did look like his daughter.

She has no idea what Scott and Stiles are up to, and frankly, she doesn't care. She needs her own time to process the fact that they had lied to her, and she believes it's because they didn't trust her enough to share the information. Whether they said it was to protect Malia or not, Ophelia doesn't think that anything they could say would be good enough.

But her being lied to isn't the most important part, it's that Malia had been shielded from vital information that's crucial to her life. And until Malia decides she wants to talk to their friends again, Ophelia would continue avoiding them. She's petty like that.

The first thing Malia wanted to do on Sunday was to return to the Hale vault and try and find any form of answers about her true family. And Ophelia is open to doing anything to help her. As much as she does like Peter, she also isn't stupid. She knows that he's manipulative and that in any situation he would only do something unless he would get something out of it. But he's also Malia's biological father. They deserve to have a relationship with one another, however deep or meaningful it may or may not be.

The two girls walk through the vault, examining various shelfs and items. Ophelia peeks into a box and immediately coughs as a large cloud of dust floats out from it. "Bloody hell," she exclaims.

Malia glances to her and giggles. But her smile falls when she looks to her ringing phone. She holds it up to the hybrid who quickly tenses at the contact name displayed on the screen. "What should I do?"

Ophelia sighs. "No, that's not for me to decide," she says softly, walking over by her side and giving her a weak smile. "Whatever you do has to be what you want."

The girl hesitantly nods and after another second of staring at her phone she turns it off and returns it to the back pocket of her jeans. Both of them turn to the safe in the centre of the vault, the same one that had been robbed just a few weeks earlier. "I guess that's the most obvious place to check," Malia mutters.

Ophelia follows her, standing behind her shoulder as she watches Malia grab onto the handle, but, naturally, it's locked. Malia looks to her quickly, and she nods. "You got this, love, just focus and breathe," she encourages.

Malia's eyes narrow in concentration as she harshly pulls on the handle, and after a few seconds of the metal creaking, it snaps off. Her eyes widen in surprise, and she spins around to her friend, a wide smile of excitement adorning her face. "I did it!" she exclaims happily. Ophelia grins.

Inside, the safe is completely entire aside from a manilla file. Printed neatly in black pen at the top reads, 'Malia Tate – Adoption Records.'

Just before Malia can open it, Ophelia freezes and places a hand on her arm. "Someone's here," she murmurs. Footsteps echo through the small space and shortly after, she realises that it's one of the many Hales.

The pair turn around as Peter stops walking, staring at them in front of his safe that is still wide open. "I've got to buy a better safe," he declares. He sighs and smiles at them, something that to Ophelia looks rather sympathetic. His eyes lock onto the file clutched tightly in Malia's hand. "They told you."

Ophelia's jaw clenches. "Oh no, they didn't."

Malia takes a moment to compose herself. "The dead pool," she says.

Peter stares at her for a moment before nodding. He walks closer to them, then stops before Malia. "I can't let you leave here with that," he states calmly.

The Tate's eyes squint slightly at him as she squares her shoulders. "Maybe you won't have a choice," she retorts.

"Oh, you don't," Ophelia confirms. "We're leaving with it even if I have to knock you out myself."

Peter glances to her and begins to understand just how protective she is of his daughter. "Is that right?" he asks in amusement.

Malia studies him for a few seconds. "I think I could take you," she announces confidently.

"You've heard rumours I'm not as strong as I used to be."

Ophelia snorts. "Please, you really think you'd have a chance against me?"

Peter raises a brow, eyes locked onto hers intensely. Then his arm swings back and he punches through one of the support columns behind him, breaking off a large chunk of the stone. Ophelia stares at him challengingly, flinching forward to go do the same.

Malia grabs onto her hand and gives her a pointed look. "Are we sure bringing the roof down on us is a good idea?" The hybrid rolls her eyes whilst Peter's lips lift into a satisfied smirk. She holds out the file for him to take.

"I said you can't leave with it," he tells her. "I didn't say you couldn't read it."

The first page of the file is Malia's birth certificate, attached with a photo of her as a newborn. Ophelia feels her heart warm at the tiny footprints stamped on the top of the paper. The second and last page is the record of her adoption. However, covering majority of the information and words is a stain of blood.

