Game On

The Sheriff's office smelled like cold coffee and frustration. I hovered behind Scott, my arms wrapped around myself, trying not to look too shaken—even though the words on the Deadpool list were still spinning through my head. Names. Values. People being hunted for money. Supernaturals, like us.

Scott stood beside his mom's desk, holding the printout with both hands. "It's a Deadpool," he said, voice steady. "A hit list of supernatural creatures."

He handed it to the Sheriff.

"This is only part of it," Scott added. "The rest still has to be decoded."

Sheriff Stilinski's eyes didn't move from the page. "Who found this list?"

"Lydia," Stiles said from my other side. He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes and his fingers twitching at his side like they were missing a pen to spin.

The Sheriff looked up. "How?"

"She wrote it," Stiles replied. "Actually, she transcribed it... without realizing it..."

"Banshee?" the Sheriff asked, already sounding like he knew the answer.

"Banshee," Stiles confirmed with a nod. I chimed in with a quiet "yeah," just to back him up. This stuff was still weird for most people, but for us? This was Tuesday.

"Beautiful," Stilinski muttered with a sigh.

He looked back down at the paper. "All right, what are these numbers next to the names?"

"We're getting to that," Stiles said. "First, you need to know that the code was broken with a cipher key."

"Wait," Stilinski said, brow furrowed. "You mean, like a... like a key word?"

"It's actually a name" Stiles started.

"'Allison,'" Scott said softly.

The name hung in the air, heavier than everything else in the room combined. I glanced toward Scott, and for a second, the quiet ache in his expression nearly broke me. Allison's name had broken part of the code. Somehow, even now, she was still helping us. Still part of this.

Stiles cleared his throat. "Her name broke a third of the list."

"And now we think there's two other cipher keys," Scott said.

"Which will give us the rest of the names," the Sheriff finished, looking back at the page. "Okay... so, how do we get the cipher keys?"

"Same way we got the code," Stiles said.

Scott added, "Lydia. She's been at the lake house all weekend, trying to find the other two key words."

It made me want to go check on her, honestly. She'd barely slept, and she'd started humming to herself again, soft and off-key, like the whispers were louder than usual. Banshee stuff. Not something I could help with, but I wished I could.

"You didn't know about Demarco or Carrie, hmm?" the Sheriff asked.

I frowned and leaned in slightly. I hadn't even recognized Carrie's name until I saw it on the list, one of the girls I'd tutored once, I think. Now she was gone.

"And what about these other two names on the list, uh, Kayleen Bettcher and Elias Town?" Stilinski continued. "They're Werewolves, too?"

"I don't know..." Scott admitted. "But Deaton said that the Nemeton would draw supernatural creatures here."

"Here being Beacon Hills, or Beacon County?" the Sheriff asked. "The population of Beacon Hills is just under thirty thousand,"

"And dropping," Stiles muttered grimly.

"But if we're talking Beacon County, then you're looking at close to five hundred thousand," Stilinski said. He looked at all of us, serious now. "Look, how many Werewolves, Banshees, Kitsunes, and whatever the hell else is out there are we talking about? And what if the next cipher key uncovers not twelve names, but one hundred?"

"We don't think there will be that many," Stiles said quickly. "There's a limit."

"Because of the numbers," Scott added. "We think that once we decode the names, the numbers will add up to one hundred seventeen."

"One hundred and seventeen what?" Stilinski asked.

"One hundred and seventeen million," Scott said.

Stiles nodded. "One hundred and seventeen million dollars, Dad. Stolen from the Hale vault and being used by someone to finance all these murders."

"Someone who wants every supernatural in Beacon Hills dead," Scott said.

I shifted uncomfortably. This was real—planned, coordinated. And whoever was doing it? They were playing a long game.

"So, the coded list goes out," the Sheriff reasoned, "and someone, these professional assassins, gets that list..."

"And a cipher key..." Stiles added.

"And then they go after the names on the list," Stilinski said. "They being killers with no mouths, tomahawks, thermo-cut wires that can take your head off..."

"Let me see..." Stiles flipped through the autopsy photos, holding one up. "Carrie was also stabbed. What's this mark?"

"We're not sure yet," Stilinski said. "We're still waiting on the M.E.'s report."

"There's one other thing I don't get," he continued. "How did this new assassin know that Demarco was going to be at the lake house?"

