Note: Y'all...this chapter...straight banger! 😂

So, fun fact: The fight with Red Eyes that happened in New Moon was actually supposed to happen in Eclipse! It was also supposed to be a group of vampires to deal with rather than one person; and both the entire pack and the Olympic coven were supposed to be there. It would've happened a little bit before the big pursuit of Victoria in "Chase". At this point, Marshall still would've been extremely against working with his coven, but he got involved to help make sure the townspeople would be safe.

Also: I'm really spoiling you guys with this chapter because it features not one, but TWO endings! I bounced between them for a really long time, so I figured I'd just put both instead of choosing only one to publish.

Enjoy!

***

"How many did Esme say there were?"

"Five of them. They're causing a pretty big ruckus where they are, so she wants us to head over as fast as possible. From the way it sounded, they might be dealing with vampires with extra abilities. Carlisle's going to do his best to bring them over toward the treaty line so we can get to them faster. Keep your guard up. Now, let's move out!"

Marshall didn't bother waiting for confirmation. Instead, he exited the Uley house with fast steps and shifted into a quick sprint upon making contact with soft grass. Tearing clothes could be heard behind him. It was followed by heavy paws running along the forest floor.

As per usual, the pack formed around their vampire to travel as a single unit.

Marshall's fists were clenched tight enough to make them shake.

Since he was back on speaking terms with Esme, permission was granted for her to call if it was ever necessary. Regardless of whether it was for a nice outing, to hunt together, or if something like this happened—if she ever needed help because of an active threat—Marshall would come running without hesitation. Unfortunately, though, seeing as the rest of the family was involved, any lingering traces of distaste for the situation had to be forced down.

He didn't want to see any of them; especially Edward and Rosalie.

Mere passing thoughts of either person brought Marshall back to their last conversation after being outed by Bella. A lot of painful, horrible things were said. A lot of inexcusable things were done. And a very clear recollection of that night never ceased to bring about that same sense of blinding anger he felt when it happened.

An encompassing, raw desire to slaughter those who wronged him—the feeling was a difficult one to forget.

Truth be told, it was unclear if he was actually going to step in if anyone, minus Esme, got hurt.

They hadn't cared when Marshall was forced into mental and emotional anguish. They hadn't cared when he was blatantly ridiculed in regard to his sexual orientation. They hadn't cared when his beautiful, loving relationship was dragged through the mud by people who didn't even try to understand.

Why should he care about them for any physical wounds they may receive?

Besides, ever since the whole ordeal with James transpired, Edward made it a habit to preach to his mate about how capable, fast, and strong the coven was. 

If his words rang true, then the pack wasn't needed to watch over anyone.

If not, well, it wasn't Marshall's mess to clean up now, was it?

Still, he found the current ordeal to be serious enough to warrant an honest reveal pertaining to certain hidden abilities.

"Listen to me carefully, all of you," he commanded over their bulky footfalls. "I know it's extremely uncommon to run into vampires who are gifted. But you guys need to prepare yourselves for the off-chance that you might be dealing with someone who is. Never, not even for a moment, think you've got the upper hand on the person you're fighting. You never know what kinds of tricks they could be hiding up their sleeves.

"For the sake of keeping you guys in the loop, I'll admit it because I know Paul hasn't. Alongside Edward, Alice, and Jasper, I am also gifted. Mine is the only one capable of being used for physical defense and attacks. I don't plan on using it for personal reasons. But if I do, if I warn you to get out of the way, then you need to make sure you do it for the sake of not getting injured. Or worse. Understood?"

Several barks were given in compliance.

"Gifted vampires, especially ones who are like me, aren't afraid to play dirty. They'll taunt you to make you slip up. Use your weaknesses against you. You guys might have difficulty getting close in that case. If that happens, do whatever you can to keep them distracted. Either myself or someone else from the coven, if they're competent enough, will help you out-."

Marshall's vision tunneled as his nose picked up the pungent scent of sweet copper. Faint traces of human blood came at him from different vicinities. Thankfully, the sharpness of his keen sense was enough to tell him how many people were there without the need for any visual feedback.

