I hear my voice as if from a distance, a shrill scream that seems to fill the whole place. "Theo!"

His eyes are shut and his chest barely rises and falls. I run and kneel beside him. This can't be happening. He can't die. My voice catches in my throat as I repeat his name.

I hold his face in my hands. "Come on, Theo, don't die on me." I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Tears run down my cheeks in rivulets.

"Arden." I look up at Liam. Him and Hayden are in a stone-like room behind the electric fence.

"Liam," I say, tilting my head to the side. I didn't even notice him. "I - I'm sorry. It's just-" I take a deep breath. "He can't die. Theo can't die."

"Arden," Liam repeats slowly. "It's alright." He pushes himself up with a groan. "Pain," he says. "He needs pain to heal. Your talons."

"Okay, okay," I say. I wipe my eyes with the heels of my hands. "Okay," I say again. I shake my arms. I close my eyes and will my talons to come out. I clench my teeth and hear my talons shoot out with a click. I tap into that siren part of me, a dark untouchable corner of my mind.

I snap my eyes open. I look over at him, his eyes closed and his expression peaceful. I brush my fingers over his biceps. Don't think about it hurting, I recite in my head. Don't think about anything.

And I squeeze. His flesh is resistant under my talons but I dig them in all the same. His blood is warm and sticky on my fingers. I clench my teeth and grunt as I gouge my talons in harder.

Theo's eyes fly open suddenly. Amber rings glow around his pupils. I wrench my talons free of his arm with a sickening gurgle of blood and gore.

His chest rises and falls heavily. I put a hand under his arm and help him up. "You almost died," I tell him softly.

"Mm," he hums, blinking slowly.

I envelope him in my arms. "I thought you were going to die," I whisper. I brush my thumb over his cheekbone.

He presses his lips against my hair and I know it's wrong, but I enjoy how close we are. Brett, I think weakly. I pull myself away from him. He attempts to push himself up. He lets out a grunt. "Theo-"

"I'm alright," he says. He shakes his head and when he turns back, there are fangs where teeth were a moment ago and his eyes glow golden. He grips the chain link fence and wrenches it apart. Bolts of electricity lace Theo's body as he lets out a growl. I can only watch in awe as the gate separates into two in a show of sparks and chains breaking.

Miraculously, he's unscathed. I rush forward. "Oh god, are you okay?" I ask, laying eyes on a putrid looking wound on Hayden's hip.

"I'll be okay," she says. Liam helps lift her and carries her to the car.

I lead the way since I want to get out of this eerie place as soon as possible. I use the flashlight on my phone to navigate the basement.

We get out of there alive and, to the best of my knowledge, undetected. On the way home, I have a nagging feeling that it was just too easy. Like it was planned all along to get us to break them out.

I take a glance in the mirror at Liam and Hayden. I feel a pang of jealousy hit me at their closeness. I pull out my phone to check if Brett's reached out since I last checked. Nothing.

The next time I check up on Liam and Hayden in the mirror, they're kissing. I feel the corners of my mouth turn up slightly. Theo looks up at the mirror and then shifts his eyes to meet mine. I feel his hand grapple for mine. He squeezes my hand.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," I hear Hayden say quietly from the backseat. I squeeze Theo's hand back, three short pumps.

And for the first time in a while, it feels like everything's going to be okay.

The pack is waiting at Scott's house. As soon as we arrive, Theo is hailed as a hero. They greet him with a line up of hugs and hand shakes. I linger awkwardly in the corner.

Liam and Hayden are curled up on one of the couches deep in slumber. It gladdens me to see Liam so tranquil and carefree. He's had to grow up way before his time, I realise with a melancholic start.

Everyone is starting to wind down and I feel a tired but glad feeling shroud the room. I seize a throw on one of the other couches and unfold it. "Here," Theo says. He grabs the other corner and we drape it over the sleeping pair.

I sit down beside him. "Is your arm okay?" I ask. I know it's a stupid question seeing as he's probably healed, but I attempt to make conversation anyway.

"It's healed," he says. "Thank you for that."

I smile. "I'm just glad you're okay," he says.

Lydia comes through the door. "I have to leave," she announces.

"Why?" I inquire, lowering my eyebrows.

Lydia purses her lips. "Someone took the body. I need to help Stiles at the station."

"What the hell?" I ask, lifting myself from my seat. "How? The place was basically locked down under maximum security."

She shrugs. "That's what I'm going to find out." She glances over at the peaceful young couple asleep in each other's arms. "You'll be okay to look after Hayden and Liam?"

"There's five of us, Lydia," Scott points out. "I think we'll be okay."

She nods and takes one pointed look at us before disappearing through the door. "She deserves more credit than we give her," I muse. "The girl is running on zero sleep and is still smarter than all of us combined."