Scott gave a small, dry laugh. "Everyone knows he delivers kegs to teenagers for a little extra cash."

"Ahh," Stilinski said with a tired nod. "So whoever ordered the keg killed Demarco."

"Yeah, it was someone at the party," Stiles said.

"A student," Scott added.

-----☾-----

I saw Kira in the girls locker room, staring at the jersey in her hand.

She looked up and smiled, a little shy but full of warmth. "Hey."

"Hey," I grinned, flopping down beside her. "Excited for tomorrow?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said, her voice light but focused. "I'm still not totally sure what I'm doing, but... I guess that's kind of the theme around here, right?"

"Honestly?" I chuckled. "That's most of our lives lately. You'll fit right in."

Kira laughed and then leaned in a little, voice lower. "I heard what you did. At the lake house. With Liam."

I blinked. "Oh. That wasn't a big deal."

"Cassie," she said gently. "It was. You're kind of amazing. You're like, pack mom, but also low-key terrifying. And I mean that in the best way."

That got a laugh out of me. "I try. You're kind of amazing too, you know? I'm really glad you're here."

Her eyes lit up at that. "Thanks. It means a lot coming from you."

"I'll have your back out there," I said, nudging her shoulder.

She bumped mine back. "Right back at you."

We stood in the equipment room, surrounded by half-unzipped duffel bags and beat-up lacrosse gear. Scott rummaged through one, pulling out a stick and checking it for... what exactly, I didn't know. Poisoned blades? Silver tips?

"This is pointless—most of the team plays with their own gear," Scott muttered, dropping the stick with a sigh.

Kira crouched beside a bag, sifting through extra helmets. "Maybe instead of trying to find a lacrosse stick with a hidden dagger in it, we should be trying to get the game canceled?"

Scott shook his head. "The game's the best way to catch him red-handed..."

I leaned against a shelf, trying to keep my nerves down. Kira looked calm, like she always did—but there was this quiet alertness about her now.

Stiles, pacing now, waved a hand. "But what if he's red-handed because his hands are covered in the blood of the person that he just stabbed to death? Which, by the way, could be any of you three."

Scott's expression darkened. "Or Liam..." He paused, then looked at us seriously. "We don't have the whole list. And he could be on it."

That made my chest tighten again. Liam didn't even want to be part of this. He was just a kid, a kid with anger issues and a good heart.

"We don't know anything about that list," Stiles continued, frustration creeping into his voice. "How it's made, how it's updated. I mean, who's been out taking a supernatural census, anyway?"

Kira stood, arms crossed. "How do they even know about me?"

"They know about everyone," Scott said grimly.

I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands. The name Cassandra Lightwood—$15 million still echoed in my mind, burned behind my eyes. Someone had typed that into a system.

Stiles exhaled sharply. "I think Kira's right. I think we should stop the game."

Scott stood taller. "I'm not afraid."

"Neither am I," I said immediately.

"Well, I'm terrified," Stiles said, throwing his hands up, "and I'm not even on the list! Guys, these are professional killers, it's their profession. One of them's got a thermo-cut wire that cuts heads off! Who knows what else they have?"

That silenced us. For a second, the only sound was the clatter of Scott putting the gear back down.

Stiles moved suddenly, brushing past Scott and taking my arm gently. "Hey, Cass. Can I talk to you for a sec?"

I nodded, blinking. "Sure."

He led me out into the hallway, a few feet away from the others. His fingers were tapping his thigh, a sure sign he was working through something.

"What's wrong?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He looked at me, really looked at me. "Fifteen million, Cass."

"Stiles—"

"No, listen. That number isn't just a bounty. It's a statement. You're not just some blip on the radar to whoever's behind this. You're a big fish. One of the biggest. Just behind Scott. That scares the hell out of me."

"I can't stop thinking about it." He stepped closer, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. "Do you realize what that kind of number means? That's not just 'hey, she's kind of important.'"

My chest tightened. "I didn't ask for that number."

"I know you didn't." His voice cracked, just a little. "But you have it. And now I'm walking around trying to pretend like everything's fine, but it's not. Because I keep thinking that if someone comes for you... I won't be fast enough. Or smart enough. Or... enough."

I reached out, grabbing his hand. He let me, fingers curling around mine like a lifeline.

"You're always enough," I said softly. "Always."

