Checkmate

I stood in the doorway, arms crossed over my chest, my blue eyes flickering between Scott and the monstrous figure of Gerard Argent. Melissa stood frozen, terror evident on her face as the Kanima loomed, its presence suffocating.

It had only been a few days since I started staying with the McCalls. After what happened at the rave and then at the station, it wasn't safe for me to be alone. Not when there were hunters everywhere, not when Derek had vanished into the shadows, and certainly not when Scott was still trying to figure out what Gerard's next move would be. I hadn't argued when Melissa insisted I stay even if she didn't know the full story.

Now, standing in the Scott's room with Gerard Argent in front of us, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had walked straight into another nightmare.

"Come on, Scott. Let's be realistic about who's got the upper hand here," Gerard mused, his voice smooth, deliberate.

Scott's jaw clenched. "Let her go."

Gerard merely chuckled. "Can't do that."

I took a step forward, but Scott subtly extended a hand in warning. I bit my tongue, frustration bubbling under my skin.

"But," Gerard continued, his tone taking on a mockery of sympathy, "let her live? That's up to you."

Scott's fists tightened. "What do you want?"

I shifted, eyes narrowing as I studied Gerard's calculated expression. "I want to talk. You haven't been answering your phone." My eyes widened. I didn't know Scott had something going on with Gerard. My gaze snapped to Scott. He knew something. Something he didn't want to tell me.

Scott's breath was shallow, deliberate. "Let her go, and we can talk about whatever you want."

"I want the same thing that I have always wanted-- I want Derek and his pack."

Scott exhaled sharply. "You have them all in hiding. How am I supposed to know where they are?"

Gerard smirked, his confidence unwavering. "I think, with the proper motivation, you could draw them out. And, if you haven't noticed, I now have a fairly impressive means by which I can motivate people. Why do you think I'm able to control him? Plus, Cassie here, she knows, don't you?"

"Fuck you" I hissed. Gerard just laughed, waving me off. I swallowed, my pulse thundering in my ears. My instincts screamed at me to intervene, to do something, but I didn't know what. "Scott... What is he talking about? What does he want from you?"

Scott barely looked at me. "Not now, Cassie."

"Scott-"

"Not now."

My stomach churned at his evasion, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. Whatever he wasn't telling me, I could tell he was trying to protect me.

Gerard's grin widened as he watched the exchange. "Oh, you know the myth, Scott-- the Kanima is a weapon of vengeance."

Scott inhaled sharply. "This is about Kate?"

Gerard's smirk faltered, a flicker of raw emotion breaking through. "I didn't just come here to bury my daughter. I came to avenge her."

Gerad just exhaled and the Kanima dropped Melissa. He didn't say anything else, just gave us a smile as he left. Melissa let out a shuddering breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "Oh, I don't know what's happening..."

I turned to her, stepping closer, but Melissa recoiled. "I don't know what that thing was, or even what you are... but whatever he wants, just give it to him."

Scott's face twisted in agony. "Mom, it's not that easy..."

"Do what he wants. Just give him what he wants."

I grabbed Scott's wrist, my fingers digging into his skin. "Scott. Please. Tell me what's going on."

Scott looked down at my hand, then back to his mother, his entire world crashing around him. "I don't know if I can."

-----☼-----

I pushed open the door to the animal clinic, my heart thundering in my chest. I was scared, nervous, and just generally feeling like crap.

The scent hit me before I even entered the back of the clinic, something sharp, something sickly sweet and wrong. My stomach turned instinctively.

"It's okay, Isaac. We're open," Deaton assured me, his voice calm as always.

I hesitated, glancing back at him. "Why does it smell like that?"

Deaton tilted his head slightly, studying me with something close to amusement. "Scott said almost the same thing to me a few months ago. One day, he could somehow tell the difference between which animals were getting better, and which were not."

I frowned, looking back toward the animal in front of me. It was a dog-an old one. I took another breath, and the scent hit me again, more distinct now, more familiar. My stomach clenched.

