Alone • Liam Dunbar

Fourteen

"A scent?"

Brett stands across from Liam and I, confused by what we were attempting to figure out. Our explanation obviously hadn't gone over well, leaving him lost. It's not like I blamed him for it. We didn't even understand ourselves what Liam had picked up on so it was a longshot to hope Brett, who had been doing nothing more than flirting and drinking tonight, would know more than us.

"A weird scent," I clarify, cringing at how lame that description sounded. Brett gave me a semi-judgemental scowl for it. "No. I didn't catch anything."

"No one else in here is like us?" Liam presses hopefully. Brett was familiar with the nightlife scene in Beacon Hills, so he would know if perhaps we were in the presence of another werewolf or other being. He was our best bet right now not to be utterly lost again.

"I don't know, dude. Maybe? It's Beacon Hills." Brett shrugs boredly. "What's the difference?"

Liam lets out a disgruntled breath, his eyes focusing on the crowd around us. The club continued to function with moderately inebriated individuals, all of them none the wiser. They had no idea of the possible danger in their midst, nor did we have any idea how to help them if all hell broke loose.

Imagining the scenario of another kanima-werewolf appearing in the middle of the dancefloor didn't breed grounds for positivity.

"It felt different," Liam mutters. His tone is borderline pessimistic as the blindspot in our information gets the best of us.

"What do you mean?" Brett frowns.

"It felt off. It felt wrong."

Brett places his hand on Liam's shoulder, a surprisingly friendly gesture between them. It's a rare moment of comfort that I don't draw attention to, knowing it wouldn't be long before they were at each other's necks again.

Liam gives Brett a subtle nod, thanking him for his help though it led to nothing, before walking off to the side. He continues to scan the crowd as if waiting for the creature in the room to raise their hand and reveal themselves to us.

"Keep your eyes on Mason," I instruct Brett before joining Liam. He gives a firm nod in return before joining the Hewitt boy's side as he chats up with some of the guys Brett introduced him to earlier.

Mason was content, and I didn't want to ruin that for him.

Soon enough this world would make him regret looking at the supernatural with such wonder as it did with everyone else that saw the truth. I wanted him to hold onto his hope for as long as he could, even if it was on a night as seemingly insignificant as this one.

Liam doesn't turn to face me when I stand behind him, but talks anyway. "There's someone in here who isn't normal, Jac. I can feel it."

"Then let's find them," I reply, completely certain he was right even if I hadn't sensed it myself.

"We'll split up and cover more ground. You take everything from the cages to the bar, and I'll cover the rest. Okay?"

"Okay," he confirms. Before we go our separate ways he grabs my hand to give it a brief squeeze, making me smile as I watch him walk off.

I clear my mind after we separate, not wanting my already dazed state to be the reason someone got hurt tonight by adding more distractions. I focus on the faces I pass and mentally mark anyone who stands out. Most of them happen to be people who aren't stumbling around. If someone was sober in a place like this, they were most definitely supernatural. Even the bartender was doing shots.

Though, nothing really calls out to me.

People appear to be tiresomely normal, and cynicism eats away at me because none of them are aware of how much of a privilege that is. It isn't until I hear the sound of glass breaking from somewhere in the club does something really capture my attention.