Stiles looked at me like he wanted to say something else, but he hesitated. Instead, he just stepped closer. The space between us was barely a breath now.

"I know I joke a lot," he said, voice quieter now. "But I'm serious about this. About you. You matter to me more than any damn list or cipher key or... or Hale vault fortune. I just...I need you to be okay."

I leaned up just a little, and he leaned down. His forehead brushed mine.

"I'm scared too," I whispered. I pressed a soft kiss to his lips, before pulling him into a hug, my head resting on his chest.

-----☾-----

It was just the two of us behind the school, in the open clearing where I sometimes sparred with Allison and then Kira. The air smelled like pine and sun-warmed grass, and somewhere in the distance, birds were chirping like the world wasn't falling apart on a weekly basis.

Liam was going at the punching bag I had hung up like it personally wronged him, his knuckles red and his breathing heavy. But before I said anything, before I gave him advice or teased him, I sat on the ground and let the words come out.

I'd never really told him this part before.

"You know," I said quietly, "when I first got pulled into all of this... I was terrified."

Liam slowed, but didn't stop. Just tilted his head a little, listening.

"I wasn't like Scott. I didn't come into this with a full heart and a moral compass. I was angry. And scared. All the time. I had power I didn't understand and grief I didn't know how to carry. I had lost my parents young, I was living alone. God, I grew up so angry."

I nodded, arms folded as I leaned back against the tree. The wind tugged gently at the hem of my jacket, but my head was still full of memories, sharp-edged and heavy.

"When the Alpha Pack came, I didn't sleep. Not really. I'd stay up with the lights on and my bedroom door open because I was afraid if I blinked too long, they'd be standing over me. Deucalion, Kali, Ennis... they weren't just strong. They were cruel."

Liam lowered his fists, just listening now.

"And then Jennifer happened. She used me. I was her queen in her game of chess and it almost killed me." I swallowed. "She kidnapped people I cared about, and almost killed them. I kept telling myself I was strong enough to stop her, but all I really felt was helpless."

I let out a breath. "Then the Nogitsune came... and everything got worse."

Liam's eyes searched mine. "Stiles?"

I nodded slowly. "That was the worst one. Watching someone you love slowly disappear behind their own eyes, he wasn't him anymore. He was angry and twisted and dangerous, and I still saw my Stiles in there every single time. And he was in my head too. Two weeks are a hazy blur, where I was haunted by visions and voices."

My throat tightened.

"I was scared all the time. I hated it. And I was so angry. Every time we lost someone, Boyd, Erica, Allison... it felt like my soul was splintering. I wanted to break everything around me just so something would hurt as much as I did."

Liam was quiet for a long time, and then he said, "I didn't know it was that bad for you."

I smiled a little. "That's because I try to keep it together for everyone else. But I want you to know that I get it. The fear. The anger. The way it builds inside you like a storm you can't outrun."

He looked at me, something shifting in his expression. "But you're... you're calm. You're always calm."

I snorted. "I broke down in private. Shattered plates, sparred with allison until I was bleeding and raw. It was bad."

Liam blinked. "Whoa."

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything for a second. Then, kind of quietly, he said, "I look up to you, y'know."

That caught me off guard.

"You do?" I asked.

"Yeah. I mean, Scott's amazing, but he's, like... Scott. And Derek's intense as hell. Stiles doesn't like me, I don't think. But you? You talk to me like I'm actually me. Not a project. Not a screw-up."

Something warm twisted in my chest. I smiled, brushing a stray curl out of my face. "You're not a screw-up, Liam. You're doing better than I did at your age. And you've got all of us—Scott, Kira, Stiles... me."

I nudged him again. "Especially me."

He gave me the tiniest smile, the kind that looked more real than any I'd seen on him in a while. "Thanks, Cassie."

"Anytime."

I stood up and offered him my hand. "Now come on, kiddo. Let's see if you can actually land a punch when we spar this time"

He took my hand and let me pull him up.

"One punch and I get to call you big sister for a week," he said, narrowing his eyes.

I grinned. "Deal. But heads up, I hit back."

-----☾-----

It started with yelling. Not the usual chaotic "Beacon Hills" yelling, just... high school yelling. Still, something in the way Liam's voice cut through the air made me turn my head fast.

"Brett!" Liam called, stomping across the school lot like he was ready to throw hands.

