3

3-Ice Pick

Her hands were bound in front of her chest and her head was wrapped in an uncomfortable burlap sack. She knew how this would go—it had happened enough times now that she could predict what it would feel like to have her head submerged beneath water against her will.

It didn't do anything to prepare her when it actually happened. It never did.

The cloth stuck to her face as her grandfather's strong arms pushed her head below the water level. She held her breath at first, but eventually, her lungs scorched all the way up her trachea and forced a harsh scream from her sealed lips, creating frothy bubbles on the surface of the basin.

Overhead, the electricity flickered as Adrianna flexed her fingers into fists and tried to break free of the zip ties holding her captive. She thrashed her body this way and that, but her grandfather did not relent. Her heart beat so loudly in her head, she feared that all the blood would burst forth from her body and kill her in an instant.

She couldn't think straight and every time she struggled, her strength waned until she could barely fight at all. Heavy lead seemed to weigh her lungs down and the broken ribs she hadn't had the opportunity to treat felt as though they were skewering the soft fleshy sacks each time she tried to inhale, only to get a nose full of water.

It had crossed her mind, over the last hour and a half, that perhaps this time, Gerard would actually kill her. Without Kate to step in and take over, there was no one to stop him or permit her a respite. Chris, who—each time she was allowed to come up for air and could vaguely make out the shapes and voices around her—was standing by and calmly watching from the other side of the room, didn't seem as though he had any desire to help her out of this mess.

Finally, after another torturous minute had passed, she felt the pressure on her neck lessen as her grandfather stood back, untied her hands, and watched Adrianna as she pushed her upper body out of the basement sink and desperately ripped the bag off her head.

She coughed and hacked for a long time, trying to quench the fire in her lungs with air that felt strangely foreign entering her body. Her legs trembled, knees clacking together, and her silent cries were only muffled by the immense inhalations she committed to religiously as her tears burned trails into her cheeks.

"Have you learned your lesson?" She heard Gerard ask from the opposite side of the room, standing beside his son.

Adrianna didn't have the strength to reply, so she simply nodded rigorously. Her soaked through hair slapped against her back, moistening her blouse and fell in front of her overturned face, shielding her pinched expression from view. She did not feel ready to stand upright yet. She doubted she could face either of the Argent men in the room without feeling the need to bawl like a child, or slit their throats.

"I trust this little—mishap—will not happen again." Gerard continued, threading his fingers together thoughtfully. "You know the consequences should you fail a second time." He reminded her ominously.

"Yes, sir." Adrianna stiffly voiced. Her fingernails had dug crescent moons into the palms of her hands which stung painfully but did not bleed heavily. Hatred simmered beneath the surface in the young woman's eyes, and it was a lucky thing that her grandfather chose to take his leave before Adrianna had the courage to lift her head, for her punishment would have certainly been a thousand times more severe for her defiance.

Her eyes found her uncle's, instead, and the man took a physical step back when he saw what Gerard had brought out of his niece. There was an immense, blackened bruise colouring the side of her head and a split adorning her lower lip. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her pale face dripped water. The tap, tap, of said water, was the only sound made in the basement at that time.

"You coward." Adrianna's taut voice shattered the silence. She was like a tightly coiled spring; ready to snap at a moment's notice. "Damn you." She spat at her uncle, all traces of the respect she'd had for him when they'd first met, incinerated.

"Adrianna," Chris started, voice thick with shame. "I didn't know." He tried to excuse. "You have to believe me." He pleaded sadly. "I didn't know he would do this to you."

Grating laughter spilled out of her sore throat, filled with mocking sympathy. "Oh Chris," She mimed brokenly. "Of course I believe you—" She trailed off, staring at a spot on the wall beside her uncle, too disgusted to look at him any longer.

"Is that what you want me to say?" She yelled abruptly, startling the other Argent so much that he jolted further away from her.

"I—" Chris tried to say, unable to form a coherent explanation that would be good enough, even to his own ears.

"Just go away." Adrianna muttered dourly. "That's what you're good at, isn't it? Abandoning your family."

"Who told you that?" Her uncle roughly questioned, stepping closer, forgetting his fear and indignity. "Was it Kate?"

Shaking her head, Adrianna pushed herself away from the basin, standing to her full height. Blood stained her clothes and her wrists were mottled with bruises and scratches. "I don't need my dead mother to tell me something I can clearly see for myself." She explained with the intention to share a little bit of her pain.

It worked. Chris shook his head apologetically and backed away, leaving Adrianna alone in the basement with her thoughts. Despite everything she'd had to endure, she knew in her tainted heart that letting Derek and his beta go had been the right call.

Isaac, she remembered her grandfather telling her after she'd returned home. His name is Isaac.

A small smile, so out of place on the abused girl's face, wriggled it's way onto her features. She quite liked that name—Isaac.

#-#-#-#-#

Inspecting her pristine, manicured nails, Lydia disinterestedly watched as Allison and Scott steadily ascended the climbing wall in their school's gym. The strange, morose girl that was living with Allison, Lydia thought her name might have been Adrianna, was standing off the side of the assembled group with her dark brown, wavy hair loosely hanging in front of her face.

Lydia could tell just by looking at her that something wasn't right. The way she held herself, favouring her left side, proved that she was uncomfortable, if not in pain. The real question was why a girl that Lydia hadn't even been properly introduced to, that wasn't nearly pretty enough to warrant her interest on looks alone, had captured her attention for the better half of this entire morning.