"And she's top of the grade while doing it," Scott contributes.

I nod in agreement and grin. The past few weeks have been such a whirlwind that I can't help but bask in this time of reflection. It may sometimes be unconventional, but these are probably the best friends I've ever had. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, sighing contently.

"Are you going to the lacrosse game tomorrow, Arden?" Kira asks suddenly. I snap out of my reverie and sit back up.

"Uh, if you're going I guess," I reply, furrowing my eyebrows. Why direct that questions at me?

She opens her mouth slightly. "You don't know," she says. "It's Devenford versus Beacon Hills."

"Oh!" I exclaim. "I guess so, then. Brett will probably want me there."

"So who are you going to be cheering on?" Theo asks. "Devenford or Beacon Hills?"

I think carefully about this. I don't want to get violently attacked by crazy Beacon Hills supporters. "Brett," I say firmly. "I'll be rooting for Brett." I look over at Theo. "What about you? Into lacrosse?"

"Not really," he says. "I mean, I don't know. I don't really know the game that well."

"Come tomorrow," I tell him, "and sit next to me. I'll explain it to you."

He smiles. "You? Into lacrosse?"

I jut my lower lip out and look side to side. "If by into lacrosse you mean I enjoy watching hot sweaty guys knock each other over, then yes. I am very much into lacrosse."

He grins. "Then I might just have to get Scott to teach me."

I furrow my eyebrows. What's that supposed to mean? Coming to the conclusion that Theo is a remarkably strange guy, I pull out my phone to distract me. I text Brett and ask him if he'd like me to drive him to his game tomorrow.

I put my phone on the coffee table and slump back onto the couch. One by one, the rest of the group falls asleep, until an overwhelming fog of silence surrounds Theo and me. I look over at the curled up sleepers, jealous that they can actually get to sleep. It may be the adrenaline, or maybe just that I've gotten used to not sleeping, but I feel wide awake.

"It's funny," Theo says beside me. "You don't realise how truly alone you are until it's two in the morning and you have no one to hold in your arms."

I shift uncomfortably. "Why are you telling me this?" I ask him quietly.

"Because you understand," he says, "what it's like to be the bad guy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"On my first day at Beacon Hills, you gave me your trust when no one else did," he says. "You're the only one who knows what it's like to kill someone innocent." He nods his head along to the words like he's trying to instil what he's saying into me. He speaks again, this time quieter. "You know that it's not all black and white. That it's not all bad nor all good."

I'm suddenly very uncomfortable. Theo is the first person who has really seen through the glamour, the disguise, and taken me for what I really am. A siren who can't be good because of what she is. And I hate him for it.

I gnaw on the inside of my bottom lip. " 'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.' "

His eyes bore into mine. "Who's that from?"

I pause and tilt my head to the side. "Shakespeare." I look down and chuckle nervously. "Uh, I'm sorry. It's probably a bit lame quoting literature at you."

I feel the pads of his fingers move under my chin and tip my face up to his. "I think it's perfect," he murmurs. He lowers his face.

Oh god. He's going to kiss me. I can't pull away. It's wrong and I want to, but I can't bring myself to. His lips are closing in on mine and I can feel his breath caress my face.

I turn away. "I can't do this," I whisper softly. "I'm sorry."

He swears under his breath. "You're right," he says, sighing. "I shouldn't push you into something like...that. You have a boyfriend."

I nod slowly. "Yeah, yeah," I say softly. "I'm...I'm sorry." I shake my head and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Don't be sorry. It was every bit me as it was you."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. It was me who tried to kiss you." I wince slightly at the word kiss, mainly because it makes it more real.

"But, like, it's my fault as well. I'd want to kiss you, too." I cup my hand over my mouth. What did I just do? I grab my phone off the table. "I, uh, I need to go right now."

I move hurriedly towards the door, hauling it open. I pause before I slip through the doorway. "I, um, I didn't mean it. What I said about the kiss."

And I slip into the night before my face has any chance to demonstrate otherwise.

By the time I get home, it's light out. I open the door a crack and peer inside to see the coast is clear. I keep my footsteps light as I tiptoe down the hall. I wince as my foot falls down onto a creaky floorboard.

My mom pokes her head around the corner. "Where were you last night?" She narrows her eyes at me.

The lie comes easy. "Brett's house." I run a hand through my hair. "We didn't do anything risqué, if that's what you're wondering."

She nods nonchalantly and gets back to what she's doing. I drag myself up the stairs and drop onto my bed. I shut my eyes and tilt my head back. I really should catch up on sleep. I'm probably not going to make it the whole day the way things are going.

Deciding I'm going to have to get up and face the world sooner or later, I peel off my clothes and have a shower.

