Chapter 15: Are you sure that's a gun, Mr. Argent?
Hope was sitting in the passenger seat of Stiles' Jeep, as Lydia wasn't feeling well. Stiles didn't hesitate to offer her a ride. Scott, meanwhile, was complaining about not getting rave tickets because Jackson had gone all creepy, cut the line, and scared off the distributor-who was pretty much the next target.
"There's got to be some other way to get tickets, right?" Scott asked hopefully, glancing at the two of them as they got out of the car.
"It's a secret show. There's only one way-and it's a secret," Stiles replied, annoyed.
"I bet it won't be long before you get the tickets," Hope said.
"Is that your witchy vision again?" Stiles whispered in her ear. The closeness made her heart tingle with delight.
"Unfortunately, only till season two," Hope mumbled under her breath.
"Season what?" Scott asked, confused.
Ah, shit. He has super hearing, you idiot. "Nothing," she replied quickly-just as Matt arrived and unintentionally saved her.
"Hey," Matt greeted. The three turned to face him, noting the furrow in his brows.
"Do any of you guys know why no one's getting suspended after what happened the other day at school?"
"Just forget about it," Stiles said harshly. "Nobody got hurt."
Matt turned to him, unimpressed. "I had a concussion."
"Well, nobody got seriously hurt," Stiles shot back with a glare.
Matt glared right back. "I was in the ER for six hours."
"Hey, do you wanna know the truth, Matt?" Stiles stepped closer, clearly annoyed. "Your little bump on the head is about this high on our list of problems right now." He gestured dramatically to the ground, his voice rising.
Scott looked embarrassed, while Hope remained unbothered-but pretended to care. She had a plan- She thinks she has one.
"That's so rude of you, Stiles. Are you okay, Matt?" she asked with exaggerated concern.
"Oh-I'm okay. I'm fine," Matt said, flustered by the attention from a girl like her.
"Oh, I don't think you look fine. Come on, let's have a little therapy session." Hope grabbed Matt's arm and walked off with him, throwing a wink back at Scott, who looked very confused, and at Stiles, whose eyes narrowed with jealousy.
"What just happened?" Scott asked, still watching them walk away hand in hand.
"I hate him," Stiles muttered darkly.
Hope didn't actually have a plan. Not a real one anyway. She just liked messing with Matt. Something about the way he blushed and stammered like he'd never spoken to a girl before was too entertaining to pass up. Besides, it irritated Stiles-and that was just a bonus.
She was also thinking if he was worth saving, after all he is going to die. He is a creepy stalker with trauma and a serial killer. Everything a dark romance girly needed except he looks like a looser.
"So..." Matt began, nervously clutching his backpack strap as they walked, "this therapy session, is it like... metaphorical or-"
"Oh no, it's real. Deep breathing, chakras, the whole nine yards," Hope said with a straight face.
Matt blinked. "I didn't bring a yoga mat."
Hope was about to say something else ridiculous when the intercom buzzed to life overhead, interrupting the moment with a screech that made both of them flinch.
"Hope Mikaelson, please report to the principal's office."
She froze mid-step. "Oh, perfect. That sounds ominous."
"Did you do something?" Matt asked, concerned.
"No, but I look like I would," she replied casually, spinning on her heel and heading off.
Hope stepped into the principal's office to find Gerard Argent sitting there like the final boss of a video game she had no interest in playing. He gave her a smile that was about as warm as a freezer door.
"Hope. Thank you for coming," he said smoothly. "Have a seat."
"I'd rather stand. You're not exactly my emotional support crypt keeper," she said, arms crossed.
Gerard chuckled dryly. "Straight to the point. I admire that. You're sharp. Smart. Gifted. You could be... useful."
"And you could be less creepy, but we can't all get what we want, can we?" she quipped.
He leaned forward, ignoring the jab. "You know, this town is full of monsters. Threats. People who could hurt the ones you care about. But I think you and I-we could stop them. Together."