"McCall," Lydia heard coach's voice echo through the gym, but her stare didn't move. "I don't know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy. Right?" The eccentric man concluded, waving on the next pair to tackle the rock wall. "All right, next two. Stilinski, Erica, let's go." He called out dramatically, far too excited to be deemed normal. "The wall."

She was fidgeting, Lydia keenly noticed. All day she'd been an ice wall of carefully crafted indifference, but right then, as the spastic freckled boy who'd been trying to win Lydia's heart for years and the frizzy haired, blonde, epileptic girl began to strap into their harnesses, Adrianna's facade cracked.

Her eyebrows furrowed and her hands refused to stay idle at her sides. Her foot began tapping and she began to glance around the room wildly, as though she could perceive something no one else could.

Pushing through the crowd, away from where Allison and Scott had stationed themselves beside her, Lydia made her way next to the confusing brunette.

"Something wrong?" She innocently said, still pretending to be entranced by her cuticles in the way Lydia knew all mean, beautiful, stupid girls were expected to do. "Because you'll hurt your neck if you keep turning it around like that." She added, directing her full attention to the annoyed girl pretending, with little success, to be unaffected by Lydia's comments.

"Why would you care?" Allison's—something—snapped, narrowing her gaze on the red head who now had a satisfied little smile twisting her pretty red lips.

"Oh, no reason." Lydia lied. Or at least, it felt like a lie. "I just wanted to get to know you, seeing as we're both friends with Allison." She told the other girl, pointedly glancing in Allison's direction. "You are friends with her, aren't you?" She asked curiously.

Sighing heavily, Lydia could tell that Adrianna didn't want to be bothered, and yet, the girl's posture seemed to relax as she began to converse with her. Everything about Adrianna, it seemed, was a contradiction.

"She's my cousin," Adrianna explained as she stared intently at the duo climbing the wall before them. Stiles was doing well, nearly at the top, but Erica was struggling, holding onto the rope with white knuckles and no longer making any progress. "So yeah, I kind of have to be friends with her." She finished quietly, beginning to walk towards the wall, clearly distracted by the winded girl clutching onto the wall for dear life, and no longer invested in talking with Lydia.

"Erica." The coach called up as Adrianna, followed by a slightly perturbed Lydia, stationed themselves beside him. "Dizzy? Is it vertigo?" He asked her. Lydia couldn't contain herself from rolling her eyes, no matter how childish her mother always reminded her it was.

"Vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear." She informed the coach, crossing her arms over her chest proudly. "She's just freaking out." Lydia simplified when the man stared at her dumbly, clearly bewildered.

"Erica." Said a calm, feminine voice, just loud enough to be heard over the chatter in the gym. Looking around her, Lydia realized that it was Adrianna speaking.

"I'm fine." The stranded girl whimpered as Stiles clambered off the mat and joined their group.

"Coach, maybe it's not safe." Allison spoke up, clearly becoming concerned. "You know she's epileptic."

"Why doesn't anybody tell me this stuff?" Finstock complained, running a hand through his spiked hair, irate. "I have to get—Erica" He started to instruct the terrified girl. "Y-you're find. Just—just kick off from the wall." He stuttered.

Breaking out of the crowd, Adrianna stood at the edge of the mat, staring up at the girl. "Erica, I need you to listen to me." She told her, taking charge of the situation.

A slow nod was all she got as a response but Lydia knew that it was all Erica could manage right then. Fear paralysis was more common than anyone thought, even though it was brought about by a person's own brain and often attributed to a hyperactive imagination.

"Close your eyes." The tall girl commanded, not an ounce of doubt or fear in her voice—unlike the coach. "Think of something else. Remember something pleasant." She continued in a calm, soothing voice. Lydia wondered whether Allison's cousin was a hypnotist—it certainly wouldn't have been the strangest thing she'd heard of.

"O-okay." Erica agreed, snapping her eyes shut tightly.

"Good." Adrianna encouraged, stepping onto the mat. "Now I want you to loosen your grip on the rope—but only a little. Can you do that for me, Erica?" She asked, moving to stand directly beneath the girl.

All around her, Lydia noticed that the other students, including the coach, Allison, and Scott, were quietly watching the scene unfold. There was a delicate balance about the way Adrianna was handling the situation, that even Lydia could see was working.

"Yeah." Erica hesitantly answered, stiffening her upper body as her hands slowly relaxed around the rope.

"Now move your feet, like you're walking backwards." Adrianna called out. "I'm right beneath you. If you slip; I'll catch you." She reassured.

Slowly, inch by inch, Erica lowered herself to the ground. As her feet finally touched the plushy mat, Lydia watched as Adrianna placed a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder before whispering something in her ear.

"See, you're fine!" The coach exclaimed, relieved. "You're on the ground." He praised. "You're all right. Let's go." He encouraged brusquely, as best as he could. "Shake it off. You're alright."

Finally taking note of all the eyes that had been watching her, Erica curled in on herself before sprinting away, leaving Adrianna standing by herself. Some of the jocks near the back of the gym began laughing. Lydia felt a little bit sorry for Erica, but she knew there was nothing she could do. Kids were mean—it was just a fact of life.

Adrianna, apparently, hadn't gotten the message, as she stalked up to the towering walls of muscle and smiled falsely at them. "What's so funny, guys?" She questioned sweetly.