"He's not getting better, is he?" My voice was quiet. "Like... cancer?"

Deaton nodded, his expression unreadable. "Osteosarcoma. It has a very distinct scent, doesn't it?" He motioned me closer. "Come here."

I swallowed, but obeyed.

"I know you're well aware of what your new abilities can do for you-improved strength, speed, and healing. You ever wonder what they could do for others?"

I glanced up at him, brows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

Deaton held out his hand, palm up. "Give me your hand."

I hesitated before reaching out. My fingers barely brushed the dog's fur when a strange pain spread up my arm. The dog shifted, letting out a small sigh, and suddenly, the weight in my chest lightened.

I pulled back. "...What did I do?"

"You took some of his pain away," a familiar voice said from behind me. I wiped my tears quickly, looking away from Scott.

I turned to see him standing there, watching me with a knowing expression.

Deaton nodded. "Only a little bit. But sometimes, a little can make quite a difference."

Scott stepped closer, a small smile on his lips. "It's okay. First time he showed me, I cried, too."

I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze away. My chest felt tight for an entirely different reason now.

"They're leaving tonight, during the game," I muttered, staring down at my hands.

Scott frowned. "So, why are you telling me?"

I met his gaze. "I'm not telling you-I'm asking you. I'm asking for your advice."

His brows furrowed. "From me? Why?"

I shrugged, exhaling sharply. "Because I trust you."

"Why? You made it clear with Cassie you don't care about my opinion."

I gave him a small smirk. "Well, you're like her brother, of course I was going to annoy you with it." I paused, my tone softening. "But because you always seem to want to do the right thing..."

Scott let out a short, humorless laugh. "I usually have no idea what I'm doing. Actually, I always have no idea what I'm doing."

I hummed, considering his words. "Do you want to let me know what you're doing right now?"

Scott exhaled, his expression growing serious. "I'm not going anywhere, if that's what you mean. I have too many people here who need me."

I let out a soft chuckle, but it didn't reach my eyes. "Well, I guess that makes me lucky, 'cause, uh... 'Cause I don't have anyone, so..."

Scott shook his head. "That's not true. You have Cassie."

I stiffened slightly, my jaw clenching. "That's why I need to go, Scott. If I leave, I can protect her. Gerard won't have a reason to use her against me."

Scott took a step closer, his voice unwavering. "You think leaving is protecting her? Isaac, if you go, it'll break her. She already lost so much. Don't do that to her."

I swallowed hard, looking away. The weight in my chest grew heavier.

"Are you gonna go with them?" Scott asked quietly.

I hesitated, my fists tightening. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I will. Good luck with the game, though."

Scott let out a breath, shaking his head. "Well, thanks, but I'm not-I'm not going, either. I can't even think about playing some meaningless game right now."

My brows lifted slightly. "You weren't at practice last week, were you?"

Scott shook his head. "No, I skipped it. Why?"

I hesitated just long enough for the air between us to shift. "Then you didn't hear?"

Scott's expression darkened. "Hear what?"

I glanced at him, watching the realization start to dawn on his face. "Jackson was there."

His breath hitched. "What do you mean, 'there?' Like, he was-"

"As if nothing had happened," I interrupted, voice flat.

Scott's eyes widened, his entire body going still. "Really? That means, the game tonight...?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah... He's playing."

-----☼-----

The stadium buzzed with energy, the roar of the crowd filling the night air. I sat on the bench, clipboard in hand, focusing on tracking stats for the game. Numbers, plays, anything to keep myself distracted from the overwhelming tension in the air. I wasn't just keeping track of the game-I was keeping track of everything. Who was where, what was happening off the field, and most importantly, what could go wrong.

"Your dad coming?" Scott asked, adjusting his helmet, turning to Stiles.

"Yeah, he's already here," Stiles replied, scanning the stands.

"You seen Allison?"

"No. You seen Lydia?" I asked.

Scott shook his head. "Not yet."

"You know what's going on?" Stiles pressed.