Hope raised a brow. "Are you trying to recruit me into your murder club?"
"I'm offering you protection. Purpose. A place beside me."
"Yeah, see, that sounds exactly like something a Sith Lord would say," Hope said, backing up a step. "Hard pass."
Gerard's expression darkened ever so slightly, though he quickly masked it. "Pity. I hoped you were smarter."
"Oh, I am smart," she said sweetly. "Smart enough to know you're not looking for allies-you're looking for weapons."
There was a long pause before Gerard muttered, almost to himself, "If she's just a witch, she's manageable... but if she's something more... like werewolf more-"
Hope's eyes narrowed. "Careful, grandpa. You're starting to sound like someone who doesn't value his kneecaps."
Gerard stared at her, calculating.
"I'm not scared of you," Hope said flatly, already halfway out the door. "And I don't work for fascists in discount suits."
"Are you sure about that dear. We could help each other. Allison is your friend"
"I can, but I won't... even if Allison is my friend." She rolled her eyes.
As the door shut behind her, she muttered, "Next time, I'm sending Matt. Maybe he'll bring the yoga mat."
Hope didn't even bother going back to class. Whatever history lesson was waiting for her paled in comparison to Gerard Argent trying to recruit her into the Brotherhood of Creepy Grandpa Assassins.
She left the school without so much as a glance back and made her way to the only person who might take her seriously-and wouldn't try to throw holy water at her.
Derek Hale's hideout.
It's an abandoned subway station (a former train depot), tucked away underground, full of exposed concrete, graffiti-covered walls, broken tiles, and dim lighting that somehow always makes everyone look more intense than necessary. It's drafty, dusty, and eerily silent-except for the occasional drip of water echoing through the tunnels. Basically, it's the ultimate "do not enter" spot that screams "danger lair," yet somehow becomes home base for a pack of teenagers.
There's random furniture dragged in-like mismatched couches, an old desk, and gym equipment that Derek uses for brooding workouts. No TV. No kitchen. No real beds. Just cold, hard werewolf vibes and enough shadows to make everything seem 10% more dramatic.
"Knock, knock," she called, stepping inside. "It's your favorite uninvited teenager."
Derek, who was lifting some massive weight shirtless (of course), barely looked up. "You're skipping school."
"Wow, thank you, Officer Hale. What are you gonna do, arrest me with your brooding?" Hope quipped, plopping onto a dusty couch like she lived there.
"You better have a good reason."
"Oh, I do. Grandpa Argent just tried to recruit me into his hunter cult."
That got his attention. The weight hit the floor with a thud.
"He what?"
Before Derek could say more, two figures entered-one tall and quiet, the other with curls and a sarcastic resting face.
"Uh...new people," Hope noted. "Are these your minions or do you just collect broody dudes now?"
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Who's the girl on the couch?"
"The girl who just turned down an offer to join Gerard Argent's evil empire," Hope replied smugly, tossing her legs over the arm of the couch.
"This is Boyd and Isaac," Derek muttered. "Boys, this is Hope."
"Hi." Boyd gave a polite nod.
Isaac just squinted. "Wait...you're that witch, right?"
"Oh, wow. Word travels fast. I should start charging admission." She looked around. "Do I get a mug or jacket for being in this 'secret werewolf club' or are we just vibing?"
Derek crossed his arms. "Tell me everything Gerard said."
Hope sobered a little and sat up straighter. "He tried to butter me up. Called me 'smart,' 'gifted,' 'dangerously attractive'-okay maybe not the last one, but the energy was there. Then he dropped the whole 'join me and we can save the world from monsters' speech. Classic manipulation tactic. If he knew I was a werewolf too? I think he'd skip the flattery and go straight to silver bullets."
Isaac frowned. "Why would he want a witch on his side?"
"You're a werewolf too? How is that supposed to work?" Boyd added, confused.
"Because he's desperate," Derek muttered. "And Hope's powerful."