"They're close by. Seems the Cullens have gotten the other group down to three members. Based on the stench, they're all vampires who feed from humans. Not that it needs to be said, but let's deal with this. Swiftly."

Everyone picked up speed.

Marshall's adrenaline heightened.

He hadn't experienced a fight with other vampires in a long time. The prospect of finally getting to do so filled him with a bit of excitement. 

If he just so happened to imagine himself pummeling in Edward's face while going against their enemies, that was no one else's business but his own.

The pack continued to weave through the trees with ease. Plans were traded in mind, shown via ears flicking, twitching, and moving to face in different directions. A few people altered their positions to keep them closer to specific partners. Spacing was distanced enough to make it so anyone could make unplanned attacks if the time came for it.

Marshall was thankful for the tactic because he heard the unmistakable sound of a tree being uprooted from the ground. 

A grunt was followed by rushing wind headed in their direction.

"Get down!"

The wolves did as told, giving Marshall an opportunity to jump over anyone in his path. He continued running with great speed to keep the others at a reasonable length behind him. A tall tree standing in their way was struck with a single kick. As soon as an impact was made, the giant plant was sent flying to crash into its neighboring brethren. 

Doing so gave a clear view of another tree hurdling right for the pack.

Marshall braced himself by widening his stance. Both hands were brought up in front of him, prepared. A hoarse groan escaped him when his palms made contact with rough bark.

The force of the throw was enough to send him skidding backward. Mounds of dirt built up around the soles of his boots. Smaller roots hidden below the surface ripped apart.

Strong core and leg muscles didn't falter in the slightest.

There was no need to adjust himself because his body was more than capable of dealing with an object he didn't truly deem as heavy.

Once momentum slowed down enough, the tree was grabbed even tighter. Strong fingers clenched and clenched and clenched as much as they could. Both arms were pulled in opposing directions, a loud cracking sound resonating outward.

The tree ripped in two.

One part was thrown back where it came from.

The other was tossed upward before another swift kick sent it flying as well.

A hand was brought up as a nonverbal command for the pack to stay out of it for now.

Golden eyes shut, heightening an already perceptive sense of hearing.

Someone was heard gasping in shock. They made a clumsy attempt at moving out of the way from an oncoming attack. A tall trunk dragged along the dirt, rolling into several others of its kind. More uproots happened, but they were followed by extra trees falling to the ground. A few swear words broke out. Heavy breathing picked up. Uncoordinated feet stomped into the ground. Nails dug into leaking, sticky wood. Soles of thin shoes rubbing along saplings traveled upward.

Golden eyes snapped open.

"You're not getting away from me."

Now fully in predator-mode, Marshall sprinted forward. A high leap catapulted him away from the ground. His nails dug into the surface of a nearby tree. He climbed up without caring if his fingers were dirtied by droplets of weeping sap.

Upon settling on a high branch, more kicks were utilized to send him in a certain direction while staying at his current altitude.

The pack chased after him down below.

Marshall allowed his nose to guide him. The stench of old human blood clinging to the other vampire's person gave away their position no matter how many diversions they tried to make or how many maneuvers they attempted to execute. It was possible they caught wind of the pack and were trying to stay on higher ground since the wolves couldn't get that high. Their aroma was so encompassing, though, that the smell of wet dog completely overshadowed Marshall's.

He was met with shocked, fearful eyes when the other vampire, a blond male, turned around to scope the area.

Marshall pounced. 

The other vampire tried to scurry away faster.

Unfortunately for them, the real targets were the branches being used as an elevated trail.

A specific one was punched with enough force to break it.

Blondie fell from his perch, unable to grab any other trees to keep him from falling.

He landed on the ground with a heavy thud.

Wolves descended onto the man barely a second later.

"Hm...so that leaves two-" A loud scream was followed by a series of brutal cracks. "One vampire left. We should hurry. The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can get the hell out of here."

The pack reformed once all traces of their enemy were reduced to nothing. With Sam leading, everyone made haste to pursue their final enemy.

Marshall found the situation to be rather pathetic for the Cullens.

They hadn't been able to put an end to the rival coven for quite a while now, but the pack was able to dwindle their numbers, killing off a member without issue, in a matter of a few minutes?