Scott sighed, his eyes dark. "Not yet."

"It's gonna be bad, isn't it?" Stiles asked, voice quieter now. "Like, people screaming, running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming-kind of bad?"

Scott's jaw tightened. "Looks like it."

I clenched my grip on the clipboard, my stomach twisting. It wasn't just a gut feeling anymore-something was about to go horribly wrong.

Stiles exhaled heavily. "Scott... The other night, seeing my dad get hit over the head by Matt, you know, while I'm just lying there and I can't even move, it just..." he trailed off, looking down. "I want to help, you know? But I can't do the things that you can do. I can't--"

Scott placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

I glanced up as Coach Finstock stomped over, yelling, "We're losing, dude." Stiles blinked. "Now, put your helmet on and get out there. You're in for Greenberg."

Stiles' jaw dropped. "What? What happened to Greenberg?"

Coach scoffed. "What happened to Greenberg? He sucks! You suck slightly less."

"I'm playing??? On the field??? With the team???" I laughed at the shock on his face, despite everything, the smile wide on my lips.

Coach rolled his eyes. "Yes, unless you'd rather play with yourself..."

"I already did that today-twice." I groaned alongside SCott.

"Get the hell out there!"

"Ah!" Stiles yelped, scrambling onto the field.

I barely had time to register the chaos before another voice whispered into my head.

"Scott, can you hear me?" My breath hitched, eyes darting to Scott. His body went rigid. "Ah, you can. Good. Then listen closely, because the game is about to get interesting..."

Gerard.

I tightened my grip on the clipboard as my heart pounded in my chest. Then, suddenly, my blood turned ice cold as his voice shifted, aimed directly at me.

"And Cassie... don't think I've forgotten about you." My body locked up, breath stalling in my throat. "Let's put a real clock on this game, Scott. I'll give you until the last thirty seconds. When that scoreboard clock begins counting down from thirty, if you haven't given me Derek, then Jackson is gonna kill someone. So, you tell me, Scott-- who's gonna die tonight?"

Scott's fingers curled into fists. I forced myself to stay still, to not let the panic show.

"Should it be your mother, who so bravely came out to support you?" Scott's eyes flickered toward the stands where Melissa stood, unaware of everything.

"Or the Sheriff, your best friend's father?" Stiles' dad. My stomach twisted.

"Or, how about the pretty little redhead who managed to survive the bite of an Alpha?" Lydia.

"Or maybe one of these innocent teenagers with their whole lives ahead of them?"

Then Gerard's voice darkened, "Or should I do everyone a favor and kill that ridiculous coach?"

"It's up to you, Scott," Gerard continued, his voice dripping with control. "But, you are going to help me take Derek down... because if you don't, I'll have Jackson rip someone's head off right in the middle of the field and drench everyone you love and care about in blood."

My hands trembled slightly, and I forced them still. I wasn't just a bystander in this anymore. Gerard knew I was here. He knew I mattered to Scott, and that made me a target.

I turned slightly, catching Scott's eyes. We both knew the same thing. Gerard's voice came through again, this time colder, more deliberate.

"And Cassie... you don't even know what you are yet, do you?"

I froze, my breath hitching. My heart pounded against my ribs as his words dug under my skin like claws.

"Your mother knew. Your family knew. And if you think for one second that I don't, you're gravely mistaken." His voice was smooth, almost amused. "There's that pesky prophecy, little Lightwood, one that should've died with your parents. Pity they never told you about it."

My grip on the clipboard tightened so hard my knuckles turned white.

"But don't worry," Gerard continued, his tone dark and laced with cruelty. "If Scott doesn't give me what I want, maybe I'll just take you instead. See if you live up to the legend."

A cold shudder ran down my spine, but I kept my expression neutral. I refused to let him see the fear he wanted. Scott's gaze snapped to me, his own eyes wide with barely restrained panic. He heard it too.

We were already in checkmate.