Lydia was irked to realize it was the same tone she had used when she was mocking others.

The confused idiots glanced at each other pridefully, raising their eyebrows and sweeping their lustful gazes over Adrianna's entire form. Lydia found her respect for the girl increasing as she held her ground, despite the slight quiver of her clenched fists.

"Were you laughing at Erica?" She trailed on-wards. Lydia knew Allison's cousin had to have had a point. "The girl who just faced one of her worst fears."

"That'd be the one." One of the jocks replied, grinning toothily.

"Oh," Adrianna pronounced in a demeaning tone. "Good."

And then her fist connected with the older boy's nose and blood sprayed across her cheeks as the jock screamed out in pain. He clutched at the broken appendage pathetically, blubbering and crying through the pain. His friends gathered around him, watching Adrianna warily. None were brave enough to cross her.

"Next time you laugh at someone that's not as strong as you." She spat acidly. "Remember what it feels like to be publicly humiliated by a girl half your size."

She walked away unscathed, save for a detention Lydia knew Coach Finstock wouldn't want to give out, but would be forced to, if he wanted to keep his job.

Behind her, Lydia saw Scott, Allison and Stiles exchange equally worried looks. She hated it when they made her feel like she was out of the loop, but it was happening so often, she knew there'd come a time when she couldn't ignore it any longer.

Today would not be that day.

#-#-#-#-#

"What do you mean tonight's not a good idea?" Stiles defensively demanded. He seriously didn't want to believe that his best friend—which was also pretty much his only friend—was going to bail on him when he needed him most.

"I don't know." Scott replied, pulling a t-shirt over his head. "That thing that we saw last night, Isaac missing, Allison's cousin—Gerard." Simply by mentioning Adrianna, Stiles' felt his spine tingle. He couldn't understand how she was still alive, and attending school, after she'd nearly bled out on the floor of the Sheriff's station.

"All this stuff happening with Derek," Scott continued. "I just—it doesn't feel right." He explained.

"No." Stiles flatly denied. "You're not backing out. Do you wanna know why?" He questioned rhetorically, not even waiting for Scott to answer. "Because you and Allison are obviously having quite a good time together. And you know who else wants to have a good time? Stiles!" He told his friend exasperatedly.

"Stiles wants to have a good time." He spoke of himself in the third person, gaining a smirk from Scott. "Many, many times. Several times in a row. In several different positions." He ranted, only to notice that Scott wasn't paying attention to him anymore. He was staring off into space, tilting his head to the right.

"Are you even listening to me?" He asked tiredly. Scott's expression became concerned and then fearful. "What?" Stiles voiced, running after his friend as he bolted out of the locker room.

"What is that?" He finished as Scott rushed to the gym and caught someone at the bottom of the climbing wall, just before they collided with the solid ground.

Out of nowhere, Allison and Adrianna appeared as Scott lowered Erica to the ground. She was shaking and convulsing.

"Put her on her side." Adrianna commanded loudly, reaching out to do so herself. "Put her on her side." She repeated as more people filed into the gym to see what the commotion was about.

"How did you guys know?" Stiles heard Allison ask, glancing between the two, surprised.

"I just felt it." Scott replied, but that wasn't the answer that stiffened Stiles' bones and made his blood turn to ice.

"She was going to die." Adrianna whispered under her breath, holding a finger against the other girl's throat to check her pulse.

Stiles wondered how it was that a human hunter such as she, could have possibly known whether Erica was on the verge of death or not. That, combined with her miraculous recovery from nearly exsanguinating last night, was enough to set a fire in Stiles' mind.

He had to find out the truth. He had to know what Adrianna Argent was hiding because he had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't exactly who, and what, she appeared to be.

#-#-#-#-#

After following her cousin, who had ran out of the girl's locker room faster than Allison had been able to change out of her gym clothes, and discovering that Erica was having a seizure, Allison had promptly decided that she would stay by Adrianna's side for the remainder of the school day.

It wasn't everyday that you found out you had a cousin you never knew about, who disappeared in the middle of the night—coincidentally at the same time a hunter was sent out to kill Isaac—who also had the ability to foretell when another human being was at risk; just like her not-boyfriend Scott, who was also a werewolf.

So, setting down her lunch tray next to the girl in question and biting into a crisp apple, Allison began conversation with her frosty relative. "So," She awkwardly interceded as the other girl reluctantly glanced up from her Algebra textbook, which she'd been studying since they'd had the class this morning. "Where are you from? Kate never talked about you." She finished, mentally kicking herself for delving into such an uncomfortable topic.

Glaring, Adrianna snapped the book shut before languidly replacing it in the bag at her feet. Allison knew what the other girl was doing—making her stew in her embarrassment for as long as she could—but she couldn't find that she blamed her too much for it.

"I'm from New York." Adrianna finally informed her, smiling tightly. "And my mother Kate never talked about me because, to everyone outside of the Argent family, I do not exist."

Furrowing her brow, Allison took another bite out of her apple as she mulled over her cousin's words. "But I'm an Argent." She thought aloud. "And I didn't know about you."

Smiling with saccharine coated lies, Adrianna patted Allison's empty hand. "I know sweetie," She told her, and Allison was eerily reminded of her late aunt Kate. "But I wasn't talking about the family in general; more what it stands for." She explained.

"Oh," Allison realized. "You mean because I wasn't a hunter."