I keep the water scalding hot and my skin is raw by the time I step out of the shower. I don't care, though, it makes me feel clean.

I get dressed and do my make up. I make it out of there barely on time. I somehow get to school with minutes to spare. I don't see anyone I'm obliged to talk to on the way to biology. I drop down next to Theo. "Hey," I tell him. "How's it going?"

His eyes show a slight flicker of recognition but he doesn't answer. I press my lips into a firm line. "Fine, then," I mutter. "Don't talk to me."

The teacher walks to the front of the classroom and tells us what we'll be learning about today which is some crap which doesn't even sound like real words to me.

"Miss Caraway, would you like to lead us in a review of the assigned reading?"

I look up and furrow my eyebrows. "Mm...what?"

She looks at me condescendingly. "The chapter you had to read for homework."

I fake my best knowing face. "Oh, yes, that chapter. Of course. Let me just find the page."

"You didn't do it?" Theo says under his breath.

"Nope," I mutter dryly.

"Miss," Theo calls. "I'd like to review the chapter. I found it very interesting."

I take notes from what Theo says about genetic mutations even though I don't understand half of it. "Thank you," I whisper to him afterwards.

"No problem," he says. He glances over at my book. "Wrong page." His hand brushes over mine and flicks to another page. I wonder if he still cares about last night. I'm not sure if it would be better if he did or didn't, but a part of me secretly wishes he still cares about the close encounter.

I make it through the day with no other major mishaps apart from a constant drowsiness and fatigue.

I finally get woken up fully by the evening when Lydia comes over and dissects my wardrobe. She goes through the options, wincing at some and relishing at others. "Why are you doing this, anyway?" I ask, taking my eyes off my game of Candy Crush. "It's a lacrosse game, not Paris Fashion Week."

She sighs. "All eyes are going to be on you, sweetheart. The girlfriend of Devenford's captain." She stares into the distance as if reading the future. "Yes, yes. I can see it now." She frames me in her vision with her hands and I find the process all a little too overtly cliche for me. "Yes, definitely. That cute little black and white number back there. Perfect."

I shrug as she pulls out a black and white playsuit. "A bit over the top, don't you think?"

She stares at me blankly. "Nothing's ever too 'over the top' at your boyfriend's first lacrosse game of the season, sweetheart."

I let out a surprised sound as she tugs my arm and almost causes me to fall of the bed. "Okay, okay, I'm getting up, calm down," I reassure her.

I step into it and twirl around for her. "Good?"

"Good," she says, nodding thoughtfully. "But not - what's the word? - dazzling."

I sigh. "Okay, what else do you have in mind?"

She rummages through the growing mound of clothes on my floor. I cringe at how messy her styling session has turned my room. She digs out another number.

I like this one, I suppose. It's a fairly tight black dress that ends at my knees. "It's not particularly weather appropriate," I point out. "And I'm not sure if it'd make me look fat."

She groans. "Just try it on," she says. So I do. She studies me for a little while. "Perfect. I can see it. You look sophisticated, but also hot as hell."

I look in the mirror. "I'm still unsure if it's appropriate," I muse. "But I mean it's nice, I guess."

"Nice," she says. "I'm going to steal this next time I come over because of how good it looks on you."

I shrug, visibly uncomfortable at the flattery. "Thank you," I say. I grab my bag off the chair in the corner of my room. "I guess I better get going."

I give her a long hug and almost choke on a mouthful of the smell of her perfume. We both go our separate ways, and I head to Brett's house.

I stand outside Brett's house. I'm here to take him to the lacrosse game but I've never actually been here before and I'm worried that Satomi might grill me with questions to trip me up. I've gathered their relationship must be that of a parent and child from all that I've heard.

I raise my fist to the door but hesitate before knocking. I go over what I'm going to say and how I'm going to introduce myself. I pound my fist softly against the heavy black door. Not too aggressive, but not too soft, either.

A girl even shorter than me cracks open the door an inch and peers through the gap. She has a tiny voice and a timid face. She tends to look down every few words. "You must be Arden," she says in a squeaky, small voice. Everything about her seems to remind me of a mouse.

"No, just a Jehovah's Witness," I say jokingly.

She takes this seriously and looks down at her feet awkwardly. "Sorry," she mumbles. Shit. First slip up of the night.

She goes to shut the door, but I stop her by placing my hand on the other side. "Wait. I was joking," I say softly. "Yes, I'm Arden."

"Oh," she says. She blushes and keeps her eyes on the ground.

I rock on the heels of my feet. "You're his sister, aren't you?" I say, keeping my smile on mega-watt intensity.