-----☾-----

The game had barely started, but all eyes were on the field for a different reason. Stiles was playing, but not very well. His helmet was too big, his stick handling was a disaster, and every time he ran, it looked like he might trip over his own feet. But that didn't stop me from cheering him on at full volume.

"GO STILES! YOU'RE KILLING IT!" I shouted, clapping.

Scott turned to me, incredulous. "Are we watching the same game?"

"Absolutely! And I will not let facts ruin my enthusiasm!" I shot back, grinning as Stiles flailed his stick and somehow managed to avoid getting knocked over.

Even Coach looked exasperated. "What the hell is he doing?" he muttered.

Stiles, to his credit, managed to keep moving, even if it was sheer luck keeping him upright. I beamed, still clapping, while Scott shook his head in amused disbelief.

Then reality crashed back in as Gerard's words echoed in my head, wiping the smile off my face. Scott stood as one of our players got knocked to the ground, taking just a moment too long to get back up.

"Sit down, McCall," Coach barked, arms crossed as he glared at Scott.

"But Coach, we're dying out there!" Scott protested, his frustration evident.

"Oh, I'm aware of that! Now sit."

Scott dropped onto the bench, exhaling sharply. I barely had a moment to process before a familiar figure slid onto the bench beside him.

"You came to help," Scott said, relief flickering in his voice.

Isaac didn't look at him, eyes locked on the field. "I came to win."

"You got a plan yet?" Isaac asked, gaze flicking to Scott.

"No... Right now, it's pretty much just 'keep Jackson from killing anyone.'"

Isaac hummed, watching the field like he was calculating every possible move. "Well, that might be easier if you're actually in the game. We have to make it so Coach has no choice but to play you."

Scott groaned. "How do we do that? He's got a bench full of guys he can use before he ever puts me on the field."

Isaac gave him a knowing grin, like he already had a plan.

Scott's eyes narrowed. "...Can we do it without putting anyone in the hospital?"

Isaac smirked. "I can try."

Before Scott could argue, Coach's voice boomed across the field. "Lahey!"

Isaac stood, stretching his arms before jogging out onto the field.

"Ramirez, you're in! Murphy, you're in!" Coach called out, subbing in players.

I scribbled down the changes on my stat sheet when suddenly, Coach's voice cut through the noise again. "LAHEY! Seriously, what the hell is your problem???" He had taken out another player, but in return Jackson had gotten him.

Isaac staggered, gripping his arm, his face pale. Scott and I exchanged a look before he rushed forward to meet him.

Isaac groaned, his breath shallow. "It's not broken... but I can't move it. I think Jackson nicked me, 'cause I can feel it spreading."

Scott clenched his jaw, glancing toward Jackson, who stood eerily still on the field.

Gerard's voice whispered over the crowd. "You want to play chess, Scott? Then you better be willing to sacrifice your own pawns."

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. Isaac was out, and that meant Scott was next.

A paramedic rushed to Isaac's side, counting down. "One, two, three..." They lifted him up on a stretcher.

Coach let out a defeated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "McCall... Either you're in, or we forfeit."

Scott nodded, grabbing his helmet and stepping onto the field.

I barely had a second to process before a new presence appeared at my side. Melissa McCall. She grabbed Scott's arm.

She leaned down slightly, voice low. "Hey, something's happening, isn't it? Something more than a lacrosse game?"

Scott turned, his eyes meeting his mother's. "You should go."

Melissa shook her head, determination in her gaze. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere. And everything I said before? Forget it. All of it. Okay? If you can do something to help, then you do it. You have to."

Scott took a steadying breath, nodding. "I will." I gave his arm a squeeze.

-----☾-----

The roar of the crowd was still ringing in my ears as I watched Stiles, eyes wide, staring at the ball in his net in disbelief.

"Shoot it!" I yelled. "Come on, Stiles, you've got this!"

He looked a little dazed, but then-then he did it. He shot.

I watched in awe as the ball sailed through the air, right into the net. "I scored a goal?" he muttered, his voice an odd mix of disbelief and exhilaration. Then, he broke into a grin. "I scored a goal! I scored a goal!"