Nodding her head, her cousin snatched a bottle of water off Allison's tray and cracked open the lid before taking a generous sip. "Yes," She agreed. "Because you aren't a hunter." She subtly corrected.

Despite her best intentions, Allison felt her irritation rising. All she was trying to do was be nice to a girl she'd never met before. Can't she at least be nice to me, Allison wondered.

"I've started my training." Allison informed the brunette beside her, temporarily forgetting about Stiles and Scott, who were just two tables down from them.

"That's too bad." Adrianna sympathetically replied. There was a darkness to her voice that Allison had never heard before. She wondered why the other huntress was so bleak all the time. Perhaps it had something to do with the way their grandfather kept her so close.

"Did I say something to you?" Allison queried, finally having enough of her cousin's bitterness and mocking sweetness. "Because you seem to have something against me. I know what it's like—" She started, only to be interrupted mid-sentence.

"What do you know about me?" Adrianna caustically accused, whirling on her cousin angrily. "You don't know the half of what I've been through. What it takes to be Gerard's darling and Kate's daughter." She snapped.

Allison would have defended herself. She would have explained her situation with Scott and the other hunters—how her entire family had lied to her for seventeen years before they were forced to tell her the truth—but as her cousin had faced her, she'd noticed one of two things.

The first was the dark blue and black bruise that mottled her left temple, along with the red, swollen skin that surrounded it, to the point were it was nearly unrecognizable. That in itself was enough to render her speechless.

The second thing she noticed, was the way Adrianna's eyes watered, as though she was on the verge of crying, and she remembered how her aunt's fiery temper had often resulted in strange outbursts of anger, as opposed to the grief she was really feeling.

For the first time since meeting her cousin, Allison remembered that, while she'd lost an aunt, Adrianna had lost a mother, and that was an entirely different burden to carry.

Her heart swelled with pity and sympathy for the girl beside her, and, before she could think better of it, Allison grabbed hold of her cousin's fisted hand and ran her smooth fingers over the other girl's battle-roughened knuckles.

"Your right," Allison told her, smiling through watery eyes as she felt her cousin's pain like she did her own. "I don't know anything about you." She admitted, surprising Adrianna so much that she permitted her to continue holding her hand.

"But I'm trying to learn," Allison gently reminded her. "I want to understand. I want to help you." Beneath her palm, Allison felt Adrianna's fingers shaking and fat tears collected at the bottom of her eyelashes. "When you're ready, we can be friends."

Crying properly now, Adrianna released an amused puff of air from her nostrils, not bothering to wipe away the salty tears. "Alright." She croaked, squeezing Allison's hand. "I'd like that." She continued, sounding stronger already.

"Good." Allison smiled, happy to retract her hand as the other girl released her and continue to chew on her apple.

Across from her, she heard Stiles telling Scott that he'd gotten the keys to the ice rink and an idea blossomed in her head.

"Are you free tonight?" She asked the fully composed brunette beside her. She didn't even have time to wonder how Adrianna put herself back together so fast before she responded.

"Yes," She said in the same dark tone as before. "I'm not doing anything."

Continuing cheerfully, Allison smiled at Scott, Stiles and Lydia as they approached and sat down at their otherwise deserted table. "Why don't you come to the ice rink with us?" She asked her cousin, not really caring that she'd surprised Scott and Stiles with the invitation. Adrianna was family—hunter or not—and that meant that the girl could partake in anything she liked.

Her cousin thought for a moment, appraising each of Allison's friend's reactions to the sudden exclamation, before coming to a decision.

"Sure," She accepted. "I think I'd like that."

Staring at her boyfriend, Allison silently pleaded with him to agree. Eventually, after changing his expression several times, he gave in, turning to do the same to his best friend, who took a bit more convincing.

"Oh alright," Stiles reluctantly agreed. "Pick you up right after work tonight and we'll meet at the rink, cool?" He asked Scott, who was looking over the cafeteria, at the double doors that led to the rest of the school.

Allison wondered why Scott hadn't answered, so she, like Stiles and Adrianna, turned to see what her boyfriend was so intently staring at. It wasn't a what, so much as a who.

Strutting into the cafeteria with high heels, tight leggings and a leather jacket, not to mention sleek, curly hair and a voluptuous figure, what could only be described as a super model, took an apple from a nearby boy's hand before biting into it seductively. Allison felt dread collect in her gut as she tossed her own half-eaten apple onto her tray.

"What—the holy hell—is that?" Lydia haltingly asked, voicing everyone else's thoughts.

"It's Erica." Scott realized at the same time Allison understood what had happened to the shy, epileptic girl. She was a werewolf now—a part of Derek Hale's growing pack. Allison wondered what her grandfather would think if he knew everything that what was really going on in Beacon Hills.

#-#-#-#-#

When Scott had reluctantly agreed to go with Allison, Stiles and Lydia to the local ice rink, he had not wanted Allison's cousin, the girl who'd bisected an omega right before his eyes and might do the same to him if he wasn't careful, to come along. But Allison had asked him, and although many others considered him to be a bit dull when it came to pretty much everything, Scott knew that when your girlfriend asked you for something, you did it.

So here he was, tying up his ice skates and keeping an eye on the strangely happy huntress who was doing the same. It didn't feel right to him. She was the enemy, his enemy, and spending time with her—getting to know her—felt like he was not only betraying Derek, but his entire species.