"Yeah, I guess. He's like a brother to me. We grew up together," she says. I'm unsure whether she feels uncomfortable or whether she just usually accustoms the people around her to one word answers.

"So, um, is Brett here?" I ask.

She nods and opens the door a little wider gingerly. "Come in," she says. I squeeze through the ajar door. Brett's house is a modest, cosy abode. Brett's sister guides me to the living room, where I sit on one of the couches. I clasp my hands in my lap and shift uncomfortably in my seat.

"Sooo," I drawl as we wait for Brett. "What's your name?"

She looks up at me. "Lori," she says quietly. I almost miss it by how quietly she's speaking.

"Nice name," I tell her. "You go to Devenford as well?"

She shakes her head. "I'm in eighth grade."

I nod absentmindedly because I'm distracted by a wizened woman entering the room. She looks of Asian ethnicity and has an ancient look to her. Not because of her physical attributes, but just a wise, knowing look that could only come with age.

"You must be Satomi," I say, standing up. I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs.

She smiles slightly. "And you're Arden," she says. "I've heard a lot about you."

I don't know how to respond. Oh god, this is harder than I thought. "That's sweet of Brett, I suppose."

She nods. "He's a good boy," she says pointedly. "And you'll treat him well I better hear."

That's not intimidating at all. "Of course," I tell her.

"Take a seat," she says and sits down herself. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "You're a siren, I hear," she says.

"Yes," I confirm.

She nods with a slight smile. "I've heard they can be quite the killers," she says.

I furrow my eyebrows. She's definitely asking the tough questions. "So are all supernatural creatures," I point out. "Like werewolves, for example."

Something flickers in her eyes, but I can't tell what it is. Alarm? Suspicion? Offence?

She recomposes herself and smiles. "I'm sure Brett is going to be very happy with you," she says. I smile cordially.

We sit in silence until I speak again. "Do you know anything about Ian Caraway's pack?" I ask her. Shit. This wasn't part of the plan. I don't know what has possessed me to let my curiosity get the better of me.

Her expression is alarmed. "What about them?" she says, her voice strained.

"I want to find them," I tell her, this time more confidently. "I need to know if you know anything about them."

The discomfort shows on her face. "Why would you want to do that, girl?"

I meet her hostile stare with one of my own. "I need to know about Ian Caraway. He was my father."

She flinches at the mention of his name. "He was your father?" I nod. "I don't know anything about him but I met him once. Didn't talk about nothing much at all. But I can see him in you. The cheekbones, the nose. You're your father's daughter, for sure." She pauses. "I just hope for Brett's sake that's where the similarities stop," she says sourly.

I'm saved from having to say something from Brett coming down through the hall with his gym bag in tow. "Hey," he tells me and places a kiss on my head as he walks behind the couch. "You met Lori and Satomi."

"Yes," I say, standing up. "They're very nice."

Lori looks down again shyly. "We're gonna go now," Brett announces.

"Bye," Lori says timidly.

"See you later," he says to Lori and places a hand on my back to walk me out the door.

As Brett puts his gym bag in the back, he tells me about Satomi wanting to meet me. "I'm glad she seems to have warmed to you," he says, clipping in his seatbelt. "She's sort of protective after the deadpool."

I furrow my eyebrows as I turn the key in the ignition. "Deadpool? That sounds awfully violent."

"It was," he says. "The pack hasn't told you about it?"

"Well, you know, bits and pieces," I tell him as I reverse. "I know about the whole assassins murdering everyone on the list part."

"Most of my pack got killed," he says quietly. "I barely made it out alive."

I let out a stressed breath. "I'm glad you did," I say. He reaches for my hand on my thigh and squeezes it. "How much?"

"Hm?" he asks.

"You all had an amount of money reflecting how powerful you were. What was yours?"

"A million," he says. "You'd have no idea how hard people were trying to kill me. Arrows, thermal wire...it was brutal." I have a feeling that it would be suitable to be silent after this heart to heart conversation. Finally, Brett speaks again. "Who killed who?"

I feel my body language go stiff. "What are you talking about?"

"On that night, before you passed out, you said 'She killed him.' Who was it?" he inquires. His thumb strokes circles on the inside of my palm.

I clench my jaw. "My mom," I say. "She killed my dad."

His hand goes still. "She's a Siren as well? And she lost control of her abilities?"

"She wasn't a Siren," I tell him. I feel terrible for lying, but what would he do if I told him the truth? I don't want Brett to leave me, especially if he thinks I'm going to accidentally kill him. "She was a harpy."

Finally, that dreaded list of mythological birds that I had to go through with Theo is of some use. "You're in control of your powers now though, right?" Brett says. My heart feels like it's dropped right down to my feet at how scared he sounds.