Ophelia looks up to the werewolf. "What the fuck were you doing with this?"

"I had a tomahawk thrown into my chest," he replies dryly. With a sigh, Malia closes the file. "You wanna talk about it? See a family counsellor?"

"There's nothing in there," she points out.

Peter's eyebrows furrow in offence. "Cost me a lot of money to get that file," he proclaims.

"Hate to break it to you, but you got ripped off," Ophelia comments with a laugh.

"You know what happens when you only hear one side of a story?" he asks as he circles them. "You've only heard one side of the story."

Ophelia smiles when Malia tilts her head slightly, raising her brows as if saying, Yeah, and? "You murdered people," the werecoyote states.

Peter nods his head over to the Stone. "So has your girlfriend."

Malia's eyes widen slightly. "She's not my-"

"That's not the same," Ophelia interrupts, eyes narrowed at the man. "I would never, ever lay a hand on my family. No matter what." His lips lift into a small, amused smile.

"You haven't just killed people," Malia continues, clearing her throat as she tries to ignore her flushed cheeks. "You murdered them."

"There were extenuating circumstances."

"Like what? The fire?"

"A fire that nearly burned me alive. Six years in a coma." His eyes flick between them. "Do you know what that's like for one of us? It's not a pleasant sleep. Imagine it, being trapped in your body, but still being fully cognisant. Unable to do anything other than listen to your own thoughts slowly driving you absolutely and totally insane, minute by minute, day by day. Yes, I've done horrible, terrible things," Peter admits honestly. His gaze shifts onto Ophelia as he says, "And so have a lot of people."

He isn't wrong. Actually, the point he makes is completely valid. Whilst the fire doesn't excuse his actions, his explanation makes them recognise what his state of mind was like in the time throughout his coma. It's what makes Ophelia feel that sliver of sympathy toward him again. It makes her understand him.

"And horrible, terrible things are going to keep happening," he continues. "Especially when there's a dead pool with your names on it."

Now that both Malia and Ophelia have seen the list in its full size, they know that there's one significant name that's been left off it. "But not yours," Malia reminds him.

After a moment of stifling silence, Peter nods. "True," he admits. "But I am not The Benefactor. I'm just a guy who's out millions of dollars. A few thousand of which I used trying to help," his eyes move onto his daughter, "you."

"Me?"

"How does the bad guy prove that he's not so bad?" His voice softens slightly as he answers himself. "By doing an act of kindness."

Ophelia shifts her weight. Those words hold meaning to her. Once upon a time, she was the bad guy. After many apologises and many acts of kindness, she had grown back the trust of those she had wronged. Of Scott and Stiles.

"What could you ever do for me?" Malia asks sceptically.

"Help you find your mother." Peter watches Malia quickly glance to the girl beside her. "I'm pretty interested myself as the memory was stolen from me by my sister, Talia."

Far too curious to resist his offer, Malia nods. "Okay. What did you find?"

"A woman," he answers. "Might be her. I don't have a name yet, just a particularly interesting alias."

Ophelia arches a single brow. "Spill."

He rolls his eyes at her all too demanding tone of voice. "She's called The Desert Wolf," he says. Ophelia turns to Malia when she hears the girl's heartbeat raise. "Do you know what that means?"

With eyes wide, Malia whispers, "Coyote."

Without a goodbye, the pair of teenagers leave Peter strewing with his thoughts and walk up the stairs of the vault. Once they're safely inside the red Porsche, they sit in silence for a few moments, each processing what they've just been told. "Are you okay?" Ophelia speaks up softly.

"Do you think it's a good idea?" Malia asks her quietly. Ophelia turns to look at her questioningly. "Trusting him," she clarifies.

The hybrid sighs. "I don't know," she replies honestly. "I really don't. On one hand, it's Peter. But on the other hand, he's the only person that has a lead on your mother."

Malia nods, her lips pursed in thought. "I think..." She stares out the windshield to the sign of the high school. "I think that if he can help me find her, I don't care."

Ophelia places a hand on hers. "Then neither do I." Malia's eyes widen slightly. "What? I'm here to support you. It doesn't matter what I might or might not think. If it's what you want to do, then I'm with you all the way."