"Could it be any colder in here?" He heard Lydia complaining as an overeager Stiles offered her his sweater. Two benches below them, only a few meters away from him, Adrianna laughed as the redhead explained to a very confused Stiles how to coordinate fabric colours.

"He's completely in love with her," Adrianna stated as she stood up, now wearing her skates, and hobbled towards the ice rink entrance. "Isn't he?" Before either one of them could giver her answer, she had already pushed herself onto the ice, giggling as her feet slid underneath her and she steadied her balance, moving towards the rail for more security.

Allison's content smile was almost enough for Scott to forget about the unfortunate compromise he'd agreed to. Almost. "Is there a reason you invited her?" He couldn't stop himself from asking, immediately regretting it as Allison's smile melted away to a frustrated sigh.

"She's lonely." Allison told him, staring out onto the ice as Adrianna practiced twirling, only to fall flat onto her back. Her sharp laugh echoed through the empty arena. Scott could hardly believe that this was the same girl he'd seen murdering a werewolf—the same girl who'd been closed-off and angry every time he saw her at school.

"It's just," Scott began, trying to find a way to tell Allison that Adrianna was not a good person, without insulting her personally. "She's a hunter." He fumbled. "I've seen her do some pretty mean stuff. I don't see how she could be your friend, especially since Kate was her mother." He added sheepishly. Scott could just hear his mother's voice reprimanding him for judging a person by their family.

Allison's eyebrow raised in a disapproving gesture that further reminded Scott of his mother. Whenever a woman took on that look, it was probably best not to argue with them.

"Scott, she's not just a hunter. She's a person." Allison reminded him, slipping her hand into his. "I loved my aunt, but I know what she's done, I know she wasn't a good person." She shared. Scott kept quiet as his girlfriend continued. "Just think about it." She urged him. "Can you imagine growing up with Kate as your mother? No wonder she's—" Allison searched for the right word, but couldn't find it.

"Give her a chance." She told Scott, tightening her grip on his palm affectionately. "She's already giving you one." She pointed out to him as they both turned to watch Adrianna, weaponless and beginning to look decades younger, skating across the ice.

"Alright." Scott agreed, giving Allison a quick kiss on the cheek. "For you." He told her.

Before he could fully stand up from the bench, Allison hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him in for a deep, thankful kiss on the lips.

"Thank you." She breathed against his cheeks.

Scott fought the hot blush forming across his face and smiled happily at Allison. Deep in his heart, he wondered if this was what love felt like. He'd never really seen it in action, with his parent's divorcing when he was still a young boy.

"Since you've never skated before," Allison spoke up, breaking apart from him to lead him by the hand onto the ice. "Maybe I should give you a few pointers?" She suggested.

"Allison," He gently reminded, feeling the intensity of his emotions fading into the background as he realized that his girlfriend didn't think he could skate. "Not that this is news to you or anything, but you remember the werewolf thing?" He muttered quietly, making certain that the huntress across the rink couldn't hear him. "Super speed, strength and reflexes." He continued, shrugging off her concern.

"So a little ice skating should be no problem." Allison reason with him, clearly amused, as she glided onto the ice in front of him.

"Yeah," He cockily remarked, taking his first steps onto the slippery, frozen surface beneath him. "See? It's not problem—ugh!" He grunted abruptly as he fell to the ground. "Maybe." He hesitantly corrected, looking up at a very smug Allison who was trying her best not to smile.

"Well?" Lydia called as she flew past them into the middle of the rink. Stiles clumsily followed her, trying to keep up. "Come on." She beckoned.

Breathing deeply, Scott prepared himself for the possibility that he'd be making an even bigger fool of himself within the next hour than he had now.

"Okay, you got it." Allison encouraged him as he got to his feet for the third time in a row. "You got it. You got—" She broke off with a cringe as he crashed to the ground painfully.

Scratch that. He prepared himself for the certainty that he'd be making a total fool of himself within the next hour than he had in his entire life. This is going to be a long day, Scott realized.

#-#-#-#-#

"Tell us everything." Gerard commanded the next evening after school, sitting down at the kitchen island alongside Victoria and Chris. Allison had already retreated to her room but Adrianna had not been so lucky. Now she would be forced to tell the hunters every detail of her time with Lydia at the ice rink, or face the consequences she knew far too well.

"It was fun," She began, taking the empty seat across from the trio staring at her intently. Victoria seemed surprised by the girl's very human response. Ever since the day in the car with the Principal, Victoria had probably assumed that the girl was no more than the supernatural creatures they hunted.

Smiling shyly at her aunt, Adrianna continued, threading her fingers together to keep them still as she lied. "Nothing extraordinary happened." She told them calmly. "I really don't see why you're interested in Lydia at all. To me, she seems like the most normal sixteen-year-old of all of Allison's friends." She added thoughtfully, clacking her overgrown nails against the granite counters.

"We're interested in her because of Peter Hale." Gerard carelessly informed Adrianna. Beneath the table, her knees tensed and she could feel her pulse skyrocket. Peter Hale was not someone she wanted to think about right then, or ever, for that matter.

"She was bitten by him at the winter formal," Chris took over explaining, refusing to meet Adrianna's sharp gaze. "Since then, we've had no indication that she'd turned. It's concerning to say the least."

"Why?" The brunette rudely questioned, daring her uncle to stamp down her defiance. "Lydia Martin is human," She stressed impatiently. "And she will remain that way as long as I can help it."

