"Arden?" he asks, stunned. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same to you," I say. "You're a werewolf?"

"You know about werewolves?"

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" I retort.

He rolls his eyes. "Well, forgive me for thinking you were here for a friendly high school reunion," he says. He holds the door open wider and gestures. "Come in."

I reluctantly walk in and take a seat on the office chair shoved under his desk. "What the hell are you doing in a college in Portland, Lahey?"

"You know how I went to France, yeah?" he asks. I nod. "Well, I started to miss the US. Like, I didn't really know what to do with myself over in France. So I came here and started college a year earlier."

"But — well, no offence — how did you get into college without, you know, finishing school?"

He shrugs. "Allison's dad knew someone here."

"Oh," I say awkwardly.

"Why are you here, Arden?" he says abruptly.

I chew on my lip. "I heard you knew about Ian Caraway's pack — my father's pack. I want to know about them."

"Ian, as in your father? The dead pack leader? Man, this is too many degrees of separation for me to distinguish between at the moment."

I let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I know," I say. "It's something about my mom killing my dad and now his new pack leader is pissed. You know how alphas are. Totally arrogant and sadistic." Like Theo.

He sits down at the foot of his bed. "Forgive me," he says, "but why aren't they going after your mom?"

I bite down hard on my bottom lip. "They did," I say. "She's dead."

He widens his blue eyes eyes. "Oh, my god," he breathes. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

I nod awkwardly, clasping my hands together. Don't cry, Arden, I tell myself. "That's why I'm here," I point out. "I need information on the pack my father was the alpha of before he died."

"The Vinceret Pack," he says. "It's a Latin name. The pack that conquers."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "What a friendly name," I mutter dryly.

"Right?" he says with a slight laugh. "Anyway, as you said, Ian Caraway used to be the alpha." He pauses, deep in thought.

"And? What about the alpha now?"

"I-I don't know," he says. "Nobody outside the pack knows."

I swear under my breath, dragging out the consonants angrily. "Shit." I sigh angrily. "Nobody?" I demand. "Nobody at all?"

"Calm down," he says. "It's not my fault they have security like a Columbian drug cartel."

"Then I need to find someone in the pack," I say suddenly.

He widens his eyes. "Actually, there's a woman that works in a bar on the way to Beacon Hills from here. She left the pack."

"Yes!" I exclaim. "That's perfect."

He tears a note off of a pad and scribbles down an address and name. Veronica Mangano. I shove the note in my pocket. "Anything else you want to know?" Isaac asks.

"What about the actual pack? What are they like?"

He huffs out a breath. "Warriors. They're all like warriors. Eighty of them, approximately."

I press my lips painfully together. "Good luck to me, then." I feel almost hopeless. In my rage, I'd been blindsided, adrenaline coursing through my veins and telling me I could kill them all. Now I wasn't so sure. I would have to kill them one by one. It's like the three hundred Spartans against the thousands of Persians. It could work out.

"Do you know anything about my mom?" I blurt out. I clap a hand over my mouth and shut my eyes momentarily.

He hesitates. "Your mom," he begins, as if seeing how the words feel in his mouth. "She was a supernatural assassin. People paid big money because of how easy and clean her kills were. No evidence, no fingerprint." The four million. That's where the four million came from.

I swallow hard. "She was a killer," I breathe. My mouth is dry like sandpaper. "She was a hitman."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have said anything so soon."

I shake my head quickly. "No, no," I say. "I wouldn't have wanted you to keep it from me." I get to my feet. "I should get going. Thank you for everything. I hope we can catch up again some day."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Aren't you staying in Portland? Even just for the day?"

I shake my head and smile. "I, uh, I sort of have someone special I have to go back to."

He nods. "It was good seeing you," he says. "Tell Scott and the rest I say hi."

I feel a knot in my stomach. I can't tell him that Scott is dead and my boyfriend killed him. I put on a fake smile and speak as convincingly as I can. "Of course," I say. "Bye, Isaac." Before he can farewell me back, I take off down the hall as quickly as I can.

I hurry back through the dorm and make my way back to the cafe where my car is parked. After wandering around trying to locate any buildings that have a déjà vu feel to them, I eventually find the car.

I punch in the address into the GPS and jam the key into the ignition. The car has barely started when I zoom away from the city, the Welcome To Portland sign reducing to little more than a dot in my rearview mirror.

My stomach is rumbling and my throat is parched by the second hour. After a quick stop at a roadside diner, I set off again, this time less malnourished. I'm not even that tired.