Either the Olympic coven had been in the process of facing off with gifted individuals the entire time, or they really lacked the planning and strategic skills to fight as a group. Plus, gifted or not, with Edward available, he should've been able to hear any plans of attack by listening to people's thoughts. There was Jasper's experience in fighting their kind to consider as well—which was a detail that stuck out to Marshall.

His blond coven mate actually was an exceptional fighter.

If he was having difficulty with their battle, maybe, just maybe, their opponents actually were worth their salt.

How thrilling.

Troublesome, yes; but thrilling all the same.

Marshall's gaze darted to the side. He caught wind of their last opponent—a man with black hair, ruby eyes, and bloodstained features from his previous meal—clashing head to head with Carlisle.

The doctor made work of the terrain by rolling and ducking behind a rock, out of the way from an oncoming swipe for his head.

Red Eyes didn't stop, though. They simply set their sights on another member of the family.

His new target being Esme.

Picking up speed again, Marshall ran between the gaps of the surrounding formation to get past them. Another jump propelled him forward, a clenched fist at the ready. 

His knuckles grazed the hard flesh of their enemy, making his flesh crack upon impact.

Red Eyes hopped backward.

"Heh, someone's finally managed to get their hands on me, huh?" A wild, bloody grin extended. "Oh... oh, you're different. I can see it on your face- in your eyes. You're nothing like the people in this coven. You're stronger. Much stronger. Wonderful. A subject worthy of my time. Let's see how long it takes to wear you down so I can make use of you."

Red Eyes appeared where he once was, a fist ready.

Esme was pushed out of the way.

Marshall was hit square in the chest, sending him into a tree and causing the plant to fall.

Cracks ran along his sternum, outward.

"Marshall!"

Paying no mind to the excruciating, nauseating pain, he retaliated with an attack to the abdomen followed by a vicious headbutt. He then proceeded to kick Red Eyes in the jaw and sent them tumbling into a boulder.

Marshall's apparent anger was released in the form of a growl. 

The remaining members of the coven and pack alike stepped into the fight as well.

Other vampires attempted to use their more flexible bodies to get up close. They utilized fierce punches, fast kicks, daring grabs, animalistic swipes, and any other methods of combat they could think of. A few of them used their surroundings too as modes of distraction for bigger attacks.

The wolves, on the other hand, deployed their skills in moving as a unit. When one person pounced, they were immediately backed by another wolf ready to make their own lunge. Emotional responses also made their strikes more ferocious as a way of getting back at the person who hurt their vampire.

But violent gestures coming from all directions were dodged.

Ruby-colored irises glinted in excitement, their point of focus on the only golden-eyed opponent who presumably showed any promising merit in terms of strength.

Red Eyes evaded another swipe before making a wild beeline for Marshall.

He protected himself by catching the arm headed in his direction. His own shot forward to deal a lethal punch.

A firm grip was taken of his wrist, effectively pulling him forward.

Red Eyes sank their teeth into the flesh of Marshall's bicep.

Intense burning spread through his entire body in a matter of seconds.

He yelled out in pain, falling to his knees. Pulling both eyes shut didn't do anything to rid them of a flashing red hue overtaking the entirety of his vision. His head felt like it was throbbing; like it was filled to the brim with jagged nails hammering themselves into his skull. Every single nerve felt alight with sensitivity, his skin prickling at so much stimulation.

Each of his five senses heightened by a dizzying amount.

A hand wrapped around his throat, keeping him in place.

"Marsh-"

"Try to come near, and I'll rip his head from his body."

Rushed footsteps coming in his direction stopped. A body of similar temperature pressed up against his from the front. A smooth cheek rubbing against his shed light on how close they were to each other.

"Don't fight it," Red Eyes' crazed, delighted voice teased. "Let it consume you. You want to fight, right? You want to put an end to your enemies. To anything capable of drawing breath- anything capable of living above ground. You want to kill them all, don't you."

"N-no- no- stop it!"

Rampant thoughts screaming for bloodshed flooded Marshall's mind. Both hands smacked over his ears to dull the bodiless voice.

