Alone • Liam Dunbar

Thirty-Six

I didn't have any weapons, and the pain of my injuries still remained in my body. I had to think quickly as the splash of footsteps behind me drew near, shutting down any part of my brain that questioned my chances of facing the approaching threat.

I slid off of my bike's seat and turned rapidly to face the figure, knowing I had to use speed to my advantage. I had no idea what they had in their own arsenal, and I didn't feel like getting shot or stabbed tonight. Without another thought, I'm driving my arm outwards and swinging it at the figure. My eyes widen soon after, as I recognize the figure a split-second too late. 

Brett falls backward as my arm makes direct contact with his throat. The hit throws off his momentum, and a hefty gust of air leaves him as he lands into a puddle at my feet.

He groans, clutching his neck as he coughs to adjust.

"Ow," he winces.

"Why the hell were you sneaking up on me?" I fume, not feeling entirely guilty. He could've at least called out to me or walked at a reasonable pace, not sprinted at me in the dead of night.

Catching onto my annoyed tone, Brett glares at me, offended.

"I didn't think you were gonna clothesline me!" he yells heatedly, moving to stand up. 

"It's past midnight in an empty parking lot," I argue back hotly. 

Brett pauses, gaping at me. 

"You suck at apologies," he mutters, practically pouting. 

"Why are you here?" I ask, ignoring his words. 

His demeanor swiftly shifts, and his eyes leave mine to go to the area around us. He's on edge, and that puts me on edge.

"There were assassins after my pack, they found out where we were hiding. We split up, so I came here to look for Scott to get help. I thought tonight was the bonfire?" 

I sigh, the problems of this night seeming endless. 

We had just dealt with one threat and here was another. The Dead Pool had begun to ramp up trouble in Beacon Hills, and it was becoming dangerous territory for anyone supernatural, and anyone who helped them.

"It got canceled because of the storm, and the fact that there were assassins here, too," I explain.

"Yeah, I figured something big went down when I didn't see anyone here but you, and you know, over a dozen hunters," he replies sarcastically. 

"Person business," I smirk coyly. 

Brett scoffs in return, though, there's a hint of amusement in it.

"Can your pack help us or not?" 

He doesn't care to banter, he only wants his pack safe. That's something I completely understand, but it's not like my pack was in the best place to assist anyone. 

Scott, Malia, and Liam were out of commission after almost being burned alive, Stiles had yet to return my calls which meant he was busy, and Braeden and Derek were more than preoccupied with helping me clean up the mess of the bonfire. Kira wasn't even in town, and there was no way I was putting Lydia of all people in the middle of this. She couldn't sass an assassin to death. 

"Not right now, but we still need to get you out of the open anyway. We can go to the clinic and your pack can meet us there, then we can figure out a plan," I tell Brett, deciding that was our best course of action. 

Deaton already had a rapport with Brett's pack. They would feel safe at the clinic, and the populated environment could give us an advantage. No assassins would come in guns blazing, because the moment they did, the businesses around Deaton's clinic would have the cops on the phone in a second. It wasn't the best idea, but it was a necessary preventive measure for the time being.