Chapter Text
At about eight at night, Chris Argent arrived to his new home, and it only took him a minute to realize nobody was there. “Allison?” he called out, before going to her room. He knocked before entering – (no need to repeat that one time, after all) - but when he didn’t hear anything, he barged in, ready to cover his eyes; however, the room was empty, the windows open and blowing the curtains every which way. He went in and shut them, his eyes slowly going around the room. Walking towards the door, but still keeping his focus, he paused when he noticed a small white note on her laptop addressed to him.
Dad,
Hunting Isaac Lahey.
Don’t wait up.
-A.
Argent picked up the note, pursing his lips, before, “Stiles?” he called out loudly. He strained his ears for the familiar rock music Stiles liked, but heard nothing. “You better be with your sister.” He muttered under his breath before going to his son’s room. Opening the door with absolutely no preamble, he growled when it was also empty.
Turning on his phone, he called his daughter first. She picked up on the second ring. “Can’t talk. I’m fine.” She said sharply before hanging up. Sighing, Argent called Stiles next. This time, no one picked up.
Ending the call, he looked back down at the note his seventeen year old daughter left him and for the first time since getting to California wondered if he did the right thing bringing them here.
-x-
Several miles away, Allison crept quietly outside a row of mismatched houses under the disguise of riding her bike. After hitting yet another rock with her bike – and consequently almost flipping over and almost dying– she curse her dad under her breath for giving Stiles a Jeep and then cursed Stiles for getting the Jeep.
“315.” She muttered softly, looking at the text message she had sent herself. Whipping her head back and forth, she squinted to see the numbers on the houses.
“What the hell are you doing?” The voice made Allison jump. Quickly her mind registered the threat level. The tone was bored, not upset or confused. That was a good sign. Turning around, she was met with pale green eyes and a nice body.
“Oh.” She blushed, looking away from the naked chest. The boy rolled his eyes and sighed. Allison looked up in time to see him throw away the trash he had brought out with him. “Um, I’m just looking for Isaac Lahey’s house.” She responded like she was asking a question.
He gave her a critical look. “Why?” he asked a bit rudely.
She shrugged slightly, getting defensive. “We have English together. I’m new. I thought…”
“Thought?” he repeated, making a hand movement for her to continue, but also indicating he wanted nothing less. Slowly, he walked over to her, and her left hand reached for her Mace. “Your name is Allison, right? Yeah, Lydia mentioned you.”
That surprised her and she momentarily stop reaching. “Lydia? The redhead?” He nodded, stopping at her bike. Up close, she saw that he was the boy Lydia had met up with in the hallway earlier that day. “Oh.” She whispered. “You’re Jackson.”
He smirked, leaning against her handle bars. Her fingers wrapped around the mace bottle. “Oh, so you know about me, huh?” he smiled and looked at her with pretty eyes that she assumed were supposed to make her feel seduced; instead, they just made her feel uncomfortable. “What else do you know?” he said, turning his head.
“Nothing.” She said, setting her shoulders up.
He laughed slightly. “Are you even here to see Lahey? Or is this a ploy to meet me? No need to be coy, Allison. I’m always up for pretty girls.”
“Wow.” She mouthed, eyes losing all warmth. “Excuse me.” She gripped the handlebars, kicking the petal with her feet. She was about to move, about to tell him to move, when suddenly –
“Stop it! Stop it, please, Dad!”
“What the hell is that?” she asked, eyes wide and afraid. She dropped her bike, running towards the screams. Jackson sighed and followed reluctantly. Reaching the house where the noise was coming from, she paused when the shouts suddenly ceased. The wind seemed so loud in her ears after that adrenaline rush, and she waited for another sound.
It only took a moment and the yells started up again.
“We have to do something!” she exclaimed, running towards the front door. She almost yelped when a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. “What the fuck?” she snapped, eyes ablaze.