"You do, though. You have so much rage hidden inside you. So much potential to bring the downfall of humanity. To all creatures who would ever dare to get in your way. And you can do that. All you'd have to do is submit. Listen to my voice. Wholeheartedly believe the things I'm saying. Do that, and your deepest desires can finally come to fruition."

Snarling, Marshall's eyes reopened. 

A bite aimed at his enemy's jugular was dodged.

"What's wrong? Don't like hearing the truth? Don't like having it thrown in your face that the company you're keeping is full of nothing but creatures who can only slow you down? I mean, look here. A rabble of talentless vampires and sniveling werewolves. It'd be so easy for you to get rid of them. To shatter every single member of that coven to bits. To snap the necks of every wolf standing in the way. To bleed them dry."

Marshall hadn't meant to.

He really hadn't.

But the mention of blood made his attention dart toward Paul.

Red Eyes' feral expression became even more deranged. "Oh my- this really is my lucky day, ha ha! The silver one- he's your blood singer, isn't he? Aww, even better."

Marshall's face was grabbed, forcing him to look at his mate's concerned expression.

"I get it now- that's why you're fighting me so hard. You keep telling yourself that you'd never hurt him. That you'd never want to do something so heinous as to kill him. But we both know you're lying to yourself. We both know you want nothing more than to rip into him- have his blood fill your throat. To have his taste prance along the surface of your tongue with each enticing gulp. There's no need to hold it back. It's natural for creatures like us to want a good meal. And you can finally have it. All you need to do is give in. Listen to my will. Obey my commands. Do as I tell you, and kill him."

Images of Paul's blood splattering on every surface around them were forced into Marshall's head.

His mouth felt like sandpaper the longer he denied himself of primal desires.

"Do it. Kill him. Rip him open and make him bleed."

Marshall, driven by uncontrollable rage, growled. 

He tackled Red Eyes.

Their bodies tumbled in a different direction, sliding past trees, shrubs, and other types of thriving forest life.

Surprise morphing into fear was the last feature Marshall saw before darting for his prey.

Their head came clean off with a single bite.

Leaves bellowed in the wind high above. Branches rustled, caressing each other's sharp tips. Any animals residing near the area cleared out when sensing an unrestrained source of danger.

The forest, previously a stage set for carnage, was now as silent as a graveyard.

Edward let out a short chuckle. "Well, can't say I expected you to actually be useful for once. But now that you've done a decent job like you were instructed to do, maybe now you'll come to realize that-"

His confrontational statement was interrupted by a powerful jab to the stomach.

He was sent careening backward into more boulders, shattering them on impact.

Marshall leapt from his spot and landed, crouched down, in between both groups.

Bringing his face into view, everyone was taken aback by the drastic change of his naturally golden eyes now housing a deep, menacing red.

The eyes of a starving, wild beast.

A gaze as sharp as knives glued to a particular silver wolf.

"Marsh..?"

It was difficult to truly hear anyone over raging internal voices. They all screamed, calling out to him like sirens, for him to give in. For the natural barbarity of his vampirism to take over and do what it did best. For him to tear into everything so he could put an end to it all.

To finally receive a feast he'd been aching for since it was now in front of him, waiting to be picked apart on a silver platter just for him.

No- no, stop- he didn't want that. He didn't want to hurt anyone.

Except he really did.

Marshall was constantly urged by his pack to take the things he yearned for.

Who was he to go against their wishes now?

Within the blink of an eye, Marshall went from crouching down on the ground to being half in the air. A hand ready to claw was pushed outward. And it was headed straight for Paul's unsuspecting body.

No contact was made, though, because members of the Cullen family tackled their coven mate away from his pack.

Enraged, Marshall kicked and punched and elbowed in any way he saw fit. There was a tiny sliver of opportunity to escape while other people were forced to retreat for the sake of allowing their wounds to heal. A crazed attempt to maim was foiled again by someone manually grabbing him by his throat to hold him back. It didn't take long for other hands to hold down his arms. Others wrapped around his torso to keep him secure.

Every single hold on Marshall's body struggled to control his frenzied thrashing.