It's strange, really. In my time as a siren, I haven't really prioritised sleep that high on my list. If my siren powers were still absent, I wouldn't have been able to go without sleep this long. Being supernatural has almost caused a continuous buzz in my veins; a continuum of adrenaline.

I check the GPS. Visiting Veronica's bar will only create one minor disruption in my route to Beacon Hills. Good, I think to myself. I can get back to Theo as soon as possible.

That night, I finally get to the bar. A big neon pink sign lets off a warm lambency that reads: Rapture Bar. I park my car on the street and make sure I've locked it before walking down the road to the bar. A few drunks stumble past me, but apart from that, there's nothing particularly threatening.

I take a deep breath and smooth down my dress. After searching up online what the bar was like, I found it was quite a sophisticated establishment and made the move to get changed in a restroom nearby.

I step into the bar, the smell of hard liquor and the warmth of body heat hitting me like an avalanche. People are deep in conversation as music swells around me and people carry glasses to tables. I swallow hard and make my way to the actual bar.

A rainbow of bottles are arranged neatly on shelves behind the bar, ranging from wine to hard liquor to champagne. I sit down at one of the stools and shift uncomfortably as a bartender comes my way. "Hello, honey," the woman says in a heavy Southern accent. I wonder what she's doing up this neck of the woods. "What would you like?" Her words are like liquid sugar, her vowels drawn out silkily smooth and her consonants barely pronounced.

I force a smile. "A scotch, please."

"For sure," she says. She turns away and pours me the glass, bronze liquid flowing out of the bottle. When she turns back, I slide her the money and she sets the glass down onto the lacquered wooden surface.

"Is Veronica Mangano working tonight?" I ask. "She's an old family friend of mine."

Her hazel eyes fly wider open. "Why, you're lookin' at her."

I jolt upright and I must look damn well surprised. She's a petite lady, no taller than five feet. I must've overlooked her as a part of such a powerful pack. "I heard that you knew my father. Can we talk outside where it's less noisy?"

She looks over the rest of the workers in the bar before turning back to me and nodding. "Come on."

She walks out of the side of the bar, wiping her hands on her apron nervously. She pushes open a door that says exit above it and disappears into the night, the landscape painted black with shadows.

I follow her as best I can to a quiet corner. She stops and looks up at me, smiling. "What is it that you wanted to know, darling?"

"I need to tell you about the Vinceret Pack," I say.

She pales, her skin having a greyish pallor cast upon it. Her eyes are aflame with worry and her mouth is slightly open. Her hands tremble and her words are rapid as she talks. "Get away from here," she demands. "We don't want none a' your evil here. I left the pack."

In a quick movement, I slip the knife out of my coat and press it against the middle-aged woman's throat. "Tell me about my father's pack."

She giggles nervously. "I don't know much, sweetheart."

"Well, then tell me what you do know," I say through gritted teeth.

"You don't understand," she says, fear filling her eyes. "They'll kill me."

I purse my lips. "They won't have to kill you if I do it first. Now talk."

"I can't," she stammers. "They'll find out. They always do."

I swear under my breath. "I will kill you," I say. "Just as they killed my mother."

"P-Please," she says. "I didn't think they would actually do it."

"Yeah?" I demands. "Well, they did!"

"H-He wanted you," she stutters. "H-He wanted you to go with him."

I feel a rage bubbling up inside of me. "Who is he?" I demand.

"I c-can't," she says, beginning to weep. "I c-can't."

I sigh exasperatingly, and with one swift slice, I slit her throat. Her body goes limp in my hands as blood gushes from her neck, and for a second I think I'm going to be sick. I drop her lifeless body to the ground with a thump. I shove the knife back into my coat, force myself to be calm, and walk back inside with a casual stroll.

I weave my way in between people and walk out the door. My legs aren't shaky, my hands aren't fidgety and my face gives nothing away. Nobody gives me a second look as I exit the bar. The night is calm as still water and the stars are bright beacons overhead. Sweat beads on my forehead as I start the car up again. Surprisingly, though, it hasn't affected me as much as it has before.

I feel almost like it was fair.

I glance up to the mirror. My eyes are hollow and tired, my lips are drawn into a permanent frown and my eyebrows are slightly furrowed. I almost don't recognise myself. My mannerisms are sullen and laborious and I don't ever smile unless Theo makes me.

Is this what I am now? Am I nothing but a killer?

I get jerked out of my reverie by the sound of cop sirens behind me. Are you serious? I groan and jerk the wheel to pull over. I check that there's no blood anywhere before lowering the window. I try not to let my nerves show as the police officer comes over and peers into the car.