“Don’t bother.” Jackson said simply, shrugging. “They do it every night. The neighborhood is just used to it by now.” He told her, eyes flickering up to the white house. Allison’s eyebrows furrowed angrily and she turned to the house.
It was only then that she noticed the house number was the one she was looking for earlier: 315. “Isaac?” His name escaped her lips.
“He could leave, you know?” Jackson said next to her, softer now. “Could move in with McCall, but…”His eyes were cold again. “He doesn’t, so…Who cares?” Jackson pushed himself off the fence, pulling Allison with him. She struggled against him and went to break his arm – just twist the arm like so, Allison, her dad whispered to her – but then she remembered that her brother put Jackson on the watch list.
To be honest, this wasn’t the best moment to prove whether or not her brother was correct. She had her arrows, but she was expecting Isaac’s weakness, not Jackson’s carelessness. She wasn’t prepared for him.
Not yet, at least.
Don’t let anger control you, Allison. Pick your battles.
“We have to help him.” She said between gritted teeth as he brought her back to her bike. Another voice in her head, one that sounded like Stiles now, reminded her that the boy she wanted to help was also the boy she came to scope out in order to kill later.
“Leave, Allison. You don’t know what you’re doing, and I don’t care enough to give you a lesson.” He told her, eyes sharp. Internally, she didn’t know if he was threatening her or not, and she sarcastically thought about the many different ways to kill him.
We don’t hurt humans. That’s our one rule. We protect them.
“Fine.” She snapped, getting back onto her bike after yanking her hand out his grasp. “Fine.” She repeated hard, before biking away as hard as she could. Tears stung her eyes as the screams echoed throughout the street and in her mind.
We protect those who cannot protect themselves.
-x-
Across town and around the same time, Stiles walked slowly but purposely towards the little clinic just off Peach Ave. He could feel anger radiating off his skin, and somewhere in his mind, he could hear his father yapping up a storm about control and anger and whatever other bullshit rule was in that particular lesson.
But, he thought to himself, he was a teenager. He was allowed to disobey; it was practically written in his DNA.
“Can I help you?” a friendly voice called from behind a desk.
Stiles smiled tightly. “Yeah, sorry, man. Just looking for Scott McCall. I heard he worked here.” He pulled his head down, scratching the back of his neck.
The vet – Deaton, by the looks of his nametag – nodded slowly. “He’s not here at the moment. Can I leave a message?” he asked, but Stiles could already tell that he was suspicious – which frankly was a bit ridiculous. Stiles could definitely just be a friend coming in to say hi or something.
Was Beacon Hills this crazy that everyone and anyone was a suspect?
“Yeah, thanks.” Stiles grinned a bit menacingly. Internally, he wondered whether the vet catered to other kinds of animals besides cats and dogs. Probably. “Tell him that Stiles is looking for him.”
Deaton nodded again, a weird smile coming to his face. “Is that a first name or a last one?”
“First.” Stiles answered without thinking. He paused. “Argent is the other. Stiles Argent.” He lied a little awkwardly, nodding before walking backwards into the door. “See ya.” He waved with two fingers before going to his brand new used Jeep.
Stiles didn’t look back at the clinic when he climbed into his car, and instead throw his dead phone onto the seat next to him. He took a second to calm down, but then decided that it was more important to find Scott McCall than it was to drive safely.
The cops in California were probably terrible anyway. They didn’t even have a real department here – just a sheriff.
Weaving in between traffic, he didn’t know whether to berate or congratulate himself on lying to the vet. Most likely, Deaton knew nothing and was just McCall’s employer, but just in case, the Argent name always did sent shivers down the bad guys’ spines.
The truth was that he wasn’t an Argent – not really. Technically, his last name was Stilinski and his first name was a jumbled mess that he couldn’t even pronounce correctly. Why his mother and father hadn’t changed his name into something more manageable was beyond his comprehension. It wasn’t like it was going to matter to his dead biological mother or his deadbeat sperm donor of a father.