"Sam- go!" Carlisle yelled. "Take the pack- take Paul, and get out of here! Marshall isn't thinking clearly right now! You need to leave before something terrible happens! Please- Marsh would be devastated if he hurt any of you! We can deal with the situation; but as long as you guys stay here, you're all going to be in danger!"

Firm grasps began losing their strength.

"Go! Before it's too late!" 

***

ENDING 1:

Marshall pushed his head backward to hit his father in the face. Arms around his midsection loosened, giving him the chance to turn around. A brutal elbow to the jaw made Rosalie stagger back into Emmett. A well-executed bending of the spine made Esme and Jasper collapse into Alice and Edward.

Marshall ran forward.

He readied himself for a life-ending swipe.

But, of all people, Leah appeared in front of Paul.

She jumped forward, her snout digging into Marshall's abdomen. As a hand grazed the skin of her neck to break it, her jaw unhinged.

A sickening crack was followed by a horrible scream.

Marshall came back to his senses, no longer under someone else's influence.

But he almost wished the bite had killed him—because having a gaping hole in his side, without a way to eliminate the pain, was too inhumane to experience.

It made him claw at the grass beneath him.

"Leah- what the hell were you thinking!" Paul's voice rang out.

"I didn't have a choice! He was going to kill you-"

"And you think the remedy for that is trying to kill him?!"

"I wasn't trying to kill him-"

"Would you guys stop FUCKING ARGUING!" Marshall's gravelly yell was met with tense silence. A hand wove into his hair, clenching at small strands. "Leah- Leah did the right thing. She got me out of whatever insane mind control that vampire forced me under. I get that it wasn't the safest method to use, but what's done is done. Arguing isn't going to solve anything. And it sure as fuck isn't going to make me feel better either."

"Marsh, this is ridiculous!" Rosalie added. "Don't play down your own injury! C'mon, we're going to take you home with us-"

"Like hell you are!"

"Marsh-"

"No one is putting a single fucking hand on me!"

"So, what, do you expect to just lay here until your wounds heal?!"

"Yes! That's exactly what I plan to do!" An unsteady grip tightened further. "None of you understand what this feels like! None of you get what type of pain this is like! I'm not going to fucking let you jostle me around and make it even worse!"

Frantic voices came at him left and right. People attempted to crowd around him to get a better look at how bad the injury actually was. Clashing arguments were accompanied by feisty threats toward differing species. 

Marshall whimpered in overstimulation, unwilling to deal with so much hostility.

"Okay, that's enough!" Paul's authoritative shout made everyone freeze. "All of you, move out of the way and give him some space. Now."

Marshall kept his gaze pointed toward the sky. Scuffling feet were heard moving around him. As were the sounds of heated mumbles losing their intensity when people were jabbed by sharp, reprimanding elbows.

Warmer fingers made contact with his own when gently settling on his head.

"Look at me, honey. Please."

The simple tone of Paul's quiet, kind voice made Marshall tear up.

That same tenderness showed itself in expressive brown eyes as well. 

Delicate passes along his forehead helped to bring minor relief.

"...I do get it. I get that the amount of pain your in is astronomical right now. I get that you don't want to be moved because it's going to make it hurt more. I get that you're scared. No one is expecting you to be fine in a situation like this. If you really want to wait here for a bit, we can. But, at some point, we are going to have to move you. I'm sorry to say, but whether we do it now or later, the pain is still going to be there.

"If you give us- no...if you give me a chance to get you out of here, I promise you, things will be okay. I'll take you home, put you into bed, and we can ride through this shit storm together. I'll take care of you to the best of my capabilities, sweetheart. And I'll be with you to make sure you're back to your normal self again as soon as possible."

Marshall swallowed the tightness building in his throat. "...It hurts. A lot."

"I know, baby. But wouldn't you rather recuperate in a place where you can be comfortable?"

He gave a hesitant nod.

"So let me take you home, and we can start doing things to help you get better, yeah?"

Paul's ability to bring reprieve simply by saying the right things was a dangerous trait to have—because Marshall's worries were nullified without much issue despite his body begging for him to not move.