And I can't help but thinking that Theo didn't grow fearful of me after I told him about encountering the Dread Doctors. Brett is on the opposite end of the spectrum, his voice shaky and uncomfortable when I told him about my mom.

"Yes, Brett," I say. I focus on keeping my heartbeat steady and only that. How could I tell the boy I love that I killed two innocents by accident when he's already afraid of me? How could I be any less than what he thinks I am? How can I let him see the parts of me that I aren't perfect?

And then I finally realise that this must be what Theo fights with constantly. The inner demon showing through the seemingly harmless facade. Maybe I'm as bad as the Dread Doctors but just haven't shown it to anyone.

The shocking realisation hits me that Theo has seen the most of me out of everyone and stuck by me. Through the bad, the good and the parts of my life I wouldn't want to show to anyone else, Theo has stayed when others would have gone. I haven't been able to be that open with anyone else, even Brett.

"Arden?" Brett pipes up. "You missed the turn."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," I mumble.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, his eyes searching my face.

I exhale loudly and put on my best smile. "No, everything's perfect," I say. Even though, what I'm thinking is much more. I'm thinking that I might be holding hands with the wrong person.

The school is brimming with activity from the big game. Devenford and Beacon Hills have always been enemies in lacrosse and act as if it's some blood war to avenge their dead ancestors.

I get a few dirty looks from other Beacon Hills students, most likely because of my affiliation with Devenford's lacrosse captain.

"Jesus," he mutters, squeezing my hand in his. "These kids look like they're going to brutally butcher you for being with me."

"Ah, yes," I say. "The decades long war between Devenford and Beacon Hills High. Probably runs right back into the Middle Ages."

He chuckles and his breath comes out as tendrils of vapour. "Probably," he draws me into a hug and kisses my cheek. "I'm going to go to my team. You have people to hang around with?"

I nod. Lydia has to be here. I weave my way through the crowd, drawing my jacket closer around me until I spot the flaming hair of the strawberry blonde banshee I was looking for. I tap her on the shoulder. "Arden!" she squeals. "We have to sit in the front row so we can cheer on your athletic god of a boyfriend."

"What about you?" I ask. "Aren't you going to be cheering Stiles on?"

She blushes a deep red that compliments her hair nicely. Knew it. "I'm joking," I tell her, but I'm only half joking.

Lydia shuffles into the seats straight behind where the benched players are seated. Devenford are only just arriving on the field. Brett is slipping on his shirt over his padding. Lydia nudges me hard in the ribs. "Ow, what do you want?" I ask her.

"Did you give him his good luck kiss?" she asks. I shake my head slowly. She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Oh my god, you obviously have never had a lacrosse captain as a boyfriend."

I stare at her blankly. "Uh, yeah. And?" Now's not the time to bring up my lack of history with hot athletes.

She all but pushes me out of the row. I almost trip. She gestures for me to go. "That's so embarrassing, Lydia," I say.

She persists in her unsubtle hand gestures and I groan. I shoulder my way through the half naked lacrosse players and tap Brett on the shoulder gingerly.

"Hm?" he says, turning around.

"I forgot to say good luck," I tell him. I get stand on my tiptoes and kiss him lightly.

I walk back to my seat. Theo did, in fact, decide to come and he seems to be engrossed in conversation with Lydia. I hear my name as I approach. "What're you guys talking about?" I say, lowering myself into my seat next to Theo.

"You are officially now a WAG," he says.

"No she's not," Lydia says, rolling her eyes. "He thinks that you kissing Brett before the game means you're a WAG."

"It does," he says.

"I'm not one of those highly publicised socialites that rock up in their Porsche to support their athlete boyfriend," I say. "I'm just a girlfriend."

Theo groans. "Exactly," he says. "That's exactly what a WAG is. A wife or girlfriend."

"Stop degrading women," Lydia snaps. "Tell me why we let this guy associate himself with us again, Arden."

He grins. "Arden loves my company, don't you?"

I sigh. "Don't flatter yourself."

"It's true, though," he says. He pulls me into a hug.

I look onto the field. Brett stares back at Theo and me, twisting his lacrosse stick in his hands.

"Theo," I scold him. I push him away and focus on the game. Brett shifts in his position and fixes his eyes on the game again.

"What are they doing?" Theo asks.

I sigh for probably the hundredth time in the past minute. "Trying to get the ball in the goal. Simple as that."

I keep my eyes glued to Brett. He catches the ball and propels himself forward towards the goals, launching the ball past the goalie and smashing into the back of the goals. I jump up from my seat, raising my arms and whooping. I ignore the Beacon Hills students shooting daggers my way with their eyes.

I feel Theo tug on my arm and pull me back to sit down. "Stop it," he mutters.

"Why?" I look a him blankly.