He slapped his hands hard on the steering wheel. “No need to think about that, Stiles.” He muttered to himself. “Focus on finding McCall.”
-x-
“You didn’t get home until three am.” Allison stated in the car as they drove to school. He raised an eyebrow.
“And yet, I feel extremely refreshed.”
She sighed loudly, looking out the window and played with Stiles’s dead phone, twirling it between her fingers. “What is our game plan today?”
“Well, we should probably hunt Scott McCall ASAP. What do you think?” Stiles said, an edge to his voice.
Allison glared at him. “I think that’s an incredibly stupid idea that will get us killed. Alphas are strong, Stiles. I shouldn’t need to tell you that.” She snapped bitingly, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “We need to kill off the betas first. They make him strong, but they also make him weak. The sooner we put them down, the sooner we can put him down.”
“Yeah…” he muttered, parking in front of Beacon Hills High School. Allison breathed out softly and they both stayed in the car for a moment.
“I know you feel betrayed, but…”
“I don’t feel betrayed.” Stiles cut her off. His eyes were cold. “We’re here to do a job – not make friends.” He grabbed his bookbag from the backseat before getting out the door. Allison bit her lip, but jumped up when she saw Isaac Lahey cross in front of the Jeep.
His pale skin and dark eyes were the only indication anything could possibly be wrong; his skin was completely free from any mark or bruise. “Isaac! Wait up!” Allison heard someone yell. She looked over towards Stiles, who hadn’t walked very far from the car, and saw that he was completely frozen.
She watched from inside the car as Scott McCall joined Isaac, watched as they smiled at each other, watched as Scott threw Isaac a lacrosse stick, watched as they walked together into school.
Climbing out of the car, Allison looked over towards Stiles. He looked back with dark eyes before regaining his step. He walked with his head bowed, and Allison could only watch.
-x-
Scott McCall smiled a lot, and it bothered the fuck out of Stiles.
He mostly talked to Isaac Lahey, while occasionally talking to a bodacious blonde Stiles never would have figured Scott could pull as well as Lydia Martin, the girl from yesterday.
She was wearing a short dress today that emphasized her legs, and that bothered the fuck out of him too.
“I hate this school.” He moaned later to Allison, while she took some books out of her locker. It was two periods later, and he was seemingly over his sarcastic fury and had moved onto some kind of tired anger. “I hate these people. Let’s go back home.”
“We are home.” She responded sadly. He groaned and didn’t respond. They were silent for a little, until Allison turned to him. “Hey…I think you should focus on Jackson Whittemore. Find out what you can about him. We’ll focus on Scott later, okay?”
Stiles looked up, an eyebrow raised. “Jackson? The jackass? Why?”
She shrugged, lips pursed. “Just a feeling.”
He sighed but nodded. “Whatever. I guess if I’m going to be in hell, I might as well talk to Satan.” He scolded before kicking off the locker. “See you in gym. Have fun in English. Lahey, right? I have him in Trig and Chemistry. Hadn’t noticed yesterday.”
She paused. “Yeah, I’ll probably do it after school.”
He nodded distractedly, not asking what it was – he knew, after all – and left to go to Econ. From the mess that was yesterday, he couldn’t wait to see that class again. Arriving, he took the same seat he had the day before. Earlier he had planned on finding a different seat, one away from Lydia and Jackson – but Allison had a feeling, so there he was – sitting next to a short dress and a jackass. Forcing himself to smile, he turned their way.
Jackson was awake today, but maybe it was because his best blocker friend was absent. Stiles wondered if Danny was a werewolf too, but he dismissed it. To be honest, he doubted any of these popular kids even had the balls to be a werewolf. It probably messed with their BMWs. Claw mark have to be a bitch to explain to a mechanic.
“Hey, Lydia. What did you get for question fourteen on last night’s homework? I figured you could help me.”
Well, so much for being nice.