Hope flashed a proud smile. "Was that flattery from you? Are we bonding?"
Derek shot her a look. "No."
She turned to Boyd and Isaac. "Is he always this charming?"
"Only on full moons," Boyd replied dryly.
"So, what's the plan, Alpha?" she asked with mock seriousness.
"Deaton gave us Ketamine to sedate the Kanima at the party while we try to figure out who's controlling him," Derek said, casually returning to lifting weights.
"Lucky for you, Derek, I already know who's controlling him. But first, do you have anything to snack on? I'm starving."
Derek gave her a blank stare before handing over an energy bar.
"Thank you, emotionally constipated alpha," she said, unwrapping it. "Anyway-Matt's the one controlling the Kanima. Because I'm a genius, obviously."
Erica entered mid-sentence, just in time to catch the last part.
"So that creepy photography kid is the master?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Are you doubting me? Who figured out Jackson was the Kanima? Me. And I was right."
"Then why's he murdering random people?" Derek asked, unconvinced.
"I forgot his tragic backstory. Something about almost drowning, I think... and I say that with the utmost sensitivity," she added, sarcastically.
"And you're telling me this because-?"
"Because someone other than Stiles should know. I can't tell Scott-he's too nice. He trusts everyone except his actual friends."
"So... you're going to kill Matt?" Derek asked, raising a brow.
"Of course not. I'm going to kidnap him. Until I find a way to break his bond with the Kanima," she said, nodding like she was agreeing to murder but technically saying something else.
"I'm hoping it works-unless the Argents decide to stick their noses in and ruin everything again. I still feel like I'm forgetting something..."
She paused, then clicked her tongue. "Right. I know Matt's the master. I know Scott is working with Gerard-and for good reason-"
"What?!" Derek barked, his eyes narrowing.
Hope blinked. "Did I say that out loud? You weren't supposed to hear that. I hate spoilers too."
"He's betraying me?"
"Oh, calm down, Sour Wolf. He's being threatened. And let's be honest-you're not exactly the 'You can rely on me' type. Gerard may be a dying old man, but he's more strategic than you. All you do is brood in corners and threaten teenagers with death-by-fang." She paused. "Wow, I'm yapping again. I'll stop now."
Derek sulked, visibly annoyed.
Hope sighed dramatically. "Oh, don't pout. You got me, buddy. I won't betray you. Here, a magical hug to erase all your worries-shoo." She stepped forward and hugged him.
"Stop touching my abs," he said flatly, standing stiff as a board.
"My bad. Nice abs, though. I'll see you at the party." She winked and bounced off with a grin.
Erica stared after her with a teasing smile. "The girl's insanely lovable."
Derek rolled his eyes. "She's trouble."
Derek and Boyd were on their way to the party when Chris Argent and four hunters suddenly blocked their path.
"Derek, back off," Chris warned.
"Back off? That's really all you've got?" Derek scoffed. "Gotta say, Chris, I was expecting more from the big bad veteran werewolf hunter."
Chris gave a knowing smile. "Okay then. How about-'Didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring claws to a gunfight?'"
At his cue, the hunters cocked their guns and aimed them at Derek and Boyd.
"That one actually sounded pretty good," Boyd muttered.
Derek rolled his eyes.
"Are you sure that's a gun, Mr. Argent?" a new voice chimed in.
They all turned, and there stood Hope with a deceptively innocent smile and her usual laid-back confidence.
Chris looked confused, wondering who she was, when one of the hunters cursed, "What the fuck is this?"
He stared at the rose in his hand. In fact, everyone's jaws dropped when they saw their weapons transform into flowers right before their eyes.
Chris instinctively reached for the pistol in his back holster, but instead of cold metal, he pricked his hand on the thorn of a rose.
"Now that's just awesome," Boyd said, clearly impressed.
Even Derek looked surprised, though he masked it well with his usual brooding expression. But Hope caught the flicker of pride in his eyes, and a wide grin spread across her face.