"You're probably embarrassing the poor guy," he says, gesturing onto the field. "I would be embarrassed if I was him."

"No way," I tell him. "You would so bask in the glory."

"Right," he says, leaning forward. "Keep believing that."

I shift my eyes to the field just in time to see Brett get ploughed over by Liam. Brett gets thrown across the field and lands with a crack I can hear from here. I don't realise I'm out of my seat until Theo is asking me what just happened.

"I don't know," I let out in a whispery breath. Brett's teammates are hauling him back to the bench. I can see he's in pain. His teeth are clenched and sweat drips down his face. When they sit him down in front of our seats, he lets out a wince.

I step over the bench and drop down into a crouch next to him. "Are you okay?" I ask him, grabbing his hand in mine.

"I'm fine," he lets out through groans. "I'll heal."

My lips part and I draw in a breath as he winces again. "Are you sure?" I ask him.

He nods. "I'm going to have to get back on soon, anyway. The benched players are absolute shit."

"Don't be arrogant, Brett," I tell him. He draws me in close to him and presses his lips to mine. I let out a soft sound as his tongue slides in between my lips.

I feel a hand grip my shoulder and pry me off of Brett. I turn around and frown at Theo. "I can't see the game," he says.

Brett turns around. "Then move," he says.

"No," Theo utters through clenched teeth.

Brett chuckles. "Calm down," he says. "Are you sure this isn't more to do with jealousy?"

A muscle in Theo's jaw feathers. "No," he says.

Lydia cuts in and shoots Theo a disapproving glare. "Maybe you should get back on the field now, Brett. Your team's sort of bombing without you."

Brett kisses me and follows this up with a pointed glare at Theo. He jogs back onto the field as I step back over to my seat next to Theo. He buries his face in his hands. "Why do you even date that asshole?"

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "He's not an asshole," I declare. "And he's a sweet guy."

Theo sighs but he seems more tired than angry. "Of course he is," he mutters bitterly.

I wonder what that's supposed to mean. When the halftime siren goes a short time later, I don't think much of it when Theo tells me he needs to go to the bathroom.

Brett is in the locker room so I'm left to talk to Lydia who rants about Theo's incompetence to leave Brett alone. "I can't believe he would attempt to jeopardise that moment," she says. "Does he -"

Lydia cuts off mid-sentence and tilts her head to the side as she looks at something behind me. I follow her gaze to Liam, who is running at us with a furiously purposeful pace.

"Something's wrong," Lydia says suddenly.

Liam stops before us, leaning over with his hands on his knees. "Theo and Brett," he says between heavy breaths. "You're going to want to see this."

Lydia and I follow him through the grass and down to the school building. I push the door open to the boy's locker room.

I can hear grunts from inside. I shoulder my way through the hoard of lacrosse players intent on the fight. I finally break through the small crowd. "Shit," I mutter under my breath, my mouth agape. Brett slams his fist into Theo's jaw, grabbing his shirt and pushing him up against the wall. Theo groans and with a new found strength, advances on Brett.

I stand there, unable to say or do anything, planted in my place. They're too fired up to look around them. Theo bunches up Brett's shirt in his fist. With a bloodcurdling crunch, he slams his fist into Brett's nose. I flinch as Theo punches Brett again, this time in the jaw.

Brett groans and his legs collapse beneath him, but Theo doesn't stop. He can't control himself as he kicks Brett in the side. Theo kneels down and punches Brett again. Brett gurgles up dark blood that's black in the dim light as he chuckles. "You should've seen her in bed," he says, his smile filled with red. Theo pauses, his mouth falling open.

And then he explodes.

He throws his fist at Brett with such ferocity that Brett struggles to keep his eyes open. He's losing blood at an astounding rate.

"Theo," I say quietly. Theo raises his head as if in a dream.

"No," he whispers. Theo lets go of Brett and stands up. "Arden, I don't - I didn't -" His voice catches and his eyes are glittering with tears. This is the first time I've seen him so emotional.

The other lacrosse players have left by now. I look down at Brett, who's spurting up blood from his mouth like a tap. I kneel down beside him and help him sit up. I prop him up beside a locker as I speak to Theo. "Theo," I say, my voice hoarse. "Why?"

Theo runs his hand through his hair and exhales. "Arden, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

I look up at him; his red cheeks, his watery eyes, his messy hair. "Leave," I say quietly.

He holds a hand out. "Arden-"

I turn away. I can't see him upset. "Leave, Theo," I say louder. "I said leave."

I hear the door slam shut.

I tip Brett's chin up, analysing the damage to his face. I mutter a few swear words as I push myself up from the ground and go looking in search of some towels. I'm not equipped with the proper medical knowledge to do much else and I'm sure he will start healing soon.