The redhead in question – up close, her hair actually looked more strawberry blonde – turned to him with dark eyes. Her makeup looked more goth today than teen Barbie, but she worked it well. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’m too much of a dumbass to actually know the answer.”
He laughed. “Hey, you said it, not me.”
Jackson turned around then, probably at the fact that someone was talking to Lydia and it wasn’t him. “Why are there so many new kids?” he asked disgustedly, rolling his eyes.
“Why are you alive?” Stiles responded before he could stop himself. Where was this anger even coming from?
“Excuse me?” Jackson snapped, obviously offended. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you better back the fuck up.”
“I’m literally two seats away from you in a classroom the size of a closet. Where do you want me to go? In the hallway?” He responded bitingly. The other boy scoffed, eyes narrowing.
Change color, Stiles begged inwardly. Come on, show us some blue. Hell, I’ll even take golden.
“Oh, my God. Shut up – the both of you.” Lydia interrupted, and Stiles turned back in time to see her roll her hazel eyes and run her fingers through her hair. Her nail polish was purple today.
Jackson’s eyes lit up – but not in the werewolf way, more in the jackass boyfriend way. “Don’t you tell me to shut up, Lydia. Who do you think you are?” he spat. “Who do either of you think you are? God, why am I surrounded by vermin?”
“You know, it’s painfully obvious you think vermin’s a big word, but at only six letters, it’s really not that big.” Stiles paused for effect. “I’m sure that doesn’t apply to anything else in your life.”
Jackson actually stood up at that, knocking his desk over. The class, still talking amongst themselves before the bell, went silent. Jackson looked ready to kill him, but for some reason all Stiles could focus on was the shaky sigh from Lydia. Turning to her, he saw her resolve harden, and her eyes stared straight ahead, ignoring the both of them.
“Come and say that to my face, asshat.” Jackson barked, glowering over him. Stiles clicked his tongue. Should he fight? What if Jackson turned into a werewolf in front of everyone? What if he didn’t, and Stiles got his ass kicked by a human? He wasn’t supposed to harm humans, but maybe his father would understand this exception…
“Jackson, sit the hell down.” Came a new voice. Coach had entered the room finally, carrying a clipboard and exasperation. Jackson turned away from Stiles for a second, but quickly turned back – giving him a high powered glare that made Stiles, “Ohhh.” sarcastically. “I won’t tell you again, Whittemore.” Coach repeated, giving him a pointed look.
After a moment, Jackson sat down, but once again, Stiles was more focused on Lydia. She had closed her eyes and was now sighing in relief.
Interesting.
The rest of class passed in a blur. He didn’t know who paid less attention to the board: him, Lydia or Jackson – although he was willing to bet Jackson never paid attention regardless.
When the bell rang, Stiles hung back a little, not wanting to get into a fight with Jackson in such a public place, but he couldn’t help but follow the couple out. “…a fucking douche bag.” Jackson was complaining.
Lydia was walking besides him, but her body language indicated she wasn’t agreeing. “Maybe you shouldn’t have attacked him.”
“What are you even talking about? He insulted me first. Keep up, Lydia. You aren’t that dumb.” Jackson snapped. Lydia pressed her lips together, and Stiles narrowed his eyes. His whole body tense and he gritted his teeth.
Jackson paused at his locker and said something Stiles couldn’t hear, but it made Lydia’s eyes flash with anger. “Are you fucking crazy? He’s just a kid. Leave him alone.” She said, a little too loudly. Stiles hid behind the corner when Jackson looked around to see if anyone heard her.
“Shut the fuck up, Lydia. Jesus. I can’t tell you anything without you making a big deal about it. This is why we never talk and just fuck. You’re useless.” He pushed past her, leaving his locker door open, and she scoffed – but once again stayed quiet.
Stiles watched as Jackson walked away before approaching her. “Your boyfriend is a charmer.”
She jumped a little. He was a little surprised to see her eyes weren’t brimming with tears, and instead, she just looked annoyed. “Fuck off.”
