❝ we're just having fun, right? ❞
𝐚·𝐦𝐞·𝐥𝐢𝐨·𝐫𝐚·𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | the act of making something better; improvement.
Or what Nathan was trying to do with himself.
Nathan had a not so happy past with the McCall pack considering that he had tried to kill...
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THIRTY THOUSAND AND DROPPING
NOT long after Lydia went back to her own house, Nathan chose to go to the sheriff's station. He needed to tell the sheriff about what had happened—especially the part where he killed someone—in hopes of the man helping him.
With a wince of pain everytime he took a step, Nathan slowly made his way inside the station only to find the man he was looking for along with Scott and Stiles. The werewolf spun around, confusion filling his voice as he asked, "Nathan? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same thing about you," Nathan replied casually.
Stiles sigh, "We're telling him about the dead pool."
"Speaking of the dead pool ..." the hunter paused, stopping beside Scott to look at everyone. "Lydia got attacked."
Both boys' eyes went wide in surprise, with Stiles being the first to ask, "What? When?"
"Just a few hours ago," the Laurent let out a breath before continuing. "I was driving around town when I saw her being chased by some guy."
"Well, is she okay?" Scott asked, feeling worried about one of his closest friends.
"She's fine," Nathan assured. "I got rid of the guy, but ..."
Seeing the boy's expression made Noah frown, "But what?"
"I killed him."
Stiles' eyes went wide, "You killed him?"
"I killed him," he repeated, sighing. "Look, it was either him or Lydia and I, all right? He wasn't exactly a saint and I'm not planning on dying anytime soon."
Scott reached out, touching the older's arm only to have black veins appearing on from his fingers. The Alpha frowned, "Where did you get hurt?"
"I'm fine, Scott. It's just a graze."
"You're in pain, Nathan," Scott said in the same tone that Nathan did. "You're not fine."
"I will be," Nathan stated sternly. "I've been stabbed before. It's not my first rodeo."
"Wait," Stiles interrupted. "Aren't we going to talk about the fact that you killed someone?"
The Laurent stared at the sheriff, "Look, sir, I'm not going to lie. I came here to ask you to let it slide. But if you can't, just process it however you like—I don't care."
"Let's just focus on the dead pool first," Noah stated before staring at Nathan. "We'll take care of you later."
"So the Walcotts were the first," Stiles began. "At least the first we know about. Four murders—Sean, his brother, and their parents. They were killed by a professional assassin called the Mute. Weapon of choice, a military tomahawk. But then, the Mute was killed by Peter Hale after he tried to blow up Derek with a claymore mine. Next was Demarco. He delivered a keg to the party at Lydia's lake house. And got decapitated outside his car. And then, last night, twenty-three-year-old Carrie Hudson."