I tear the towels out of their dispenser and run them under water. I set to work dabbing them all over his face. The blood is coming too thick and fast to clean this way, so instead I hold them to his nose and mouth and alter between new ones.

Sometime later, I realise his body must be healing itself. The blood has clotted, making it easier to see the real damage. I go to put the towels in the bin. "Arden?" I hear the raspy voice of Brett behind me.

"You're awake," I say. "Are you alright? Are you healing?"

"Yeah," he says. He pushes himself up with a nothing more than a grunt and I breathe a sigh of relief. "Where's Theo?"

I shake my head. "I don't know," I tell him. Silence follows until I finally say, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He looks up. His face is already looking less broken and his bruises have faded to a light yellow.

"For Theo," I say, running my hand through my hair frustratedly. "I didn't know that he would do that."

"Arden," he says. "It's fine. You can't control his feelings."

I pace back and forth in front of him. "Did he tell you why he decided to start the fight?" I ask.

Brett gets up. I'm always surprised by how tall he is, especially when my shoes are flat. His mouth opens ajar as if he wants to say something but he closes it again. He shuts it and reopens it a number of times before finally making his mind up. "He didn't start it," he says. "I did."

It's my turn for the speechless opening and closing mouth routine. "But... he ignited it, didn't he?" I sound unsure of it, though. Theo wouldn't start the fight when he had so much riding on being in Scott's pack would he? I know what Brett is going to say before he even says it.

"Not necessarily," he says.

I sigh. Why do werewolf boys seem to have a special talent of not giving outright answers? "What do you mean by not necessarily?"

But this time, it is a straightforward answer. "He likes you, Arden," he says. "A lot. Maybe even love. But I can't stand him around you because I'm scared you'll leave me for him.

"When he was hugging you on the bleachers, I just - I wanted to beat the living crap out of him. And I finally gave in when I saw him on the way to the locker room."

I sit down and put my head in my hands. Theo liking me. Theo, who didn't care that I killed someone, Theo who listened to me talk about my mother. But also Theo who never treated me as anything more than a friend. Up until last night, maybe. I tread carefully around my next sentence. "But then why hasn't he said anything?"

Brett looks pointedly at me. "Because of us."

I get back up again. I need to walk it off. I pace across the length of the locker room. "But he had plenty of time to say something, right? I met you after I had met him and started dating you even later than that. He had plenty of time."

"He couldn't," Brett says. "He needed something else. He was planning something else. I don't know what, but you interfered with whatever he planned to do."

My mind is a jumble of thoughts and possibilities. "What would I have to do with anything?"

"How would I know?"

"Okay, okay," I say. "But why wouldn't you tell me?"

He clenches his jaw. "I'm scared that you'll leave me."

"Brett," I say gently. "Don't think that."

"It's sort of hard not to," he says softly, avoiding meeting my eyes.

I plop down next to him and study his face. "Does it hurt?" I ask.

He shakes his head. I brush my fingers over his cheek which seems to be almost fully healed. "I'm sorry," I mutter again, looking up at him.

"Don't be," he says, his voice hushed. He leans in and I part my mouth slightly.

His lips brush over mine once before coming back stronger and more lustful. His mouth opens for mine and our lips move together as if they're in sync. He pulls me on top of his lap.

"Aren't you going to go back out there?" I ask softly.

He grins. "They can believe I have a broken nose for a little longer."

I smile and take his face in my hands, pulling it to mine. His lips are soft as they work their way against mine.

He pulls away suddenly. "Someone's coming," he whispers. "Actually, no. A lot of someones are coming."

I check my phone. "The lacrosse game would've just finished." I push myself up in a hurry and smooth down my hair.

The lacrosse team is close enough that I can hear them as if they were in the room. "Try and look in pain," I tell him. He puts on an implausible grimace and I throw up two thumbs. "Great," I tell him but try to hide my amusement.

Devenford prep is obviously drunk on their success and come into the locker room by way of whooping and cheering. I'm still a Beacon Hills High School student and feel resentment towards the team as they bask in their victory.

I slink away to the corner of the room and leave Brett to congratulate his peers. I realise that my presence is probably not required anymore and slip out of the locker room in search of Lydia.

I bump into Lydia in the car park. "What happened?" she asks. "Theo wouldn't tell me anything except that you told him to leave."

I sigh. "We'll talk in my car," I say and nod towards the black Volkswagen to our right. "There's a lot to tell."

Lydia scurries to the car and I follow her at a much calmer pace. I'm barely in the door when she starts grilling me. "Well?" she presses. "Spit it out!"

I purse my lips. I don't know where to start. "Brett and Theo had a fight," I say.