Malia stares at her in awe, her eyes glossy with tears. She swallows thickly, pausing for a second as she thinks over her words. "The night I caused the crash," she begins in a whisper. "Right before we got in the car, my mother..." A tear falls down her cheek. "My adoptive mother, I guess," she corrects. "We got into a huge fight. I don't even remember what it was about, but... I remember what I said." She chokes back a sob as she says, "I said, 'I wish you were all dead.'"

Ophelia Stone feels like her heart is made of glass and that it's just shattered into a million pieces.

Instead of saying something, she pulls Malia into a gentle hug, listening to her sniffle and quietly cry. Sometimes, saying nothing is better than saying anything at all. Sometimes, all you need is someone to listen.

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After making sure she was comfortable enough to be left alone, Ophelia had dropped the fragile minded girl off at her home then decided to visit her other friends. Over the last twelve hours, Stiles and Scott have left a combination of over a hundred missed calls and messages. Majority are of them profusely apologising. What Ophelia had gathered that had occurred over the last few hours was Scott had temporarily died so they could try and lure The Benefactor to the hospital in order to get visual confirmation of the body. Of course, it didn't work.

And because she still loves Scott, despite of what they're going through currently, she wants to check in on him and make sure he's okay.

The front door to the McCall house is unlocked, like usual, and Stiles' Jeep is in the driveway. She figures the Stilinski is here to stay the night considering it's past eleven o'clock. She hears their chatter up in Scott's room, and after quickly listening out for Melissa, she realises the nurse isn't home. But the conversation she hears makes her slow down. 

"It's five-hundred thousand dollars, Scott. That's half a million dollars. Are you seriously just gonna keep it under your fucking bed?"

"It's Derek's!"

"But it's also Peter's."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, maybe we should... maybe we should proceed with caution."

"... You don't think we should tell Derek?"

Ophelia swings the bedroom door open and both boys jump in fright. "Tell Derek what?" she asks, pretending as if she hadn't been listening to them for the last minute. Her eyes narrow as she watches Scott hurriedly stuff a sports bag under his bed. "What's in the bag?"

They share a nervous look. "N-Nothing," Stiles stammers.

"Oh, so we're continuing to lie to me then?"

Scott's face falls. "Fi, look, we're really-"

"If you say sorry one more time, I will punch you," she snaps. They fall silent. Ophelia's eyes move between them and she scoffs. "So, that's it? No sarcastic remark? Out of excuses now, are we?"

Stiles closes his eyes. "Okay, we screwed up," he admits quietly.

"Yes, yes you did. You royally screwed up." Despite their protests, she shoves the boys out the way and drags the red bag out from under the bed. Ophelia drops it on the ground and glowers at them both. "Why do you have half a million dollars under your bed, Scott?"

His eyes bulge in alarm, but then he sighs in realisation. "You heard," he mutters. She nods. "Okay, it's Garrett's."

"Dead assassin, Garrett?"

"Yep."

Ophelia hums. "So, it's blood money."

The boys share another hesitant nod. "I guess," Stiles agrees.

"You guess? Or it is?"

"... It is."

Genuine confusion fills her eyes as she glances back down to the unzipped bag, revealing stacks of bills inside. "What's going on?" she asks, her voice softer this time. "Because if you need money, I'll get you money, okay? You know I'd do anything for you."

Scott inhales a deep breath. "Mom's- Mom's not doing too well," he admits. "She... She does this thing, she writes down all the items in our budget, how much they cost... and then she adds it all up and figures out how long we have until," he pauses, "we lose the house."

Ophelia's eyes widen in shock. She knew the family had been a little tight on money since the considerate amount of damage the oni had done to the house a few months ago, but she didn't realise it was this bad.

She glances to Stiles. "The Eichen House and MRI bills are crushing my dad."

With a sigh, Ophelia drops down onto the bed with them. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not something you need to worry about," Scott replies.

"But it is," she argues back. "Okay? It is. And if I can do something about that, I'd much rather you take my money than bills stained in figurative blood from an assassin." They fall into silence. "You don't have to say yes, but at least think about it. Please."

Scott and Stiles meet her eyes and nod.

She breathes out another sigh. "All right, come on, I'll make us some tea."

