Have you ever woken up DEAD? Well I did... when I was eight years old I woke up in my bed covered in blood. I found my mother, father, and baby sister all dead in their sleep. Soaked in blood. From then on I felt like death. Everyone around me dies...
Oups ! Cette image n'est pas conforme à nos directives de contenu. Afin de continuer la publication, veuillez la retirer ou mettre en ligne une autre image.
"I'VE HEARD IT'S SOMETHING ONLY AN ALPHA CAN DO. AND WITH GOOD REASON."
Derek frowns as Peter walks back and forth nonchalantly, "Which is?"
"You know normal wolves never abandon an injured member of the pack. They take care of it. They bring food from a kill and regurgitate it into the mouth of the injured wolf. They'll even give it physical and emotional comfort by intensely grooming it. In a way, they can do more than just ease pain. They can be instrumental in healing their own."
"If you're trying to tell me I can save her-- just tell me."
"I'm telling you I've heard it's possible."
"How?"
Peter nods to the red alarm light, "It's that spark of power that makes you an Alpha. When you take her pain, she draws on the power that provides you those special gifts. The power that heightens your senses and strength. The power that transforms your body. As an Alpha you've got that bit of extra, that spark that intensifies the color of your eyes from a bright yellow to a searing red."
Derek nods, "If I can save her--"
"If. I didn't say it works all of the time. It could just as easily kill you."
"How do I do it? By taking her pain?"
Peter shrugs, "And then some. There's always a cost. That bit of extra? That spark? It doesn't come back."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning you rescind your Alpha status. You go back to being a Beta. If it works, Cora will be alive, but you'll no longer be an Alpha."
Derek grits his teeth not caring about being an Alpha but only caring about the death of his only remaining sister, "If it doesn't work?"
"You'll both be dead."
...
Lydia sits at her vanity table with her mother, Natalie Martin, both of them examining the bruise on Lydia's neck from the wire of the garrote.
"Okay, sweetheart. This is not a problem. Having gotten more than my share of hickey's in high school, I've developed some patented cover- up methods."
Rifling through the makeup drawers, Natalie pulls out brushes, powder and cover-up. Lydia, however, puts a hand over hers to stop her.
"You don't want to go to school? You don't have to."
Lydia shakes her head lightly, "It's not that."
She looks at herself in the mirror, holding her chin up to view the bruise in the light.
"It's just-- someone tried to strangle me. And I survived. I don't need to hide that."
Natalie smiles at her brave daughter with pride, "No. No, you don't." She kisses her daughter softly on the cheek, "We're still going to do your hair, though, right?"
