No Way Out | Teen Wolf & The Vampire Diaries

Chapter 1

With the inside of my wrist, I wipe blood from my mouth as I survey my assailant, Bennett, who stands opposite me, an unwavering smirk fixed on his face. What a smug mother-fudge-nugget.

I arch an eyebrow, gesturing for him to come closer with a cloth-wrapped hand before raising my fists in front of my face.

Slowly, suspiciously, we move around as if we're on the outskirts of an imaginary circle. My dad watches me intently, analysing me for the slightest sign of weakness. I will never show him one.

Weakness isn't in my nature.

Bennett approaches, withdrawing his fist as he gets ready to punch me. I strike first, kicking the side of his ribcage — just like I've practiced with a boxing bag. Now that he's off-balance, the underside of my foot shoots into his chest and thrusts forward, pushing him backwards.

He plummets to the ground with a grunt. Swiftly, I roll him onto his front, straddle him, and yank both of his arms back. I give him no mercy, which is what I've been trained to do my entire life.

He struggles underneath me, his body rocking from side to side in an attempt to shake me off.

"Tap out," I command, pulling his arms back harder.

He grimaces as his back and shoulders click, the right side of his face pressed against the leaves and damp earth.

"Okay, fine," he huffs. "I'm out. I'm out."

I release his arms and stagger to my feet, groaning quietly as I feel the physical repercussions of fighting a fully-grown man nearly twice my size.

Grinning, I extend a hand to Bennett. He accepts my help begrudgingly before smiling slightly himself.

"You're improving," my dad, the one and only Chris Argent, remarks. There are hints of approval in his tone — high praise from him indeed. He packs the training equipment up.

With Bennett, one of my dad's employees, I have been training for an hour in a forest clearing. It's getting dark. Panting slightly, we follow my dad to the Chevy Tahoe.

Before I clamber inside, I hear screams and scuffling sounds. They're close. Really close. Maybe someone's in trouble?

I grab a blade knife, slide it into the empty leather knife holster wrapped around my upper right thigh, and sprint off in the direction of the noise, ignoring the shouts of protest from both Bennett and my dad.

Someone's life could be on the line.

I dash over hills and dips as I attempt to locate the source of the noise. The forest is eerie, ominous. I start to feel uncertain. Was I being dumb?

Out of absolutely freaking nowhere, someone slams into me.

"Hey — what the hell?" I yelp as I'm sent flying to the ground. I flip onto my back, groaning.

So much for saving someone.

"What the hell?!" a guy with a buzzcut exclaims, repeating what I literally just said. He hovers over me and hoists me to my feet. "What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I retort critically, my arms folded across my chest as I glance him up and down. "But more importantly, how could you commit such a heinous crime!?"

Panic is visible on his face. "W-what?" he asks with a gulp. "What crime? No crime. There's no crime."

Um... strange.

"Running in Converse? Seriously? That actually is a crime, you know. They're supposed to be respected, revered — not treated like ordinary shoes."