I couldn't stop grinning either. "You did it, Stiles! That was amazing!" I clapped, despite everything today, at least Stiles was having a good night.. "I knew you had it in you!"

Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. We had won. We had actually won.

Scott's voice broke through my thoughts. "Where is he?"

"Yeah!!!" Stiles yelled, pumped up, as Coach shouted, still in shock, "We did it! We won!" Lydia was cheering from the stand.

Stiles locked and I felt this rush of happiness, of pride, for my friend. Nothing could ruin this moment.

But then, everything changed.

The lights went out. My heart skipped a beat.

I heard Scott's voice in the distance, panicked. I couldn't see him, but I could feel the fear in the air.

My breath caught in my throat, my hands reaching out, trying to grasp onto something, anything, to steady myself. I was still trying to process what was happening when suddenly a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head.

Before I could even register what was happening, hands grabbed me. One hand closed over my mouth, smothering any scream before it could even leave my lips. I struggled, kicking out, but his hands didn't even loosen.

I gasped for air, trying to free myself, but my arms were pinned to my sides as the grip around me tightened.

"Let go of me!" I managed to gasp, my voice muffled by the hand pressed over my mouth. I fought against him, but the grip only got tighter, colder.

And then, I heard a voice-a voice that made my stomach drop.

"Easy, girl," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "You don't want to make this harder than it has to be."

I twisted, trying to break free, but the more I struggled, the more I felt myself being dragged away. My feet barely touched the ground. The sharp taste of metal filled my senses, and the world around me spun, and I felt the cold breath of fear in my chest.

My head swam as the pain from the blow started to set in. My vision blurred, but I kept trying to fight, clawing at the hand over my mouth, even though I knew it was useless.

"Don't bother struggling," Gerard's voice said, almost like a warning. "You'll only hurt yourself."

I tried to scream again, tried to call for help, but the words never left my lips.

-----☾☼-----

Scott's voice echoed in the darkness. "Mom! Mom, where are you?"

"Scott! Scott!" Melissa's frantic call echoed back. He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him. "I'm fine, but somebody is hurt!" Melissa said, her words cutting through the thick air. "Somebody is down on the field!"

"Get out of the way!" Coach barked. "Move!"

The shuffling of feet, the hurried voices of students and staff-all of it combined into a whirlwind of confusion.

"Jackson?" Lydia's voice rang out in the distance. "What happened to Jackson?"

"Jackson! Jackson! Jackson, what's happening?" Lydia cried out, her words rising in desperation.

"Can we get a medic over here? We're gonna need a medic!" Coach yelled, his voice cracking with the weight of fear. Melissa ran towards him, kneeling by his side.

"Jackson..." Lydia's voice was barely a whisper. "He's not breathing. No pulse."

"No pulse." Melissa's voice was calm, but her words held an edge of disbelief.

There was no more celebration, no more joy. Only chaos and confusion.

And then...

"Stiles! Where's Stiles? Where's my son? Where's Stiles?" Stiles' dad's voice cracked with panic.

The crowd seemed to stir, people rushing around, but Cassie wasn't anywhere in sight. Her absence went unnoticed at first, as the attention remained focused on the immediate chaos-on Jackson, on the desperate search for Stiles.

The air grew still. "Where the hell is my son?!" He screamed again, his voice sharp with fear. His frantic eyes searched the crowd, his hands gripping people, trying to force answers from them.

Lydia's voice broke through the panic.

"Wait... Where's Andie?"

Her words seemed to hang in the air, as everyone froze for a moment.

"That's right," Scott muttered, his voice low. "Where's Cass?"

Stiles' dad whipped his head toward Scott. "What do you mean 'where's Cassie'?" His eyes were wide with disbelief. "She was right there-she was cheering for him-"

Scott's eyes darted around the field, the sense of urgency shifting into something filled with panic. "She... she's gone. She was just here, and now... she's gone."

The panic set in all over again, a fresh wave of fear. Stiles and Cassie were gone.