"Licence, please?"

"Sorry?" I sound a lot more defensive than I intend to.

"You were over the speed limit by ten miles," he says.

"Right," I say quickly. "Of course." I reach over for my wallet and produce the card, handing it to the officer.

"Have you been drinking tonight?" he asks.

I didn't have any of the scotch, did I? "No."

His eyes flicker to my dress before he widens his eyes. "She has weapons," he calls out. He draws out a handgun. "Get out of the car nice and slowly. No sudden movements."

Shit. I step out of the car and put my hands up. He roughly grabs my hands and secures them behind my back. "Anything you say or do will be held against the court of law," he says.

"I have something to say," I mutter. I feel the siren voice bleeding through my usual one. "Game over."

The officer's grip goes slack and I hear the sound of someone struggling for breath. I hear the thump of someone falling behind me and I see the shapeless form of the second officer tumble to the ground. I swallow hard, glancing around to make sure that there's no other cars on the road.

The road was deserted, anyway — a highway on the way back to California. I figure that the lack of cars is due to the late hour. Nonetheless, I have to think on my feet. As if a light bulb as gone off in my head, I quickly reach inside the car and click open the glove box.

I wrap my fingers around the matchbox and take it out. I slip the box into the pocket of my jacket as I open up the trunk of my car and lift the bottle of petrol out. I drag the bodies so that they're perpendicular to the car.

I lift the hood of the cop car and douse the whole thing in the thick, oily accelerant. I hold the matchbox in my hands before slipping my jacket off and throwing it next to the car. I take a deep breath and light the match.

And with a trembling hand, I let it go.

The flames spread quick, heat licking my face. I make a start towards my car, and take off as quickly as I can, the smell of burnt petrol and melting flesh wafting in through the window.

I bite my lip. I've just left a trail of bodies from Portland to Beacon Hills.

The next morning, I arrive in Beacon Hills. It might just be paranoia, but something seems off, almost as if the dynamics have changed. I'm driving down the same streets and looking out the window to the same Beacon Hills, but something seems different.

I get to my house — which has its lights on, for some reason — and press the button on the remote for the garage door to open. The door folds open and I park the car, eager to find out why the hell my house has been inhabited over the day or so I was gone.

I push open the front door and charge inside. "Why are you in such a rush?" Theo laughs.

"I, uh, I thought it was someone else," I say awkwardly, shutting the door behind me.

"Come here, Arden," he says. He all but scoops me up into his arms and I have to allow myself to break out into a giddy smile.

I pry his hands off. "I really need food right now," I say, walking into the kitchen.

He sighs as I begin to open the fridge. "Did you find out any valuable information?"

I shrug, still searching through the fridge. "The pack's called the Vinceret Pack. Pretty pretentious, if you ask me. It has about eighty members, all of whom are trained warriors."

He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. "Mm, that sucks, doesn't it?" he murmurs with a slight chuckle.

"Yeah, well at least the alpha's a man. He won't have much going on up there, probably," I point out, tapping my head.

Theo doesn't seem to be listening to what I'm saying. "I'm so glad to have you back," he mutters into my ear.

I turn around to face him and he pushes me up against the counter. "You're going to have to wait," I say, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm hungry as hell."

"I don't think I can," he says, his fingers playing all sorts of patterns on my back.

He goes in for the kiss quickly, his lips working at a rapid pace against mine. His hands find their way down to my butt as he presses me closer to him. His tongue runs the length of my lower lip before exploring its way around my mouth. His mouth moves faster and more roughly against mine as his fingers slide their way up under my top.

I groan against his lips as he slowly lifts the top above my head and discards it on the floor. He begins to suck gently on the skin at my neck, his hands feeling their way around my body.

"Theo —"

The young, girlish voice coming from someone else jolts me out of the euphoria. Tracy stands in the doorway, her mouth wide open and her eyes bulging out of her head. "What the hell is going on?" she asks.

"The little ones are here?" I whisper-yell at Theo, side-eyeing him.

"I never knew they would be here here," he stammers.

I cover my chest with my arms and shoot Theo one more look before turning back to the younger girl. "Tracy, honey, what seems to be the problem and why are you in my house?" I say in a sickly sweet voice.

She knits her eyebrows together. "I live here," she says.

I cock my head to the side. "I'm sorry? Can you please repeat that? You know, the part about you living here."

She purses her lips and her eyes dart towards Theo. "Arden," he says cautiously. "I needed a place for the pack."

I look at Tracy and smile. "Tracy, may you please kindly fuck off while the guy who acts like your daddy and I have a chat?"

