born to die [teen wolf]

[chapter eighteen] checkmate

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Aires pov...

My ten million dollar chandelier sat shattered on the floor, coated in layers of crimson red. Bullets bruised my walls, leaving the place I felt safe in for the first time in years tattered. My feet refused to move as I stared silently at the mess beneath my feet. The stench of the blood that covered almost every inch of my penthouse made my veins burn. A lot of people had died and yet there wasn't one body in the room.

Silently, I seethed. The amount of self control it took to not lose my mind was so strong that not one other person on earth would be able to possess it. I knew Blake wasn't here, I felt the loss of him the second I opened the door. But I let them look.

I let them rip apart and ruin my house whilst I stayed silent by the front door, silently trying not to lose my fucking mind when everything inside of me was trying to tempt me. Blake was the only thing on my mind, and if I moved, I doubted my control. I'd end up killing everyone in the city.

Instead, I breathed in the sickeningly sweet smell of blood that I could practically taste in the air. There was a reason I only drank from blood bags. I was an addict, alcohol, drugs, magic... One taste from a person's direct vein and I was gone, I couldn't afford to be an addict, even though I was one.

Blake was one of the things I was addicted to, one of the things that kept me functioning like a lifeline. And he had been ripped away from me.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out-

"Tee." Isaac sighed as he flew back into the room. "He's gone, there's no sign of him."

Just the mess of whoever tried to kill him.

He couldn't die, he was tied to me. But someone took him from me, and that equaled their death certificate. They were a dead person walking.

"Tee." Isaac snapped, and it was then that I noticed the lights above my head were violently flickering.

It was all slipping through my fingers...

"Emmy."

Blake had her, he was looking after her.

I didn't care that it was suicidal, I shoved Isaac to the side and ran into the apartment. I didn't care about the blood, or the marks Blake had left on the walls when he was trying to fight off whoever came for him. Blake was with Emmy.

"EMORY!" I screamed at the top of my lungs as I ran into her room.

I taught her what to do, how to hide, but if they got her...

I ripped the panel from the inside of the closet off the wall, and from somewhere inside I could suddenly hear her little erratic heartbeat. She hid, just like I taught her- just like I was taught.

"Tee." She sniffled.

"It's me, Emmy."

She poked her head out and it was like looking into a freaking mirror from twenty years ago. Big blue watery eyes stared up at me whilst her blonde hair stuck to her head like a halo, she was a sad little angel and instantly I wanted whoever had traumatised her dead.

I pulled her out, and as she curled onto my lap I tried to calm myself down and not scare her. She was breakable, and whilst in my arms, the only thing stopping me from screaming and murdering everyone in sight.

"Emory, what happened?" I whispered with as much humanity as I could muster up.

It was hard when I had my humanity switch flipped, but the reminder of how breakable she was brought out a protectiveness and 'softness' out of me.

"Men, they came with guns! Blake told me to hide." She choked out with another sniffle and instead of asking her another question, I placed her on my hip and let her cling onto me.

She was shaken up so I couldn't ask her anymore, I didn't want to scare her. She was already broken enough from the world I'd tried for years to protect her from, she didn't need to be put through pain unnecessarily.

I knew what I needed to know, someone took Blake.

The bad feeling, the kiss, the bodies- I was fucking right. I was right again. Bullseye.

I walked past Isaac and Paul who were combing through some crap in the kitchen and headed straight to my closet. I was grabbing a gun.

"Emmy," I whispered before setting her down on the floor. "Go pack a bag."

"Pack what?" She asked, a frown on her small face.

"All the clothes your daddy sent you to us with, whatever dresses you want from your closet and whatever toys you'd like to bring with you."

Knowing her dad he probably sent her with fuck all to us when he wanted us to look after her whilst he was on a job. That was why I had a room for her with more clothes than necessary for a five year old. At least I had somewhat of a clue on how to take care of a child, her dad was an amateur.

"Are we going to see daddy?"

"No, we're going to go get Blake."

"Okay." She sniffled with a strong nod before spinning on her heel and running off.

I needed to not lose my shit, for her sake. I didn't know where the hell I was going, but I wasn't going without at least five guns. With a murderous scowl, I threw open my closet door. Five dead fucking roses sat on the island.

There was a cherry red box, and without a second thought, I stormed over and ripped the lid off.

A human heart.

And I was hit with deja fucking vu.

In Sophmore year I left hearts in boxes in peoples lockers, I did it to fuck with someones head and someone was doing it to fuck with mine. I was seconds away from burning down the fucking place. Someone was playing a game with me.

The bodies, the dumbasses with guns, Blake...

My blood ran cold as I ran my fingertips over the letter sat beside the box, one I knew was going to fuck with me. Whoever wanted to fuck with my head was winning, and it was driving me fucking crazy.

I could smell the blood on the paper as I tugged it out of the envelope and immediately, I knew what I was going to look at before I even saw it.

The date.

The death of Aires Hale.

With a perfect crimson red line painted straight through it.

I was stuck in a perfectly controlled blind rage as I threw my stuff into suitcases and loaded up more guns than needed into my bags and onto my body. Four for my thighs, two in my back pocket, one in each pocket. I wasn't thinking, I couldn't think.

I was being played.

I dragged my bags behind me and threw them at the front door. I didn't know how long I was leaving, but I wasn't coming back. I'd burn the penthouse to the ground before stepping in it ever again. I'd never be able to wash the smell of Blakes torture off of the walls.

"Where the hell are you going?" Isaac demanded.

"Beacon Hills."

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WHOOP WOO! We're so back.