𝟐𝟔 𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

✯☾✯

𝑹𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏 of Derek's pack was fighting toughly against the full moon's power

The wolf within them, it was tearing them apart from the inside out, forcing them to loose control and do things they didn't want to do.

Isaac hid himself in the corner, having broken free from his chains, locked in a stance of agony.

He watched Derek's attempts to keep Erica and Boyd at bay through a bleary, raging vision.

And, even though he wanted to help his alpha, there was a more dominant part of him that also wanted to rip him to shreds.

His violent screams joined his fellow wolves in a chorus of torment that embedded itself into their brains, controlling all their hearing and echoing around the abandoned train station.

Isaac's grip on the rotting bar was starting to slip. He knew he wasn't going to be able to hold himself back any longer.

Struggling and sweating, he cast his mind back to what Derek had informed him of moments before disaster struck.

An anchor.

An anchor was a grounding technique that would bind the wolves to their human selves.

Isaac had an anchor buried somewhere deep inside his troubled self. It was there, clawing it's way up to the surface. He knew it.

He knew he had something that would bring him back, make him smile, cause his heart to skip multiple beats whenever he was close to it.

It was bubbly and sweet. Something so happy it was almost painful.

Not something. Someone.

Isaac's very own sunshine. His savoir. His anchor.

His head twitched vigorously as he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking everything out and focusing on one thing, one person.

Isaac thought she was beautiful. But not in the way Lydia Martin was or even the new girl Allison Argent was. She was a pretty-sort of beautiful and had a real sense of natural magnificence about her.

He liked her eyes the most, they were almost as blue as his even though the white of her eye had multiple red streaks through it. However, when he looked closely, he could see the depth of colour swimming around her iris. Waves of grey and darker blue blended perfectly with the rest.

He also liked her many freckles that were dotted here and there along her nose and cheeks. They embodied her personality flawlessly.

In Isaac's opinion, the girl in front of him was the most beautiful he'd seen.

Lizzie darted up from her seat and rushed over to Isaac to try to rip his hands from his ears as she recited as many major events from the movie that she could think of. She felt an excited energy wash over as she watched Isaac's horrified face. It was priceless. She wished she could take a picture of this moment and keep it forever.

"Okay, okay I'll stop. I'm stopping." Lizzie held her hands up in surrender and backed away from the boy. He eyed her carefully and slowly took his hands off his ears, ready to clamp them back on at any moment in case she decided to try something.

"That was mean." He pointed at her with a firm frown. Lizzie smiled innocently and tucked the side of her head into the crevice of her shoulder.

"You weren't gonna watch it anyway." Lizzie's eyes formed into adorable doe eyes as she gazed up at the taller boy. Her voice was fortified with an unmistakeable purity.

"I might have."

"No you weren't. You just weren't." She paused for a few seconds and the goodness in her eyes turned to mischief. "Harry was the final hor-"

Isaac cut her off by slapping a cupped hand over her mouth and his other on the back of her head causing Lizzie to squeal and writhe against him. The boy laughed at the squirming girl as she yelled and tried to force his hand off her mouth by shaking her head. After moving around wildly got her nowhere, she stuck her tongue out to meet his palm. Surprised by the sudden wetness on his skin, Isaac jerked his arm away and let go of Lizzie.

"Ew! That's gross!" He held his palm to his chest and wiped it on his shirt.

"Holy shit, they have a chocolate fountain." Her eyes lit with delight when they arrived at the table.

"I've never actually seen one of these in real life." She rhapsodized, jumping up and down on the spot, her skirts rising and falling. Isaac gazed at the excitement she held over a chocolate fountain with adoring eyes.

"Do you think I could just-" She motioned dipping something into the cascading liquid. Isaac shifted his weight and then his hand flew forward to grab a marshmallow, swiping it in the sauce before handing it to Lizzie.

"Thank you very much, kind sir." Lizzie accepted the treat happily and popped it in her mouth.

"Your welcome, milady." Isaac joked, putting on a posh voice that made Lizzie giggle.

The girl reached forward and dipped her finger in the chocolate. She pulled it out and bopped Isaac's nose with it, leaving a dot of chocolate on the tip as she licked the rest of the sweetness off her finger.

Isaac's jaw dropped and he gasped dramatically, he tried to wipe the chocolate off his nose whilst Lizzie laughed when it only smudged further.

"You're making it worse, silly." Lizzie teased, an absent minded smile playing at her lips.

Isaac pouted jokingly. "Help please."

Lizzie obliged, rising up on her toes and licking the pad of her thumb. She carefully dragged it down Isaac's nose and it wiped clean off. As she fell back onto the balls of her feet, she managed to catch his longing stare briefly.