I spotted him just as he squared up against a taller guy in a Devenford prep jersey. I recognized Brett. Arrogant. Smug. That guy who always thought being good at lacrosse meant the world owed him something.

"I just wanted to say... have a good game," Liam said, shoulders tight, jaw clenched.

"That's cute, Liam," Brett sneered. "Is that what they told you to say in anger management? Apologize and everything's fine?"

He stepped closer, and I tensed on instinct, moving their way.

"You demolished Coach's car."

"I paid for it," Liam snapped.

Brett scoffed. "Yeah, you're gonna pay for it. We're gonna break you in half out there—and it's gonna be all your fault."

"Okay, that's enough," I said, placing myself in between them. Scott and Stiles were right behind me, Stiles looping his arm around my shoulder.

Stiles spoke with his usual chaotic charm, talking fast to redirect attention. "Hey, what's up, prep students? Welcome to our little public high school! How you doing?" He shook Brett's hand with that fake-cheery tone he used when he was barely holding back panic. "That's a firm handshake you got there. Uh, we're very excited for the scrimmage tonight, but let's keep it clean, all right? No rough stuff out there. All right, see you on the field! Go!"

I stepped in front of Liam and put a hand on his chest. He was vibrating under my palm.

"Hey," I said softly. "Don't let him get in your head. He wants a reaction."

"He's such a jerk," Liam growled, still fuming.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to act like one, too." I gave him a look. "Lets go."

-----☾-----

We were dousing Liam in water, trying to calm him down.

I raised an eyebrow as I leaned against a locker. "Is this... helping?"

"Okay..." Stiles looked vaguely alarmed. "You calm yet?"

A low growl came from his throat.

Stiles raised both hands. "Okay! Okay!"

Scott gave Liam a look. "That car you smashed... I thought you said that was your teacher's?"

Liam dropped down onto the bench, his voice gruff. "He was also my coach. He benched me for the entire season."

Scott crossed his arms. "What did you do?"

"I got a couple of red cards..."

Stiles squinted. "Just a couple?"

I crouched in front of him, my voice softer now. "You gotta be honest with us—what else happened?"

Liam looked away. "Nothing. I got kicked out of school. They sent me to a psychologist for an evaluation."

I watched his hands tighten into fists. There was shame there—thick and real. He wasn't proud of any of this.

"What did they call it?" Scott asked.

"Intermittent explosive disorder."

Stiles blinked. "I.E.D.? You're literally an I.E.D.? That's great. That's great." He turned to Scott, half-joking but mostly not. "You gave powers to a walking time bomb!"

"Stiles," I warned, shooting him a look.

"Did they give you anything for it?" Scott asked gently.

"Risperdal. It's an antipsychotic."

Stiles muttered under his breath, "Oh, this just gets better..."

"But I don't take it," Liam said quickly.

"Obviously," Stiles shot back. I nudged him, giving him a lock that said knock it off.

"I can't play lacrosse on it. It makes me too tired."

Scott sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Okay. I think you should bail out of the game. Tell Coach your leg is still hurting."

"No!" Liam said, sitting up straighter. "No. I can do this, especially if you're there."

He was looking right at me, like his entire spine was held up by the idea that I believed in him. But I saw the fear, too. The crack under the confidence.

Scott hesitated. "Liam... this isn't just about the game. We think whoever killed Demarco may have been on our team."

Liam frowned. "Who's Demarco?"

"The one who brought the beer to the party?" Stiles said. "The guy who was beheaded, remember?"

"We think the person who ordered the keg killed Demarco," Scott added.

Liam shifted, eyes flicking to the ground.

"Liam?" I said, stepping closer. "What is it?"

"I don't know who ordered the keg..." he said slowly, "but I know who paid for it."

My heart sank. And then, without meaning to, I reached out and squeezed Liam's shoulder.

"Okay," I said. "Then we figure it out. Together."

-----☾-----

I was scanning the bleachers, tracking suspicious movement, and watching Liam like a hawk in cleats.

"Let's go! Let's go! Come on!" Coach yelled, whistle between his teeth like he wanted to bite someone with it.

Scott hovered at the sideline, torn. "But Coach, his leg's still healing. I don't think he should play."

"He says he's fine!" Coach snapped back, like that settled it.

"As captain, I'm suggesting Liam sit out the game," Scott tried again.

