✶━━━ CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE. 【 39.】orphaned. ❝ IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM YOU'RE DEAD.❞
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FEELING WEAK COULDN'T EVEN describe how Hope felt right now. She felt like death. As if she had been ran over 100 times by 10,000,000 trains. And being this vulnerable made her extremely easy to pin a target on. That meant anyone who knew of the Deadpool and wanted to kill the supernatural would go after Hope instantly if they knew her current state.
"I'm telling my dad to get like ten bodyguards for you," Stiles says as he sat in a chair beside Hope's hospital bed.
Hope sighs. "Stiles, I'm fine. I just felt a little dizzy, that's all."
"You're literally the most valuable person on the list Hope!" Stiles huffs. "Apparently you surviving death made you more valuable because now you're worth almost a billion dollars. That's like more than every single person on that list added up!"
Hope smiles.
Stiles glares at her. "You find this amusing don't you?"
"I think it's cute that you care."
"Of course I care, i'm your boyfriend."
Hope hums. "Oh, so we're dating again?"
Stiles rolls his eyes. "I can't— I can't let anything happen to you."
"I'll be fine, I promise," Hope reassures. "How's Brett doing?"
Stiles scoffs. "Where do I even start? He was seizing and there was a bunch of yellow foam coming out of his mouth. Like yellow battery acid from an exploded battery—"
Hope snorts. "Yeah, I get it, Stiles."
Melissa knocks on the door, she walks in with a clipboard in her hand. "Hey Hunny, how do you feel?"
"Amazing," Hope says with a forced smile.
Melissa chuckles. "Alright. Well, considering there's nothing actually wrong with you— you're free to go. Just sign these papers and you can let yourself right out." she hands her the clipboard.
After signing the documents both Hope and Stiles make their way out of the hospital. Stiles continued to tell Hope how worried he was about her safety as they drove to the Sheriff's station. Once they arrived they pulled Parrish to the side to talk to him privately. That's when they showed him the Deadpool.
"I'm worth five dollars!?" The man says slightly offended.
"Five-million." Stiles corrects.
Parrish scoffs. "I only make 40 thousand a year." he looks back at the paper. "Maybe I should kill myself. I don't get it though, wh-why am I on this."
"Honestly that might be a question for another time," Stiles tells the man. "Right now there's still another third of the list that we gotta crack."