She rolls her eyes. "Liam already told me that part. Tell me the full story."

I shut my eyes and let out a stressed breath. "I don't know what to do," I say softly.

I pour it all out to her. I tell her about everything. I tell her about being unsure of staying with Brett, having mixed feelings for Theo and even about the almost kiss last night. She listens all through it, nodding thoughtfully at the appropriate times and not interrupting.

"It's stupid," I conclude. "I have the perfect relationship, the perfect lacrosse captain boyfriend who takes me to French restaurants but I'm willing to throw it all away for a shady, erratic boy who also might or might not have psychopathic tendencies."

She presses her lips into a thin line. "Sometimes," she begins gingerly, "we don't get a say in who we love."

"I just - I don't want to leave Brett for Theo," I say. "Theo is hardly a reliable guy."

Lydia looks pointedly at me. "If you really love him," she says, "do something about it." She pauses. "I waited too long to kiss Stiles. I never thought that I would want something with a guy like that and I never even understood what I felt for him until that moment when I kissed him."

"You kissed Stiles?" I ask, my mouth hanging open.

"Yeah," she replies bitterly. "And now look at us. He hardly leaves Malia's side and I act like I don't care - I try so hard not to let it bother me - but every time I see them together, it just...it hurts more than anything ever could."

By now Lydia is tearing up, something I haven't seen and almost makes me feel a little hopeless that such a strong person could be reduced to tears.

I lean over to hug her. Even if the whole supernatural thing has been a real pain in the ass, nothing could replace meeting a best friend that you can tell everything too and cry to and squeeze in your arms.

I pull away with a final pat on the back. "I wish I had known, Lydia," I say sombrely. "Stiles doesn't know what he's missing out on. Lydia Martin: banshee, genius and total hottie. He'll come to his senses soon enough."

She laughs a little. "Thanks, Arden," she says. "I mean it. It feels good to have a friend like this again."

The back door opens suddenly and I jump. Brett piles in, accompanied by two other Devenford players who I don't know. The car fills with the smell of deodorant and I almost choke on how strong it is. "Is it alright if these guys tag along?" Brett asks.

Lydia lowers her eyebrows. "To what?"

"To the start of the season party," Brett says matter-of-factly.

I turn around. "You didn't tell me anything about a party."

"You're my date," Brett declares. "You have to come."

I exhale loudly. "Alright then," I say. "Lydia can come too, right?"

"I don't want to come," Lydia decides. "I have better things to do than get drunk and dance to bad music."

And that is how I end up at a Devenford Prep party lurking near the fridge and nibbling on expensive cheese that isn't mine. Hey, if they didn't want anyone touching the cheese they should've put it somewhere more secure than the fridge.

My ass hurts from sitting on a hard bench seat for god knows how many hours and I've now doubled my highest score on the game on my phone. I'm too miserable to be sober so I always seem to have a bottle at arm's length. I consider texting someone but assume they're doing something much more fun or important.

As soon as we had arrived at the party, Brett was intent on introducing me to anyone and everyone but as the night dragged on, he went off with his own friends and I was stuck with the cheese and wine.

There's about ten people already knocked out on the couches in the room beside the kitchen. I find myself feeling jealous of them. I decide that Brett probably won't notice if I decide to sneak out of the party unnoticed.

I dodge out of the way of rogue drunks and shoulder my way through the crowd of teens bumping and grinding.

I get out of there without bumping into Brett and am about to open the door to my car when I hear Brett calling my name. "Where are you going?" he calls, his face becoming clear through each step he takes towards me.

"Why are you leaving?" he asks. He reeks of alcohol and sweat.

I sigh. "This," I say, gesturing around me, "isn't what I want. I don't want my night to be spent alone with some cheese -" I ignore his weird look, "- and wine in a party full of posh private school students who don't even want to talk to me."

"Arden," he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry that I dragged you along to this. I thought it would be fun."

"It's not your fault," I say quietly. "I'm sorry I couldn't do this." A sudden wave of anger aimed at nothing in particular washes over me. "I don't know why you continue to try to make me that perfect girlfriend who you can show off at parties and introduce to your friends." He opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "And sometimes I feel like we shouldn't be together because you're too fucking good for me and you believe I'm a great person when I'm really not." My voice is quiet when I speak again. "I don't want you to realise all my flaws."

His mouth falls open but he shuts it quickly as if he's about to say something but thinks better of it. He stays silent for a while until he finally says, "You know I'd still like you with your flaws."

"I - I believe you," I say. "But I'm just really tired. I want to go home."

He looks at me sceptically. "Okay," he says. "Well, see you later, I guess."

I smile and nod, getting into my car. I drive away with the lie weighing heavily on my conscience. I don't believe him.