As the group of three head downstairs in a relatively awkward silence, Ophelia tries to give them the benefit of the doubt. She can sympathise with the financial problems, she really can, and she fully understands why they didn't tell her. However, what she can't sympathise toward is how they had kept something so important from not just her but Malia.

They sip the hot drink without speaking another word until she finally has enough. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Scott places the mug on the table. "About what?" Ophelia glares at him. "Oh, oh, right. Uh..."

"We weren't thinking!" Stiles exclaims a little too loudly. He groans and places his head in his hands. "Okay, Fi? We weren't thinking anything through."

Ophelia turns her attention to Scott. "We were stupid," the werewolf agrees quietly. "Really, really stupid."

"But we thought it was the right thing to do," Stiles continues rambling. "I mean, you're super close with Malia, so we knew that if we told you then you'd one-hundred percent go and tell her. And we thought the best thing was to not tell Malia, so we kind of had to not tell you..."

She stares into empty space. It's not the best reason. But... if she was in their place, she might... might have done the same thing. If anything, she's slightly flattered that they automatically assumed she would have told Malia. Which is true, she would have.

Ophelia lets the scolding hot water slide down her throat. "All right," she says.

Scott and Stiles share a look with one another. "All right?" the latter repeats.

She nods. "All right. I forgive you." Their faces light up. "But I can't say the same with Malia. I think she needs some time. What she doesn't need is either of you telling her how to act on her relationship with Peter. Don't go filling her head with 'He's a bad person' and 'You can't trust him.' She needs to do this on her own, and if — if — she asks for your help, she wants you to support her."

After a moment, they both nod.

Ophelia closes her eyes. "Bloody hell," she mutters. She taps her hands on the table and pushes her chair back. "I need to get back home, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" They both smile at her. "Yeah, yeah, don't look at me like that." Their smiles grow wider. "No, fuck off."

"You love us," Stiles chuckles.

"I'm still pissed at you," she corrects. His smile drops. "And now you're going to watch me walk away knowing that I'm still pissed at you."

As she walks out the front door, she jogs over to the window overlooking the living space, the blinds open so she can see her best friends. Her eyes narrow when she finds them with their backs turned to her.

Scott and Stiles fall out of their chairs in shock when she violently slams her hands up against the glass. As they spin around to her with wide eyes, she yells, "I said watch me!"

When she's satisfied with their reactions, Ophelia smiles and jumps into her car. She's got someone at home waiting for her.

But when she arrives, it's not what she had expected. No, when she pulls up before her home, she thinks she's entering a nightmare.

The large, wooden front door is wide open. What sends a wave of anxiety crashing over her is the blood dotted on the floors just inside of it. There are multiple heartbeats inside her home. None of them, except one, she recognises. Ophelia stays still by her car as she strains her hearing. She catches Malia's panicked, heavy breathing, then the sounds of her struggling.

Looking around the street, she doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary until she sees the two midnight black vans parked at the back of a neighbouring house.

Assassins.

With her eyes glowing red and her fangs peeking through her lips, Ophelia storms inside. Anger has taken over. Any rationality in her brain has flown out the damn window. She can't think. She hears Malia's terrified scream too late.

"Ophelia, run!"

The explosion and blinding flash of light catches her off guard. With her ears ringing, Ophelia coughs and lifts her head off the ground, red eyes darting around to try and find the attackers. Then she feels the painful stab into her spine.

With a sadistic smile, she turns around and rips the wooden stake out of her body. She feels the wound instantly heal. "Yeah, I don't die that easily," she says gently.

Clad head to toe in black, the masked assassin tilts his head at her. And that's when the thick smoke fills the foyer. Eyes wide in alarm, Ophelia tries her best to avoid breathing in the fumes of toxic herbs. She can't leave, leaving isn't an option because Malia is in the other room. Pushing through the discomfort, her vampiric speed aids her into the living room where she finds the love of her life bound in a chair by thick rope, head lulled to the side as she dreams within the land of unconsciousness. Ophelia feels her heart drop to her feet in horror.

And the brief moment of letting her guard down is her mistake.

She remembers lunging toward Malia, and the next second she hears the crunch of her neck.

𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘪𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘒𝘚. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘖𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢'𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 🥰