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He'd figured it would be simple. He'd told McCall, and slipping away with Cora was the easy answer. The past year all condensed down into a duffle bag of clothes and sunglasses; no room for all of his mistakes. It seemed like the best solution, to walk away, go off on their own, leave Scott and Stiles and Isaac and Beacon Hill to their own devices. There was no taking back that he'd screwed up. Saving Cora didn't make up for Boyd and Erica. They were holes in his heart that he didn't think could ever be filled.
They'd saved the last three sacrifices, they'd saved Deucalion from himself, at least for now, and Jennifer had been far beyond saving. He'd heard about the price for the ritual, about Beacon Hills becoming a literal beacon, but he still didn't think he should stay. He could work with Scott, but he'd never be his Beta. Scott had his own pack now, non-traditional as it might be, filled with hunters and Betas and Alphas and a Banshee. It was easy enough to believe that they were better off without him.
Scott could do it better, which was an acidic thought that curled in his chest. No one appreciated it, but he'd tried. He'd done his best, he had tried to be a good leader. He'd made a point to take this most likely to survive the process, to not take the strongest, but the most vulnerable, those who needed the Bite. Isaac, Erica, Boyd... They were people that had been stronger, better as werewolves. He'd wanted to protect them, to keep them safe, to teach them. Their blood was on his hands, except Isaac, who hadn't really been his since he'd sent him away. He'd done too good of a job making the blond Beta hate him.
He flips the lightswitch, and the empty loft plunges into darkness. Despite everything that had happened, it looks like no one had ever been there at all. How he liked it. He tugged at his jacket, as he picked up his bag. Cora was waiting for him and he was already halfway out the door. But he lingered, brows drawing together, looking at the dark doorway. There was so much to leave behind.
They'd saved the last three sacrifices, they'd saved Deucalion from himself, at least for now, and Jennifer had been far beyond saving. He'd heard about the price for the ritual, about Beacon Hills becoming a literal beacon, but he still didn't think he should stay. He could work with Scott, but he'd never be his Beta. Scott had his own pack now, non-traditional as it might be, filled with hunters and Betas and Alphas and a Banshee. It was easy enough to believe that they were better off without him.
Scott could do it better, which was an acidic thought that curled in his chest. No one appreciated it, but he'd tried. He'd done his best, he had tried to be a good leader. He'd made a point to take this most likely to survive the process, to not take the strongest, but the most vulnerable, those who needed the Bite. Isaac, Erica, Boyd... They were people that had been stronger, better as werewolves. He'd wanted to protect them, to keep them safe, to teach them. Their blood was on his hands, except Isaac, who hadn't really been his since he'd sent him away. He'd done too good of a job making the blond Beta hate him.
He flips the lightswitch, and the empty loft plunges into darkness. Despite everything that had happened, it looks like no one had ever been there at all. How he liked it. He tugged at his jacket, as he picked up his bag. Cora was waiting for him and he was already halfway out the door. But he lingered, brows drawing together, looking at the dark doorway. There was so much to leave behind.
