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“It’s fine, Scott, I promise. My dad will be here in a few minutes and you’re already late for your curfew,” she smiled and had to restrain herself from reaching for him. She didn’t have that right anymore. She caught Isaac’s knowing smirk but kept her attention on Scott. “Your mom will kill you if you’re late again.”
“We’ll wait,” he answered and shook his head, he looked to Isaac then back to her. “A few more minutes.”
Isaac rolled his eyes but stayed where he was. leaning against the wall. “I got no where to be.”
“Scott,” Allison sighed and smiled, too wide and too forced, “It’s fine. The big bad werewolves aren’t going to attack me after last night. And if Deucalion really killed Ennis, I don’t think they’ll be doing anything tonight. Besides, you should get Deaton to look at those stitches.”
She watched him struggle and watched him give in, his hand automatically going to his side. Part of her hated that it was that easy, part of her wanted to twist her fingers with his and wait with her until her dad’s headlights lit the street.
But she was strong.
She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t need to be protected.
She didn’t.
“Call me when you get home,” he said finally and she nodded, watched him rev the bike’s engine. Then she watched Isaac slide his arms around Scott’s waist and settle against his back. Her chest hurt watching Isaac’s arms tighten around him, watching his thighs squeeze against Scott’s. She kept smiling when Scott squeezed his hand over Isaac’s, when he smiled back at him.
It was like a knife twisting in her gut.
She pushed her shoulders back and stood upright, then waited until he was at the edge of the parking lot to wave and relax. When she glanced at her phone she figured she had fifteen minutes before her father arrived. Fifteen minutes at the school. Alone. Fifteen minutes to prove that nighttime in Beacon Hills didn’t mean violence and death. Fifteen minutes to prove she didn’t need protecting.
She ignored the part of her that wanted to sink against the wall and hide, the part that wanted to call Scott back and wait. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply; in through her nose and out through her mouth. In. Out.
In.
Out.
In.
“Good, Allison. Very good. We don’t need to be protected. Do we?”
“No,” she whispered and shook her head, “We’re ... we’re stronger than that.”
She ran her hand over the brick beside her, the rough edges cutting into her palm and fingertips, and she opened her eyes.
“And why are we strong?” Her mother asked.
“Because we are hunters,” Allison answered, then stronger, “We hunt those who hunt us.”
Allison blinked when her mother smiled and couldn’t stop the first tear from sliding down her cheek, she didn’t care to stop the second.
“And what do we do to those needing protecting?”
Allison swallowed around the lump in her throat, “We guard. We fight.”
“We do what needs to be done.”
“We do what needs to be done,” Allison repeated. She took a breath and stepped forward, stood taller when her mother stepped back. Victoria straightened her shoulders, held her head high, and Allison mirrored the stance. “Nous chasson ceux qui nous chasser. Nous protegeons ceux qui ont besoin de proection.”
“Very good. You were so good tonight, Allison. Stop being afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” she said. She looked around but found herself alone, her father’s SUV’s headlights shining as he rounded the curve. “I’m not afraid of them.”
She walked around her father’s car and threw her bag into the backseat, then slid her seatbelt buckle into place.
“How was the meet?”
“Fine. We won.”
Her father nodded, drove forward. “And the car?”
“Lydia said she’d drive me tomorrow, we just ran out of gas.”
“But she couldn’t drive you home?” Chris asked, then sighed when Allison kept quiet. She looked out the passenger window and kept her eyes focused on the road. “And how was ... everything else?”
“Better,” she smiled, “It’s getting better.”