Jake sat alone at the table, staring at the untouched plate in front of him.
"Damn," he muttered. "I think I really messed up."
Upstairs — in Jake's room.
Jimmy paced in slow, tight circles, jaw clenched, fists tightening.
"She's onto me… I know it," he whispered.
His eyes flicked to the duffel bag by the bed—the one that never left his side.
Packed with salt, charms, holy water, and silver crucifixes.
"I'll get her," he said under his breath. "All I need is patience."
Jimmy's fingers traced a silver cross tucked into his bag.
He took a slow, steadying breath.
"Time to go demon hunting"
He slung the bad over his shoulder, the weight reassuring.
"I'm coming for you."
He cracked Jake's bedroom door open, peering into the hallway.
No voices. No movement. Just the house breathing around him.
"Good."
"First stop: the kitchen."
"If I remember correctly, demons don't do well with holy water or silver."
He crept down the stairs, each step careful. Precise.
In the kitchen, Jimmy moved with quietly.
"She's bound to come do the dishes sometime," he muttered, a wicked glint in his eye as he sprinkled holy water across the sink, the counter, even the fridge handle.
"I just need one reaction."
"What the hell, man?" Jake's voice cut in from the doorway.
Jimmy froze mid-sprinkle, eyes wide.
"Shh—shut the hell up," he hissed. "You want her to hear?"
Jake stepped inside, brows drawn tight.
"Why the hell are you throwing water all over my kitchen?"
"It's holy water," Jimmy snapped. "If she flinches, we'll know."
Jake groaned.
"This is ridiculous…"
Jimmy didn't answer. He just kept watching the doorway. Waiting.
Jake sighed, rubbing his temples.
Just then, footsteps creaked on the stairs.
Sarah.
She entered, carrying two mugs. Her eyes flicked between them, instantly sensing the tension.
"…What's going on?" she asked.
Jimmy straightened, eyes locked on her hands, her feet—every subtle movement.
Sarah stepped toward the counter. Reached for the fridge handle.
Jake held his breath.
Jimmy leaned forward, whispering to himself, "C'mon… show me something."
Sarah opened the fridge.
No reaction.
She poured some milk into a mug. Stirred. Sipped.
Still nothing.
Then, just as she turned to leave, her nose crinkled slightly.
"…Why does it smell like a church in here?"
Jimmy's grin spread slowly.
Jake muttered, "Shit."
"What? You got something against churches?" Jimmy said, playing it cool.
Sarah raised a brow. "Of course not. It's just kinda—wait, no. I don't have to explain myself to you."
She turned and walked off, muttering under her breath:
"Does this fool really think I'm a demon? How dumb can he get? Like I'd trip over some holy water… and he'll probably never even get his hands on real silver. He's not a threat without one."
Jimmy watched her go, grin fading into something darker.
"She noticed," he whispered. "I knew it."
He spun toward Jake, eyes lit with excitement.
"Jake, did you see that? She smelled it—she knew!"
Jake rolled his eyes.
"Nothing happened. You just got my kitchen all soaked and holy for no reason."
His voice was calm, but inside, his heart was racing.
One thought wouldn't leave his mind:
Is she mad at me?
Jimmy continued his rambling, full of theories and self-righteous pride.
Jake sat beside him, silent—lost in thought.
Upstairs —
Sarah shut the door behind her, setting the mugs down on the desk with a little more force than she meant to.
"Holy water," she muttered, pacing. "Really?"
She caught her reflection in the mirror.
No glowing eyes. No sharp teeth. Just a tired, irritated girl with too much on her shoulders.
"He thinks he's some kind of demon hunter now? And Jake—he just stood there and let it happen?"
Her jaw tightened.
Part of her wanted to laugh. The other part—the wolf.
It was restless. Coiled. Ready.
"He's not a threat… not yet. But if he keeps pushing..."
She sat on the edge of the bed, dragging her fingers through her hair.
Her pulse still beat fast—not from fear. From disrespect.
"Somehow, I kissed that idiot yesterday," she whispered. "And today, he's making me regret it."
A bitter chuckle slipped out.
"Men are exhausting."
She leaned back onto the bed, eyes on the ceiling. But her mind was elsewhere—wild, simmering beneath the surface.
"One more stunt like that, Jimmy… and I'll show you what you're really dealing with."
Something inside her was shifting.
Not snapping. Not breaking.
Just… reawakening.