"You're not getting attached to this girl, are you?" Gerard intervened between the one-way staring contest. His voice sent shivers cascading down Adrianna's spine. She could now say, without a shadow of a doubt, that her grandfather scared her out of her wits, just about as much as she knew she hated him.

"Is it so wrong for me to have friends?" Adrianna replied, meeting eyes with the eldest Argent. "How am I supposed to be your loyal spy if Lydia doesn't at least trust me?"

Remaining silent, Gerard sat back in his chair, refusing to grace his granddaughter with an answer. Adrianna took it as another win.

"Just tell us how it went, from the beginning." Victoria snapped irritably, obviously growing tired of the pointless banter between the rebellious huntress and her superiors.

"Alright." Adrianna agreed with a heavy sigh, wiping her damp palms off on her jeans. "We were skating," She explained, remembering in vivid detail the feeling of the ice beneath her skates and the crispness of the air.

#-#

She couldn't remember ever having had this much fun in her entire life. As she clumsily propelled herself across the ice, watching as Lydia gracefully twirled and danced—as though the bumpy ice had turned to air beneath her skates—Adrianna felt for the first time since coming to Beacon Hills, that perhaps her entire family was not doomed after all.

"How do you do that?" She asked Lydia, who slid to a perfect stop in front of the tired, but smiling girl. For now, her tag-along Stiles was not glued to her side. Adrianna knew that would soon change as she heard the uncoordinated teen approaching from a mile away.

"Do what?" Lydia replied, turning on the spot to catch Stiles before he fell.

The two girls smiled at each other. They weren't exactly being friendly, but they weren't hostile either. Something about the egotistical, narcissistic, falsely stupid redhead drew Adrianna in. Like she was an old friend Adrianna couldn't remember making.

That was why it caught her attention when Lydia skated away from Stiles and her, only to stop in the middle of the rink and bend down to look at the ice.

"Lydia?" Adrianna questioned, slightly concerned for the other girl's well-being. "What are you looking at?" She asked as she approached her kneeling form.

Placing her hand on Lydia's shoulder, a jolt shot up the appendage and seemed to burn an image into Adrianna's retinas. Shutting her eyes, she stumbled before falling down with a harsh cry. Holding onto her head, she got onto her knees but instead of feeling the slippery, sharp ice beneath her fingers, she felt something soft and silky.

#-#

"Everything was normal." She continued to tell, keeping her eyes focused ahead of her and her limbs perfectly still. "Lydia and I fell onto the ice one time, but besides that, it was a perfectly pleasant afternoon."

#-#

Opening her eyes fully, Adrianna furrowed her brows as she picked up a handful of light purple flower petals. "What the hell?" She wondered aloud, glancing over at Lydia who was already staring at her.

"You see them too?" The redhead asked, sounding immensely relieved.

Adrianna was too afraid as to why Lydia would have asked such a thing, to properly answer with anything but a mute nod. The pair crawled forwards on the ice, both somehow agreeing on an action without having to communicate it, following the trail of petals until they reached the stem of a large flower.

A plant that Adrianna recognized as wolfsbane.

Lydia reached out to touch the plant, but Adrianna felt a different calling. She scuffed at the ice, and soon, Lydia joined her, to reveal a body some two feet below them.

Burn marks charred the man's face and neck, which were the only parts visible through the cloudy ice. As the figure suddenly came to life, shaking and shuddering, Adrianna's mind caught up with her eyes and she understood who the man beneath the ice was. Lydia screamed out of fear but Adrianna found herself paralyzed by it.

Peter Hale's face stared up at her, eyes blank and unseeing, just like she knew her own mother's were—some ten feet beneath the ground in a coffin the very same man had put her in.

Anger surged to the surface, shattering her momentary stupor and jolting her into action. The knife came out of her boot with more speed than she'd intended, and the blade sunk, hilt-deep, into the ice, shattering whatever spell Adrianna had been under and bringing her back to reality.

Lydia was still screaming, struggling in Stiles' grasp as she cried out, terrified by what she'd seen. No one paid Adrianna any mind as she raced out of the arena and into the woods, breathing heavily.

Her head buzzed strangely and her body twitched with the desire to murder Peter Hale for what he'd done to her mother. It was too bad for her that dead men couldn't be killed.

#-#

As Gerard, Victoria and Chris seemed to be satisfied by her shortened, immensely edited report, Adrianna was happy when they relieved her.

"You may go," Her grandfather told her, exchanging a loaded glance with the others before she departed.

Adrianna didn't know why she'd lied to her family about what her and Lydia had seen, but somehow, she felt like it wouldn't have been right to breach Lydia's trust in such a way.

There was also the fact that Adrianna had a suspicion that seeing Peter and the wolfsbane at the ice rink, hadn't been the result of her powers, but of one supposedly naive and human Lydia Martin.

#-#-#-#-#

"Derek!" Jackson called out loudly as he neared the burned out home of the reclusive werewolf, which he'd stupidly thought could grant him immeasurable strength and power, with just one bite.

"I know you can hear me. You owe me an explanation." He continued, walking up the rickety steps of the porch—or what was left of the porch. "I wanna know why it—why it didn't work." He said to the door in front of him. It was one of the only solid things left of the house.

He waited a minute, then two, before his patience wore thin. "Screw it." He muttered angrily, forcing the door open with his shoulder and stumbling inside as the door gave way more easily than he'd anticipated.