She glares at me. Why do fifteen year olds have to be so angry? "Make it quick," she says, as if I'm taking orders from her. "I need to speak to Theo." And with that, she leaves.

"Theo, what the fuck?" I demand, turning to the alpha once she's gone.

"I thought you'd be okay with it," he says.

I run a hand through my hair. "Yeah, well no offence, but I'm starting to feel like a teen mom right now," I say. "So you get your little experiments out of here or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else you can't stay here either," I say.

He takes a step towards me and keep his voice low when he speaks. "Arden, there is something coming. Something big and ancient and something that, if we don't all stay together, will kill us all."

I chew on my lip, looking up at him. "What is it?"

"La bête du Gévaudan," he says. "Its only purpose is to kill. That's why I need to keep my pack close and we need to seal the alliance with Scott soon."

"What alliance?" I ask.

"The one that keeps us all alive, Arden," he says. "Because the beast that's coming is going to kill us all if we don't stick together."

"Do your little minions know about this?"

"Don't call them that," he sighs. "And most of them do. I just need to find Hayden and Corey."

"I will call them whatever I want to," I announce.

"Are you coming with me to find the others?" he asks.

I sigh, folding my arms over my chest. "Of course I am, Theo."

A few minutes later, Theo and I are on our way to finding Hayden. "She's at the station," Theo says, his eyes squinting slightly at the road ahead.

I sift through the paperwork on my lap as he drives on, music gently playing from the stereo. "Okay," I begin. "So eleven o' clock, we're arriving at the church."

"That might be a problem," he says.

"And why is that?"

"You really think that I can walk into a church without bursting into flames?"

"Ha. Ha," I say with a blasé tone. "Very funny, Theo. Anyway, back to what matters. My cousins and uncles will carry the casket into the church. Then the ceremony." I flicker to my next sheet of paperwork. "Then we go to Beacon Hills cemetery. And after that is the reception at a tearoom in the cemetery. And that's it."

He nods slowly. "Who's coming?"

"Well I don't know for sure," I say, "but family, friends and colleagues of my mom's, you." My eyes flicker over the paper as the car slows to a stop. "What do you think of carnations? At first I thought it'd be nice but now I'm unsure whether I should've gone for just roses."

He looks over at me. "You're trying to distract yourself," he says matter-of-factly.

"Hm?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"You're trying to keep yourself from thinking about her," he says.

I look down at the papers again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He places two fingers under my chin and tips my face up to see his. "You don't need to pretend. You can cry if you want to."

I purse my lips. "I don't want to," I say. And with that, I open the door and step out of the car, grateful for the fresh air rolling over me.

Theo strides into the station and I follow after him. The small frame of Hayden Romero comes around the corner. "You shouldn't be here," the girl says, her eyes flitting a glance over Theo and me.

"Why not?" Theo says, grinning. "My record's spotless."

"Are you going to tell me what you saw last night?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"It was exactly like the painting. Exactly what you said," she says. She's talking about La Bête.

"Have you told anyone else?" Theo asks.

"I didn't think you'd want me to," she says quickly.

"You're right."

"But I don't know why," she points out.

He lets out an amused sigh. "And you don't have to. Look, that thing out there is going to kill a lot of people. But it's not going to kill us. Not if we're together."

Oh, god. He's doing that family sticking together thing again, I think to myself, rolling my eyes.

Her phone vibrates and she looks down at it briefly. "Anything else you want to tell me?" Theo asks.

"Not really," she says. She makes a move to turn away, but Theo reaches out to grab her wrist.

I grins menacingly. "Look, I don't want this to sound like a warning, and I definitely don't want it to sound like a threat. But you can't hide anything from me, Hayden. Remember that." He releases her arm. "Come on, Arden."

I watch as Hayden hurries away before turning and following Theo. "You're such a creep," I say.

He turns around to face me. "What?"

"I said you're a creep," I say. "She doesn't have to tell you everything."

"This is my pack, Arden," he says. "I deserve to know everything."

His steps have become heavier as he stalks back to the car. "Theo, are you seriously going to throw a tantrum on me?"

"Throw a tantrum? Is that what you think I'm doing?"

I nod, folding my arms over my chest. "That is exactly what you're doing."

He sighs. "You can worry about your little Vinceret pack and I'll worry about mine."

I stare at him. "I want you to realise something, Theo," I say slowly. "In chess, the King is the piece you kill to win, but the queen is the most powerful one."

"So?"

"So you need me by your side to win this game more than I need you."