Sighing, he put his free hand out. He was slowly pulled into a seated position with an arm braced against his back to help support his weight. Another arm hooked behind the back of his knees to scoop his legs up. The injured portion of his body was propped against Paul's chest, protecting any damaged spots from outside elements.

Once he was actually picked up to be carried, Marshall had to shield his face against his mate's body to try and control his agonized whimpers.

"It's okay, love. I've got you. Don't worry. Thank you for trusting me with this. Really- you're doing great. You're so brave." Paul offered a reassuring kiss to the head. "Let's take you home so you can get some rest."

***

ENDING 2:

Paul's fingers drummed against the surface of the dining table. He watched a tiny translucent bead of water as it ran down the length of his glass. A small puddle had already gathered at the bottom and was beginning to soak the corner of a folded napkin.

A plate full of brownies remained untouched.

"...Do you think he's okay?"

"I don't know, Jare. But I hope so."

Paul felt like such a failure—as a shifter and a boyfriend. It was his duty to bring protection to those who needed it. To be there for people who needed to depend on him. Especially when it came to loved ones whose presence in his life was priority number one.

Sam made the right call of getting the pack out when he did. But still.

It felt like they abandoned Marshall.

Paul wanted to do everything in his power to fix what was happening while they were still on the battlefield.

The moment beautiful gold was overshadowed by a cold, unfamiliar red, though, he couldn't move.

He felt like he was being hunted.

The person in front of him wasn't really Marshall. Yet watching his body move with deadly precision and a blatant intent to kill was...a lot.

He must've been so scared to not be in control of himself.

It'd been at least twenty minutes since the group split up. Were things actually okay by now?

"Guys, I think we should-"

Everyone's attention darted toward the front door when hearing a loud thud. It was followed by a sharp inhale which morphed into a long, broken whine.

Paul was out of his seat before even thinking about it.

He opened the front door with full intent on questioning his imprint on what happened—if he was feeling better.

Hopes for conversing were tossed out of the window, however, when seeing Marshall's trembling figure. His left arm was covered in deep cracks above his elbow. The markings continued up into his shirt. They were also seen on a portion of his neck right below his jaw.

Unable to hold himself up alone, Marshall was being aided by...

"Esme?" Paul questioned.

"I'm sorry- I know I'm not supposed to be on your territory, but-" She sniffled, frowning. "He's been injured. Badly. I didn't trust bringing him to my house."

"I don't understand- what happened?"

Grunting, Marshall picked his head up as best as he could. "Edward happened."

Paul froze for a moment. He stopped breathing. A deep, vicious heat began brewing within his core.

But dealing with his vengeful anger would have to wait.

Instead, he focused on running outside to help.

Together with Esme, they led Marshall toward the porch stairs. Combat boots dragged along the ground with each fumbled step. Clenched hands shook in both pain and frustration. His teeth ground against each other to hold back genuine sounds of agony. His head fell forward, shielding his features, when specific movements against his torso became too much to handle.

"Move back- make some room," Sam ordered before bringing his attention to the trio. "What does he need?"

Esme looked up so they could make eye contact. "A med kit if you have it. Marshall's leaking a heavy amount of fluid because of the severity of his injury. Bandaging the wound will help keep his venom where it needs to be for his body to accelerate its natural healing process."

Sam nodded, moving to get the appropriate tools.

Marshall was guided to sit down on the comfortable bench he usually frequented. His right hand immediately took hold of his knee, gripping harshly. His left arm was kept in the air to keep it from moving out of place.

"We're going to have to get your shirt off. Are you able to do it yourself?"

"No."

Paul took hold of the neckline of breathable, partially soaked fabric . A single tug ripped the material in two. Additional pulls worked to open the shirt further until the front separated completely.

The room fell silent.

Eyes widened.

A few people gasped in horror.

Marshall could only clench his jaw as everyone stared at his injury—a menacing series of deep cracks emanating from a large chunk missing from the left side of his rib cage.

Clear liquid continued to fall from the wound, now absorbing into his darkened waistband.

"What...what happened?" Paul asked in disbelief.