"Holy—" He cut himself off as he took in the intimidating people that occupied the inside of the house.

He counted five men, including Allison Argent's father, along with a young girl he'd seen at school. All of them were heavily armed, some with guns, others with knives, but none more so than the girl. One look at the long, gleaming sword held readily at her side and the pair of sharp hunting knives strapped to either of her thighs, and Jackson didn't have any reservations about turning around and leaving the way he'd come.

"Wait." Chris spoke up, halting the teen's escape from the compromising, if not deadly, situation.

Jackson felt his Adam's apple bobbing as he nervously walked over to the hunter, permitting the man to slap a hand over his shoulder and squeeze, like they were old friends.

"What happened to him?" He hesitantly asked Chris, looking around the burned out house but finding no trace of the werewolf he was searching for.

"That's a good question." Chris nodded, walking both of them further inside the house, towards the stairwell leading to the remains of the second story. "I got one for you. What are you doing here, Jackson?"

Eyes flitting about the house and each hunter nervously, Jackson tried not to appear as guilty as he knew he probably did. The hunters didn't know Derek had given him the bite. He was safe. As long as he didn't screw it up.

"Um—nothing," He began, regaining some of his usual arrogant bluntness. "I was—I was—I was just-" He struggled, clenching his fists tightly and cursing himself for being so easily rattled. "Nothing." He bitterly forced himself to finish.

Why do I have to be so weak? Jackson asked himself furiously. Why do I have to make so many mistakes? Why do I have to be so human?

"Jackson," Chris interrupted the sour teenager's self-hating ranting. "I hope you're not still pursuing something that you shouldn't be. Because I don't want to be forced to pursue you." The hunter threatened, tightening his grasp on Jackson's neck to the point where the boy feared that he'd be suffocated.

"Stay out of this." Chris warned him. "You've got so much good in your life." He reminded him as he guided Jackson so that they stood beside the younger huntress he'd noticed before. "You're smart, good looking, you're captain of the lacrosse team." He listed.

"Co-captain." Jackson corrected acerbically.

Clapping his shoulder amicably, Chris wondered around the arrogant boy until he stood on the opposite side of the huntress and he. With narrowed eyes, Jackson's stare traveled between the two hunters.

The girl was pretty, but not like Lydia. She had a different kind of beauty to her. Like the way Jackson had found himself admiring sharp objects in a museum or even the unstable science experiments he was forced to recreate in class. It was as though she was on the verge of doing something to seriously harm him, and the severity of her gaze did nothing to quell the sudden pit of fear that had landed in his gut.

"Tell us, Jackson," The girl spoke, her lightly freckled cheeks and clear green eyes reminded him of younger girls he'd often associated with being naive and carefree. In her leather jacket, tight jeans, and thickly applied eyeliner—not to mention the weapon she handled so casually—she was anything but. "What exactly did you mean when you said it didn't work?" She finished.

Jackson would have swallowed, even held up his hands in a surrendering gesture to find a way out of the situation he'd landed himself in, only the sword was millimeters from his neck and he knew that if he so much as breathed too deeply, he'd slit his own throat.

"Um..." He muttered nervously, glancing around the room but finding only enemies at every corner. "You wouldn't, by any chance, be another Argent—would you?" He asked tightly, refusing to look away from the shining blade too close for anyone's comfort.

"I'm afraid so," She told him evenly, her rose coloured lips tilting up in a sly smile that sent shivers down Jackson's spine. He knew right then and there, that this girl was capable of much more than the others. "I don't think we've been properly introduced," She extended, dropping the sword with an elegant twirl before sliding it into some sort of holster attached to her back.

"Adrianna Argent." She informed him, reaching out her hand for him to shake. He took it cautiously, afraid of the manic gleam in the girl's eyes. "I'm Kate's daughter." She added with a knowing look.

Jackson really wished he hadn't come here. He remembered what Kate had done to the Hale family. He hadn't known that Allison's aunt had been a mother, but seeing the fierceness of the teen before him and her obvious connection to hunting, he almost wished he was dealing with Kate instead.

At least then, he'd know what he was up against. With this new, unpredictable, frightening contender who—even more disturbingly—seemed to know exactly what she was doing, all bets were off.

#-#-#-#-#

He'd been thinking about her all day. The girl from the sheriff's station that he'd beaten to a pulp and tried to kill. The girl who'd spared his and Derek's lives when she'd had a gun pointed at their heads. The fact that he'd hurt her in self-defense didn't ease his guilt any.

Whatever he did, whether it was pacing, learning about his new abilities as a werewolf, or simply trying not to think about her, the bloody huntress with a million different emotions in her eyes was always on his mind.

Erica had gone out and done things for Derek—what, he wasn't exactly sure, but he thought it had something to do with slowing Stiles down. Aside from right then, standing on the edge of the ice rink with Derek and Erica, he hadn't been able to go outside at all.

It probably had something to do with him being wanted for his father's murder.

Despite the normal reactions he'd had with the accusation and proceeding events—fear and anger being the most prominent—the thing that actually bothered Isaac the most about his current situation, funnily enough, was that he had absolutely no chance of distracting himself with something important enough to make him forget about the girl. Derek had told him she was an Argent—Adrianna Argent.