"How did you do this?" Chris asked, stunned.
"Magic," she replied with a proud smile.
Derek was about to attack, but Hope stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Nuh uh. Ever heard of that beautiful five-letter word called 'peace'? Yes, Derek-the chaotic me is promoting peace now. Let's not fight like the good people we pretend to be."
She leaned in and whispered-loud enough for everyone to hear-"Just kidding, you can kill them after we complete our task. I've wasted half my time already."
Derek couldn't hold back the amused smile that tugged at his lips.
Hope knew he wasn't going to actually hurt anyone. She just wanted to mess with the hunters, who now looked scared out of their minds-except Chris, who stared at the duo in pure confusion.
"We'll take our leave, hunter-men," Hope announced, linking her arms with Boyd and Derek as she dragged them away.
The hunters could only watch in disbelief as the three walked off without a scratch.
"You're lucky I was passing by," Hope said once they were far enough.
"I think my heart just skipped a beat," Boyd said, placing a hand over his chest, still dazed.
"Aww, you're cute," Hope cooed, making Boyd blush furiously.
Derek glared at him, and Boyd quickly looked away from her.
When they finally reached the party, they had to split up.
"I'm craving some-"
Before she could finish, Derek shoved a chocolate bar into her hand without a word and dragged Boyd off with him in search of Jackson.
"Chocolate," she muttered, looking down at the bar in her hand like it was a sacred gift. "He definitely likes me."
And with that, she entered the party, munching on the chocolate with a content smile.
Hope weaved through the crowd, scanning the dance floor with sharp eyes. Neon lights flashed, music pulsed through the gym like a heartbeat, but she wasn't here for the party. She was here for Matt.
And there he was-sitting alone in a corner, sulking like a rejected villain. No Allison in sight.
Hope smirked. Perfect.
She made her way over, stopping right in front of him. "Looks like your date ditched you," she said, her voice honeyed but edged. "Fortunately for you, I don't have a date either."
Matt blinked up at her, clearly surprised. "Hope?"
"In the flesh," she replied with a slight tilt of her head. "Wanna step outside? Too loud in here."
He hesitated for just a second before nodding and following her. She led him to a quiet hallway near the stairwell, where the music faded to a dull thump behind the walls.
"So," Hope said, turning to him, "I need something from you. And before you say anything weird, it's just blood. A little drop. Scientific stuff. You know, girl things."
Matt stared at her for a long second-then gave a crooked, almost shy smile.
"I always knew you liked me."
Hope raised a brow. "Come again?"
"I mean, I liked you first," he said, stepping closer. "But you were always around Scott or Derek or Stiles... I didn't know how to say it. So I went for Allison. She was close to you, and-I thought maybe, if I couldn't have you..."
Her heart thudded. She blinked, stunned for a second. He was obsessed with me this whole time? Not Allison?
She barely had time to process it before Matt suddenly leaned in-too fast, too close-and kissed her.
Her entire body stiffened. For a second, her brain blanked.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't romantic. It was unexpected and unwelcome and wrong.
Hope yanked herself back, breathing hard. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes sparked with fire.
"Wow," she said flatly. "That was... something I did not ask for."
Matt looked a little dazed, like he thought he just had a moment.
"Listen very carefully," she said, her tone chilling as she stepped closer, "that wasn't an invitation. That was assault."
Before he could respond, she flicked her fingers. "Dormias."
Matt dropped like a rag doll.
She stood over him, chest rising and falling as she tried to keep her composure. Her hands trembled just a little as she bent down, pulled out the vial, and took the blood she needed. She sealed it tight and shoved it into her coat pocket.
Then she looked at Matt's unconscious form with a cool, controlled expression.
"I hope you dream of rejection and therapy."
Straightening her shoulders, she fixed her hair, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and whispered to herself, "You're okay. You're strong. Let's finish what we started."
With that, she walked back into the chaos of the rave, looking for Derek and the others-calm, fierce, and untouched by the storm behind her.