“Well, I can see where he gets it from.”
“Ugh!” she exclaimed, slamming Jackson’s locker door shut. “Who even are you? Go back to where you came from.”
“I don’t think vaginas work that way.”
“How would you know? Have you ever seen one that wasn’t on your computer screen?”
“Ouch.” Stiles raised an eyebrow and leaned against the locker. Lydia grabbed her bag and pulled it over her shoulder again, walking away. He weighed his options before deciding to follow her. “Is he usually like that?” he asked, catching up. He put his thumbs behind the straps on his sides. She doesn’t answer, keeping her head up high. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who would allow that, but then, how would I know? You pretend to have a low IQ to satisfy the ego of a man.”
He really needed to work on this nice routine everyone else had.
She stopped, looking at him harshly. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged, also pausing. Students pushed past both of them, eager to get to lunch. He pulled his bookbag closer to his body. “I’m just saying – you don’t have to do that - take his shit, or be brainless. You could just be you.” He told her, and her eyes hardened.
“Thanks for the advice.” She responded icily.
Be nice, Stiles.
He took a deep breath. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He raised an eyebrow when she barked a laugh at him.
“Please.” She rolled her eyes, walking again. He followed curiously. “Don’t patronize me. You think I’m an idiot who can’t defend herself.”
Surprising both him and her, he grabbed her arm gently, turning her towards him. “No, I don’t, Lydia.” He said, a little intensely. “I’ve literally just met you and I already know that.” He looked her in her eyes and his heart jumped a little at the color of her eyes – a light green with brown flecks. “I just think that if you’re gonna stand by a guy who calls you useless, then maybe you need someone to tell you that you deserve better.”
They both stare at each other, until Lydia couldn’t take it anymore and glanced down. “He’s just going through something.”
A bite, maybe? “They always are.” He responded softly. After a second, he realized he was still grabbing her arm, and he let go awkwardly. He scratched the back of his head and he sighed. “Listen, there’s this motto in my family – don’t ask…we’re super weird – but it basically boils down to: we protect those who cannot protect themselves. But…” he trailed off, his voice going soft. “I don’t think you need someone to protect you, Lydia. I think you can manage that just fine, if you tried. You’re not useless.”
She shrugged, the strap of her bag falling a little. “You don’t even know me.” Her voice was thick.
He shrugged, feeling like the spazz he used to be when he was younger. “Maybe not.” Stiles gave her one last look, before walking away. He told himself not to look back at her again, but he gave in as soon as he reached the end of the hallway.
But when he turned around, she was already gone.
-x-
Allison knew she should probably find her brother at lunch and tell him about the previous night, but something stopped her. She walked with her books pressed up against her chest down the south hallway, looking around everywhere.
For what? She wasn’t quite sure.
There was a group of boys coming out of their locker room, and she recognized one of them. “Hey, Greenberg, do you know where Isaac is? He promised to help me in English.” The kid merely pointed at the locker room before following the rest of the guys. She waited until they turned the corner and the hallway was clear to enter the locker room.
“Hey, Isaac? Are you in here? I just wanna talk.” She called out, shielding her eyes a little. Seeing that the locker room was empty, she sighed, slamming her arms to her sides. Realizing she missed him again, she turned around and almost screamed when she saw someone looking at her. Her heart rate went through the roof and her eyes widen.
“Allison, we meet again.”
Last time she saw Jackson, he was shirtless; this time, he was completely naked.
She looked away from him. “Sorry.” She muttered, but she didn’t know if he heard her over the drum in her chest. She barely heard herself.
“Wait, wait. I thought you wanted to talk.” He smirked, coming close to her. His blue eyes were boring a hole in her as trapped her against the lockers.
“To Isaac.” She corrected, her voice hard.
