How hard could it be? • LM / SS

Chapter 119

                       "After all, there's no I
                                     in team!"

The Hale vault was everything that Max had expected; dark and gloomy, just like it's owners. The short amount of time the group had been stuck in here felt like a lifetime, only each other's company to keep them occupied. The shelves were lined with boxes and jars, full to the brim with unknown objects. Max busied himself with searching through the contents of each box, taking his time and slowly relishing in the different textures on his fingertips. A bottle, similar to the essential oils that sat on his desk at home. A gritty stone, nothing like the crystals he carried in his jeans pocket.

Although the others weren't enjoying the illness, Max was having the time of his life. It sounded mean when he said it that way, but he was unsure how else to phrase it. He was able to feel things, able to make contact with physical objects without the worry that he would see one of his best friends die. There was only so much he could take of wearing gloves before it became torture. He couldn't remember it being this uncomfortable when he was a child.

"You know, this is where we all started," Stiles' voice echoed in the vault. He was sat on the cold floor, cradling Malia in his arms. She had definitely seen better days, the sickness doing nothing for her health. "That's where the money was."

Liberty rolled her eyes, but not without chancing a glance at the safe the boy was gesturing at. This was why she hated werewolves. Alright, she was aware that Stiles himself didn't howl at the moon, but he was still a crucial member of the pack. For some reason that was beyond her, werewolves and their packs seemed to find joy in making dramatic re-enactments of speeches that were, in fact, quite unnecessary.

"Nine hundred and sixty seven million in bearer bonds," Stiles sighed, cracking his knuckles. All of this grief over a couple of amateur, greedy assassins.

"Wait, how much am I worth?" Liberty whispered, crawling towards the redhead who had sat next to her in the exam. She was pretty sure their name was Lily, but she had inherited Blair's tendency to forget names. "On the dead pool," she clarified. Sometimes having an older sister that was a druid came in helpful. Blair always seemed to have some of the answers before anyone else did.

"250k," Lilith shifted in their seat, which was an over turned bucket that she kept nearly toppling off of. Their eyes darted back and forth, watching Kira anxiously pace the room. She had accompanied Max in his search of the room, but had gotten bored in ten minutes and resulted to watching water drip from the roof. "Nathan's worth the same," they explained, clicking her tongue in boredom. Max had filled them in about what he had found on the dead pool while they had been waited to see if they were allowed out of quarantine or not.

"Okay. Thanks," Liberty choked out, covering it up with a cough. She was sure her pupils resembled saucers, the world spinning and Lily's voice talking in slo-motion. Two hundred and fifty was a decent amount, which meant— apart from Calliope— they should be safe for a while. There was a long list of people who needed to be killed before them. But the thing that had made her stomach sink wasn't the price; it was Nathan's name.

Because the last time she had checked, he was a normal, human fifteen year old boy.

"Mom does this thing," Scott scratched the back of his neck anxiously, sneaker tapping against the floor. "She writes down all of the items in our budget and how much they cost, then she adds them all up and figures out how long we have until we lose the house." The direction of the conversation had turned from bearer bonds to money trouble very quickly. To add on to the guilt he was feeling about Peter being Malia's dad, the bag of money under his bed made matters ten times worse.