Note: I noticed that a lot of you are confused about this, so I need to clarify - Part I and Part II of this story occur at the same time.

In other words, while Brendon and The Hounds were doing their thing, (Y/N) was in New Mexico with Thor.

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ᴡᴇʟʟ, ɪ ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ғᴀᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ

❝ ɪ sᴀᴡ ʜɪᴍ ᴅɪᴇ. ❞

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"WHAT'S THE MATTER, SWEETHEART? YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE SEEN A GHOST."

Frozen in shock, it was all you could do to stare ahead in sheer disbelief, lips trembling as they tried to form words that just got stuck in your throat. Your thoughts were running rampant, mind racing at one thousand miles per hour as you tried desperately to make sense of what you were seeing.

There was a man in front of you. A man that looked like your bodyguard, sounded like your bodyguard, and even radiated the same irrefutable, icy confidence as your bodyguard. But he couldn't be your bodyguard. It was impossible, because that man was dead.

Brendon was dead.

Instinctively, you took one slow step backwards, holding one hand out in front of you defensively as you turned to look at your godfather with a face full of mixed emotions.

"Who the hell is that?" you demanded, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.

Fury was as calm as ever, and blinked once before responding to your question. "It's Brendon."

"No," the word spilled from your lips immediately and you shook your head to further clarify that you weren't satisfied with the answer, "No, it's not. It can't be. Brendon's dead. I saw him die."

"Actually," the man who you refused to believe was Brendon spoke up again, this time advancing forward; for every step he took, you took one back, until he eventually stopped, "you saw the quinjet die. Me, on the other hand..."

"Stop it," you interrupted, lowering your outstretched hand once you noticed that you were shaking.

You didn't want to believe that it was really Brendon. Because that would mean that he had been alive this entire time, running around with God knows who doing God knows what while you were at home – falling apart from the inside out, in so much pain that it had often become unbearable.

It would mean that he lied to you again.

Nevertheless, the presence that he carried with him was undeniable, one that no one could recreate no matter how hard they tried. And so despite your unwillingness to believe that this man truly was Brendon, you drew in a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him.

The moment your eyes met, you felt that familiar fire ignite in your very soul, and any and all doubt you had flew out the window, and you knew.

"You," you said softly, voice shaky as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him, "son of a bitch."

Brendon flexed his jaw and raised one brow, then looked to Fury. "Told you. You owe me ten bucks."

"You've been alive this entire time?!" you yelled, starting to get pissed off at his clear lack of interest over explaining himself.

He turned back to you, face completely expressionless. "Yes."

"So you lied to me? Again?"

"Yes."

"Damn it, Brendon!" you growled, balling your hands into fists and frowning at him angrily, "This is fucking serious! Can't you give me an answer that's not comprised of one syllable only?!"

"Sure, I can," he shrugged, slowly walking towards you, "When you stop asking questions which you obviously know the answers to. I mean, really, (Y/N)," he stopped inches away from you and lowered his voice, brown eyes boring right through you, "you're just wasting both of our time, here. We could be making out right now."

Without thinking twice about it, you raised your hand in the air and brought it down swiftly, landing a harsh smack against Brendon's cheek. His head turned to the side from the impact, and he clenched his jaw as his skin began stinging.

Your breathing was harsh as you let your anger consume you; you were about to go in for another one, but before you could strike him again, his hand gripped your wrist tightly, as he stopped you without turning his head back forward.

Struggling against his vice grip, you grunted and groaned as you tried to push yourself away. "Let me go! Get your hands off me!"

"Calm down," he commanded in a cool voice, staring you down.

"Fuck off!" you spat, managing to release yourself from his hold and pushing yourself backwards and away from him.

Taking shallow breaths, you whipped around to face your godfather, who was standing still and as stoic as ever – it only furthered your rage.

"And you," you cast an accusatory look his way, "you knew about this. And what- you, you helped him? Helped him lie to me?"

"(Y/N)-"

"You're supposed to be the one person... the one person that I can trust. You're supposed to be my family and you- you..."

Your voice broke before you could get the rest of your words out, and you turned and hurried off before either man could see you cry. The emotions had gotten the better of you, and you had no desire to break down in front of them – because you knew that either one or both of them would try and comfort you, and right now you wanted nothing to do with either of them.

The only sound you could hear as you tore down the hallway was the deafening pounding of your heart in your ears, and all you could feel was your erratic pulse against the skin of your neck and your wrists. You were utterly consumed by your emotions, blinded by your rage and paralysed by your hurt.

You had been in agony for the past twelve months, and finding out that it had been over nothing was incredibly upsetting, to say the least.

Yelling out, you closed your eyes and tangled your hands in your hair, tugging at it in frustration as you approached a corner. As you rounded the corner, you crashed into Spencer; he gripped your arms and steadied you, his brow creasing as he noticed how upset you clearly were.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked in concern, "What's-"

"Did you know?" you cut him off sharply, grinding your teeth as you looked at him reproachfully.

He seemed genuinely confused at your question, but that meant nothing to you. Not when everyone around here seemed to be so extremely skilled in the art of acting.

"Know what?"

"About Brendon," you snapped, growing agitated, "Did you know?"

Spencer squinted in perplexity, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of what you were asking. "(Y/N), what are you-"

"(Y/N)!"

Brendon came hurdling around the corner, screeching to a halt once he saw you and Spencer. He had been frowning in apprehension previously, but his face changed back to his default poker face when he noticed his best friend.

The tension surrounding all of you was tense and undeniable, but you broke it with a bitter laugh.

"Oh, wow, what great timing," you scoffed, putting on a fake smile as you looked at Brendon, then turning to Spencer and cocking your head in your bodyguard's direction, "He's not dead, apparently. Just a liar."

You stormed off again, in the direction that would take you the furthest away from Brendon as quickly as possible. But you didn't have to worry about him following after you, though, because now he was preoccupied with a new challenge.

Spencer gazed at his best friend in disbelief.

"What the hell?"

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Thank you for reading x

Note: Don't forget to comment which chapters you want to see from Brendon's POV in the chapter titled
'A/N - Vote Here: Brendon's POV'