He looked around mockingly. “You keep saying that, but he’s never around and I always am. Coincidence, or…” he trailed off, brushing a hair behind her ear. She flinched out of his reach but kept eye contact. “You look a little stressed, Allison.” He whispered, his eyes darkening. He pressed into her body and she walked backwards into a bench. She steadied herself, but he was already trapping her again. “I can fix that.”
“I’m okay, thanks.” She said, eyes wide. She didn’t have her Mace with her nor her arrows; besides, she wasn’t entirely sure he was a werewolf. At this point, he just seemed like a rapist.
Those people, she decided quickly, don’t fall under the protection rule.
“I met your brother, by the way.” He told her, going more into her personal space. She could feel him on her stomach and she tightened her hands into fists. “He was such a lovely person that I have a surprise set up for him.”
She paused at that and held back her attack. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She pushed against the locker, giving them a little space.
He laughed, treading his fingers through her hair again. “It means…” he smirked. “I hope he knows how to fight.”
Allison’s eyes darkened. “He does.” She leaned in closer. “And guess what?” she mocked softly. “So do I.”
His eyes looked confused for only second, before she bashed her head into his. He staggered backwards, caught off guard and groaned at the sudden impact. She immediately brought him close in order to kick him in the stomach and then pushed him into the lockers. He growled and went after her, but she swiftly moved aside, grabbing his arm and twisting it hard. He yelped and she twisted it behind his back, making him bend over. “Come near me or my brother again, and you’ll know the meaning of pain.” She threatened before pushing him down on the floor.
He snarled. “If you think I’m going to be scared by some bitch, you got it all wrong.” He replied, jumping back up. They glare at each other, and Allison was acutely aware that he was still naked when they heard the door open. “What the hell is going on here?”
It was Coach, and he looked infuriated. Dumbfounded, neither responded. “Get dressed! And both of you, straight to the principal’s office.”
Ten minutes later, Jackson Whittemore, star and captain of the lacrosse team, told the principal that Allison Argent came into the boy’s locker room and attacked him as he was getting dressed. Allison tried to defend herself, but with a record of fighting in her previous schools, all she succeeded in doing was ruining her chances of maintaining a low profile.
“Miss Argent, I don’t know how things were done in New York, but here in Beacon Hills, girls do not enter the boy’s locker room.” The principal had told her before suspending her for the rest of the day.
Jackson smiled at her when she was forced to sit outside the office and wait for her father to pick her up. She watched as he shook hands with the principal and then, when the principal clapped his shoulder warmly. “Unbelievable.” She muttered to herself.
She had to warn Stiles before Jackson got to him, but she was pretty sure that a, Stiles’s dead phone was still in the Jeep and b, he wouldn’t back down regardless.
Fucking hell.
-x-
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” A taunted flittered throughout the field. It was about ten at night, and the lacrosse field was lit with heavy duties stadium lights. “Come on, Stilinski.”
“Maybe he pussied out.” Another voice came exasperatedly. “Or didn’t get your text. Are you sure that was his number?”
“Yeah.” Jackson growled. “Maybe I did put too much faith into that pussy. No matter, I’ll just kick his ass tomorrow.”
Aiden sighed. “Whatever. Are we done here? I kind of wanted an early night.” He said, and Jackson rolled his eyes. Aiden didn’t wait for a reply before turning around and getting on his bike. “I’ll see you tomorrow, man.” He said, riding off.
Jackson nodded, taking his lacrosse gear from his bag. He had a feeling Stilinski wouldn’t show – might as well practice for Friday. “Hey, Jackson.” She finally stepped away from the shadows. He turned casually and smirked as soon as he saw her.
“Allison. Looking for Isaac?” he asked innocently.
She smiled coyly. “Nope. Looking for you.” She said softly. She held up a phone. “My brother got your text. Unfortunately, he’s a bad phone user. Never charges the thing. Luckily, since I was suspended today, I was able to get his phone before he checked it, and who would have known that Jackson Whittemore texts his threats instead of being a normal bully and saying it to someone’s face? Not I, that’s for sure, but I sure appreciated it.”