"Did Derek tell you everything?" He heard Scott McCall's voice echo off the ice as he continued to try to speak with the dark-skinned boy Derek had just recently bitten. "And I don't just mean going out of control on the full moons. I mean everything."

"He told me about the hunters." Boyd admitted, forcing Isaac's thoughts, once more, onto a very specific hunter. He wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans and ignored the curious glance his alpha directed at him. He did not want to know what kinds of emotions Derek could smell off him.

"And that's not enough for you to say no?" The teen shot back incredulously. Isaac didn't understand how Scott could be such a hypocrite. Just because he had never been helpless, and never would be—thanks to his enhanced strength and speed—didn't mean that others weren't struggling to survive. For many others, for him, a bite had been the only hope left for a better life.

"Whatever you want, there's other ways to get it." Scott pleaded up at Boyd, who'd yet to get down from his seat on the zamboni.

"I just wanna not eat lunch alone every day." The boy explained himself. Isaac could hear both their heartbeats; strong and steady. Neither would be willing to back down.

"If you're looking for friends, you can do a lot better than Derek." Scott grasped for something to convince Boyd that he was right.

Walking out onto the ice, Derek, followed by Isaac and Erica, made their presence known. "That really hurts, Scott." Derek voiced. "I mean, if you're going to review me, at least take a consensus."

Pointing at each of his betas, Derek raised his eyebrows, asking for their opinion. Isaac felt a ball of cold dread stick in his throat. He was glad when Derek asked Erica to speak first. He wouldn't have known what to say, had the super-confident blonde not taken the lead.

"Erica, how's life been for you since we met?" Derek questioned, leaning back as though they were being interviewed and all of them weren't werewolves that had just broken into an ice rink in the middle of the night.

"Hm," The blonde thought for a moment, lifting her brow in an action that wouldn't have suited her before she was given the bite. Now, with her leather jacket and tight clothes, it fit like a glove. "In a word—" She intoned dramatically. "Transformative."

Roaring, Erica snapped her fangs and widened her amber eyes. Isaac felt out of place beside the other two. He was dressed just like them, he was even acting like them—pretending not to care about Scott's possibly legitimate concerns—but deep down, he was still the scared boy who hid under the table when his father got drunk.

"Isaac?" Derek prodded and his throat felt too tight for him to even breathe.

This was it. He couldn't fail now. Not after everything he'd been through to get this far. He was a part of Derek's pack, even though he might not have agreed with everything they were doing. Family was everything to Isaac and the first thing Derek had taught him was that a pack was a family.

Tilting his head to the side, Isaac plastered on a confident smirk. "Well, I'm a little bummed about being a fugitive," He shared, flexing his fingers and extending his claws. "But other than that, I'm great." He finished and Isaac could almost believe it.

"Okay, hold on." Scott intervened as Isaac and Erica stalked forward according to what they knew their alpha expected. Neither of them knew what they were doing. "This isn't exactly a fair fight." Scott complained.

"Then go home, Scott." Derek called as Erica growled impatiently and Isaac prayed to God that he didn't get his ass handed to him. He'd had enough beatings to last a life-time.

Flicking out his claws and looking up at the group, Scott's eyes were the same yellow as Isaac and Erica's as he spoke through a mouthful of sharp fangs. "I meant fair for them." He told the alpha.

Erica took the insult as a cue for attack and Isaac had no choice but to follow. As they met the other werewolf on the ice, Isaac only had a moment to feel good about himself as he slashed at Scott McCall's arm and batted away a rogue kick, before he and Erica were pushed away from the more experienced beta, sliding on the ice beneath them.

"Don't you get it?" Scott asked them. Erica lay sprawled across the ice, glaring up at the boy who'd beaten her so easily.

"He's not doing this for you." The boy tried to convince them. Isaac was too focused on the disappointment coursing through his veins to notice anything other than the persistent pounding of his heart.

"He's just adding to his own power, okay?" Scott insisted.

He'd failed.

"It's all about him." Scott lowered his voice, beginning to understand that his words weren't getting through to anyone. "He makes you feel like he's giving you some kind of gift when all he's done is turn you into a bunch of guard dogs!" The teen yelled, regaining his fervour as though it had never dwindled.

Isaac found admiration for Scott, beneath the layers he'd crafted to fit into his new pack. He thought about all the times Derek had used Erica and he to do things for him. Isaac worried that Scott might have had a point.

"It's true." Derek admitted readily. "It is about power."

Boyd got down from the zamboni as Erica and Isaac picked themselves up with what little dignity they had left, and limped over to rejoin their alpha.

"Don't." Scott cautioned. "You don't wanna be like them."

"You're right." Boyd replied, lifting up his shirt to reveal the puncture wounds on his abdomen from where Derek had bitten him. "I wanna be like you." He told the shaggy-haired boy.

As Isaac turned to leave with the others, a particular scent caught his attention. It was like gunpowder and iron, mixed with a floral smell Isaac couldn't identify. He'd smelled it once before, at the sheriff's station.

Looking down at the ground, Isaac's eyes found a particular spot on the ice near where his foot was about to tread on unpolished ice. The handle of a knife protruded from the scuffed surface beneath him, surrounded by cracks and chips. Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and removed the blade. It was small but well-balanced in his hand. It smelled the same as he remembered Adrianna had.

He pocketed the knife and continued on his way, oblivious to the way his heart-rate picked up and his lips lifted in a smile. He owed her his life, after all; the least he could do was return the knife to her.

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