Alone • Liam Dunbar

One

I lean against the side of my motorcycle, staring out at the darkened desert in front of me. The environment was deprived of color as a storm crept closer to provide water to the cracked soil beneath my feet, bringing forward heavy gray clouds. The sun was setting, but the only actual light in the sky came from sudden bursts of lightning.

The storm would probably ward off most people, but I didn't even flinch at the thought of riding into it.

The majority of my summer has been spent in Mexico. I came here to aid Chris and the Calaveras in their search for Kate. We got close a few times, but her trail had gone cold and there weren't signs of her resurfacing any time soon.

Tracking her had led to some incredibly remote locations which kept my communication with the pack to only a few texts, to one or two calls over the course of eight weeks. I was desperate to return home, so nothing would stand in my way, not even a storm.

The sound of an approaching engine behind me makes me turn. A busted red pickup truck comes to stop in front of me, Chris and Cyrus climbing out of it. 

I already knew they would be the only two to watch me go.  Everyone else was maintaining efforts to find Kate, not wanting her to use me crossing the border as a diversion tactic in case she knew about it. 

I'd said goodbye to everyone else last night as the Calaveras hosted a farewell party in my name. Though, considering how much drinking was involved, it felt more like an event for them than for me, but I did enjoy myself despite that. 

It was hard not to grow fond of the Calaveras over the past two months of being in their company. They were a bit gruff at first, all of us having to adapt to each other, but over time their intense loyalty and amusingly crude humor made it hard to dislike them, especially since they reminded me of friends back home. 

But I was eager to return to the life of retirement they had blessed me with that day in La Iglesia. My time here was merely as a consultant, not a full-fledged hunter. 

"Knight," Cyrus greets me with a smile. "Thanks for your help this summer."

He holds out his hand to me and I take it without hesitation. 

"Anytime. Give my best to Araya and Severo," I request politely.

"Will do," he agrees. After, he takes a step back, giving Chris and I a moment of privacy.  

He wears a soft, easy smile on his face as he comes to look out at the clouded horizon with me.

"Maybe you should wait it out, head home tomorrow," he suggests, and I find my own smile growing. He only said that because he wanted to spend more time together, though I kept that to myself.

Chris was doing better now. After healing from his wound from Peter, he also healed in a different way. Being on the open road, away from Beacon Hills and all of its ghosts, it gave him a chance to breathe. 

Part of me wanted to ask him to come back with me but I refrained from doing so. He needed space to figure out who he was outside of who he'd been, a struggle I'd faced more than once in my life and wasn't annoyingly empathetic to. 

Still, I couldn't help but find myself already missing him, but we both knew what was required of us.

"I told Stiles that I'd be back by tonight and if I don't keep that promise-"

"He'll cross the border to drag you back," Chris finishes for me and we share a laugh because his words may seem joking, but were a possible reality because of Stiles' occasional overbearing nature.

"And he will do it happily," I agree, my words almost like a farewell.

He goes to stand by Cyrus after that, giving me my cue to leave. There isn't anything else that needs to be said between us, not anymore, and I was glad. Sometimes the silence wasn't such a bad thing.