Jackson rolled his eyes, taping up his knuckles. “What do you want Allison?”
She smiled again. “That was quite a stunt you pulled earlier.” She stepped closer to him. He looked at her warily but didn’t move.
“Want some more?” he said lewdly, raising his eyebrows. “Hell, I’ll fuck you in the middle of the field if you want.”
She cocked her head to the side. “And they say, romance is dead.”
“There’s mood lighting and everything.” He said pointing at the bright lights. He laughed and shook his head, grabbing his lacrosse stick and a ball. “Anything else, or are we actually fucking?” he asked, once again with a bored tone.
She shook her head. “Nope, nothing else. Just wanted to tell you something before we continued the rest of the year.” Her smile grew a little, and she went close to him. He rolled his eyes. “If you ever touch me like that again…” she started, her voice icy sweet. He crossed his arms, almost amused. “I’ll kill you.” She finished, tone going dark.
He laughed, wiggling his fingers. “So scared.”
“You should be.” The smile was back. “But just in case, here’s a little preview of what would happen.” Her hand was already in her bag and she pulled out a Taser. Quickly, she brought it to his side, and he screamed in pain and fell to the ground. “Next time, it will be worse.”
He growled and hoisted himself up on all fours. Frowning, she took a step back. Humans can’t recover from that shock that quickly, and sure enough, when he looked up, his face was changed into something more fearsome than an all American boy. His eyes flashed icy blue and his fingers clawed the earth.
So Stiles was right.
She grabbed her crossbow immediately, already angling it towards him. He jumped to his feet. “You carry that around everywhere, Allison? Gosh, you sure are a buzzkill.”
“That’s me – Allison, the buzzkill.” She said, her voice steady. “Are you part of Scott McCall’s pack?” she asked, the arrow trained on him.
His face changed back to normal, but his claws were still out. “Why the fuck would I want McCall as an Alpha? He can’t even pass math. I’m better by myself.” He twirled his neck and set his shoulders. “I don’t know where you got that weapon or how you know about us, but you’re not going to win this fight.”
For the first time, she smirked. “Yes, I am, Jackson.” He snarled and charged at her. She gasped when she fell flat on her back, and her crossbow went flying. He laughed and pinned her down, his hands going up her legs and under her dress. She kicked at him, hand reaching blindly for her bag as she screamed.
He put his hand over her mouth as he rode the dress up, and the back of her legs hit grass. At that moment, however, she found the bottle she was looking for. With a swift kick between his legs, she pushed him off her and sprayed the liquid straight into his eyes – Mace, the protector of women everywhere, regardless of hunter status. Shielding her own eyes, she ran as he yelled and covered his eyes.
She just made it to her crossbow when he started standing again. He howled and changed, charging towards her again. She quickly brought up her weapon and shot him with the wolfbane-infused arrow. He yelped when it made contact with the middle of his chest, and he dropped to his knees. Picking up her sickle from inside her bag, she made her way towards him.
“I warned you.” She muttered, feeling the scratches on her legs drip with blood. He must have clawed her. “No man touches me like that twice and lives to tell the tale.” He looked up at her a little confused and a little scared, but it didn’t stop her from bringing her sharp weapon to his throat as hard as she could.
In another life, seeing a head fall to the ground would have made her thrown up in horror, but in this one, it only gave her a sick satisfaction. “Of course, I was planning on killing you anyway.” She stated, as his body fell to the ground lifelessly.
-x-
Across town, a veterinarian flipped through a diary of past contacts – good and bad, before stopping at one of the first names written.
Argent, Alexander: hunter, dangerous killer.
Known allies: entire family, especially Gerard Argent; Kate Argent; Chris and Victoria (deceased) Argent and their children: Allison and Stiles Argent.
Warning: They do NOT follow the hunter’s code. Will kill without hesitation.