Coach laughed like he'd just been told a stand-up bit. "And as President of the United States, I'm vetoing that suggestion!"

I sighed and looked at Liam, already jogging out onto the field, despite the tension in his jaw and the weight I could see pressing down on his shoulders.

"What if he gets hurt?" Scott muttered, worried.

"Hey, Liam!" Brett called from across the field. "Think fast!"

The ball came flying. Liam caught it on instinct, barely flinching.

"...Oh, he plays," Coach grinned like it was the Super Bowl.

"There you go, Liam! Liam... Stilinski... McCall...! Oh!"

I jogged out beside Scott, catching up with Kira as we all took our positions.

"Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?" Kira whispered, tightening her grip on her stick.

"Because it usually does," Stiles said from beside me, voice dripping with his nervous sarcasm.

Scott glanced toward Garrett, then back at me. "Kira, you keep an eye on him. Cassie and I'll watch out for Liam."

"Copy that," I said, already scanning the other team. My eyes landed on Brett. I jogged up to him, cutting him off mid-smirk.

"Brett," I said, "I know you guys feel like you owe Liam some payback for what he did, but could you just hold off for one night? Trust me, just one night."

He blinked, then smiled slowly. "Yeah. I can do that."

Scott, standing just behind me, brightened. "Really?"

Brett snorted. "No!"

He shoved past me toward Liam, and I cursed under my breath. "Great."

The whistle blew, and the game began.

It didn't take long to turn ugly. I took some rough shoulders, trying to pass around the other team. I made a couple shots, my eyes not starting from Liam for long.

Stiles was babbling on the field somewhere behind me, yelling, "You guys know anabolic steroids are illegal in the United States?! You wear a lot of facial hair for a teenager... What are you on? Seriously—HGH? Gamma radiation?!"

Kira was sprinting, dodging defense. "Run, Kira! Run, Kira, run!" Stiles yelled.

Coach barked, "Pass it, Kira! Pass the ball!" She didn't, taking a shot and it going wide.

" Oh... Yukimura! Get over here!" I winced as Kira trudged off the field.

"You're benched for the rest of the game," Coach growled.

"What? Why?" Kira exclaimed.

"You didn't pass!"

"I had an open shot!"

"This is a scrimmage, it's about teamwork, Yukimura. So, you're benched."

I grit my teeth and got back into position, catching Liam's eye across the field. He was trying so hard to hold it together, but I saw the twitch in his jaw, the way his grip on the stick was bone-white.

Stay with me, kid, I thought.

It happened in a blink.

A scream tore across the field.

"Brett!" Scott shouted. "Brett, you okay?!"

Coach was already moving. "Okay, back off! BACK OFF!"

I rushed over, heartbeat spiking. Brett was writhing on the ground, clutching his side.

"How hard did you hit him?" Scott asked, kneeling down.

Liam looked stunned. "I didn't... he hit me."

"Stiles!" I called. He was on the phone, holding a hand up to tell me to wait.

"Close your eyes," Scott muttered to Liam. He touched Brett's wound. The boy screamed louder.

Paramedics moved in with a stretcher.

"All right, Brett, we're gonna pick you up now," one said.

Scott turned back to Liam, his expression tightening. "Are you cut? Did Garrett cut you?"

Liam shook his head quickly. "No. No, I'm okay."

Scott's face darkened. "Then he missed..."

Liam blinked. "What do you mean?"

"It's you, Liam..." Scott said. "You're the one he's after."

I felt something cold run down my spine. Everything in me wanted to pull Liam off that field and wrap him in protective bubble wrap. He nodded, jogging over to Coach as Stiles came back over.

A moment later he came up to us, breathless and visibly shaken.

"I talked to Coach. I'm out for the rest of the game."

I gave him a nod. "Good. You've done enough."

"What are you gonna do?" he asked Scott.

Scott's brow furrowed. "I don't know... Something's still not right. We're missing something."

"Guys...?" Stiles called, walking over with his phone. "Lydia just broke another third of the list."

Liam stiffened. "Am I on it?"

Stiles shook his head. "No... but someone else is." I turned to Scott.

"Go, handle it. I'll stay with Liam and Stiles." He nodded, running off

I placed a hand on Liam's back, steering him toward the bench.

He looked up at me, and for just a second, I saw it, the flicker of relief.