"...I lost control. Started legitimately fighting my family members to the point of almost killing several people. Edward thought the only way to get me out of that strange trance-like state was to force me out of it. By any means necessary. So the bastard took a cheap shot while I was distracted and bit me. Things kinda...spiraled into chaos from there. My siblings wanted me to go to the house for treatment, but Esme didn't want anyone around me. She made the decision to see to it that I made it back here safely."

Paul glanced at his mother-in-law. A quick softening of the eyes conveyed a silent thank you in her direction. She offered a forced yet tender smile in return.

Marshall cleared his throat to bring everyone's focus back onto him. "I know that taking care of this isn't going to take long. But I'm already in an excruciating amount of pain. Shifting my weight even slightly is almost unbearable. For the sake of making sure none of my venom continues to leak, Esme is going to have to do my wrappings very tight. It's going to be more than unpleasant, and I'm honestly going to need you guys to hold me down while she does it. This isn't going to be easy for anyone. But I'd rather just get it over with."

"We don't want to make things worse, honey-"

"There's no other way. If we do it fast, I can finally have some time to rest. And I really, really need it right now."

Pursing his lips, Sam turned to look over his shoulder. "You might want to leave the room for this, Emmie."

The woman in question glanced at her injured family member in uncertainty. He gave a slight nudge of the head in the direction of the living room.

Coming to grips with the gravity of the situation, she did as told. 

Multiple sets of hands took hold of Marshall's uninjured body parts.

Paul took the wheel by cupping his lover's face. "If it becomes too much, don't be afraid to lean into me. I'll support you."

Bodily trembles became more intense as Esme took out a fresh roll of gauze. She bent down onto her knees, unfurling the stretchy material. The starting strand was wrapped around Marshall's hips as an anchoring point. A few extra passes wove upward until stopping below his ribs.

Shallow breathing teetered on the edge of morphing into hyperventilation.

"...Sorry about this, honey."

Esme's short statement was the only warning given before bandaging was tightened by a substantial amount.

Marshall couldn't stifle a tortured scream.

*

Paul closed the guest bedroom's door as softly as possible, making sure to not disturb his imprint's sleeping form. Soft, feminine whispers came from the dining room nearby, shedding light on Esme and Emily having a hushed conversation with each other. Miscellaneous items from the med kit scraped against the floor when being put back into a plastic tub. Broken, splintered remains of an unsalvageable bench were taken outside to be thrown out.

All movements stopped when Paul reentered the room.

"...Can't say I expected him to pass out from the pain, but maybe it's for the best." 

"It is," Esme told him. "It'll give him a chance to not worry about it for a little bit. As long as he doesn't move too much, sleeping shouldn't be too difficult. You guys will have to stay on top of changing his bandages every couple of hours for the next few days, though. It should get easier with time; but for now, at least for the rest of today and tomorrow, it'll be difficult to handle. Still, his body will do what it needs to for him to heal. He's alive- that's what matters."

Paul walked forward to give an apologetic hug. "I know, as his mother, that wasn't easy for you to witness. We really do appreciate you bringing him here to help. And for not forcing him back into that house again."

"You guys are the ones who take care of him the best. It would've been wrong to bring him anywhere else."

"Mm. C'mon- I'll see you off. I know you have to get back."

Esme took the hand offered to her. She shared a quick cheek-kiss with Emily before moving toward the front door. Waves were given toward the other pack members, and a grateful handshake was shared with Sam.

Gold and brown peered into each other under the yellow bulb dangling from a dim porchlight.

"Really, Paul, thank you for watching over him. It makes me feel better knowing that he's in your care. Please, if either of you need anything, don't be afraid to reach out."

"I will. I'll make sure to give you updates too, don't worry. When he wakes up, I'll tell him you said bye."

Esme's posture sagged out of relief. She was given one last hug before practically disappearing from her spot.

Paul continued to gaze out at the forest with his hands in his pockets.

Several people walked up behind him, silent.

"...What's your call?" Sam asked.

Paul joined his hands behind his back. "Marshall could've been killed because of his brother's recklessness. I say, whenever the opportunity arises, we...send a little message to Edward. Make him realize he's not as untouchable as he thinks."

No one said anything in return.

Instead, they continued to watch the treeline with the sound of chirping crickets being carried away by the wind.