Straining, Isaac pushed further, forcing himself to think of Lizzie. Anything about her; what she smelt like, which was strawberries if anyone asked, her laugh, her smile, what would happen if he couldn't control himself. Could he hurt her? Was there any possible chance he could hurt her if the full moon had it's way?

No. He wasn't going to let that happened.

Somehow, the boy managed to regain recognisable feeling in his limbs and his fogged up mind cleared up just a little. Of course the moon still put him on edge a little as his wolf features stayed put, but, he was able to jump back into a more or less stable mindset.

A crash nearby alerted him, causing him to tense and leap up, instantly darting to aid Derek Hale who was struggling to fend off a manic Erica and Boyd.

✯☾✯

It seemed the taunting hallucinations had paid a visit to most the guests at Lydia's party, including Scott, Stiles and Allison. Each to their own saddening vision surfacing their anxieties.

Stiles let out dramatic gasps as the girl released her grip on the back of his head and he re-emerged from the water.

"How do you feel?" The girl asked slightly loudly so's to be heard over Stiles' splutters.

"Like I might have to revisit my policy on hitting a girl." Stiles replied shakily, rouge droplets of water spilling effortlessly over his pale skin.

"He's sober."

"Lydia," Scott waisted no time. "She dosed the punch or something."

By the time the boys regrouped after an unsuccessful scout for Lydia, the whole party had erupted into chaos and screams.

"I can't find her," Stiles informed Scott as the wolf solemnly surveyed the scene of utter havoc. "And, dude, anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out."

They turned to watch numerous drunken teens dive fully clothed into the Martin's pool.

"I can see that." Scott deadpanned, mouth slightly agape.

"What the hell do we do?"

"I don't know-"

A calamity ceased Scott and Stiles' words. A gathering of boys carried a shrieking and frantic Matt Daehler mercilessly towards the pool.

"No, no, no, no, stop, guys! I can't swim! I can't swim!" Matt shamelessly begged but it was no use as the boy was tossed into the water and left to gargle and thrash around. A cruel joke, but one soon ended.

Jackson was the saviour to pull Matt from his, to the rally of kids, laughable fate.

The party turned silent, aside from the stifled giggles, as the dripping Matt met eyes with Scott and Stiles before he wandered off, leaving a trail of water behind him.

The sound of wailing sirens echoed, drawing nearer and if it couldn't get any worse, the guests of the party surged forwards, battling to get out before the cops arrived.

"Stiles," Scott suddenly stuttered, an almost paternal like sense taking shift. He caught the Stilinski boy's attention and yanked his gaze from the unravelling spectacle.

"Stiles, where's Lizzie?"

Stiles' held up expression fell, his brow creased. "What?"

Scott shook his head, beginning to drag his best friend with the crowd. "Did she drink the punch?"

Running a veiny hand down his face, Stiles winced. "I- I don't know I- oh, shit, yeah, yeah she did."

The boys halted, heads swivelling every other way in search for their best friend who was undoubtedly scared and lost in this pandemonium.

✯☾✯

"Dad, it's not that hard. Just get up and put your fuc-"

"There!"

Stiles' heated phone call with his father was interrupted as Scott yelled out in surprise. Stiles paused, following the finger Scott had thrust out and pointed towards a stumbling figure wandering down the sidewalk.

"Just make sure your up," Stiles slowed his jeep down, pulling in beside the figure. "This is important."

The second he ended the call, the boys flew out the car, catching up with the figure who was further ahead.

At the sound of her name being called multiple time, Lizzie Brown turned, her hands clutched to her arms, hugging herself.

Her cheeks were blotchy and her eyes glossy so, the boys knew she'd been crying. Stiles had been the only one to see Lizzie cry before during Scott's first full moon and it was painful witnessing someone so bubbly and happy look so sad.

Scott and Stiles walked towards Lizzie's trembling frame slowly so they wouldn't scare her. She looked so broken.

"Hey, guys," Her voice was hoarse and cracked. She was shivering, the cold temperature biting at her exposed skin.

Silently, when she tried to put on a smile, the boys both engulfed her in a hug, coddling her between the two of them whilst she tried to hold back her sobs.

None of them knew what sort of vision they had all gone through and they weren't going to ask. They were going to stick together and stand by each other. That's how they were going to get through this supernatural mess. Together. No matter what.

The three of them against the world and good luck to it.

✯☾✯

Lizzie was curled up on one of the armchairs in the Stilinski's home, munching on the Doritos she'd salvaged from the depths of Stiles' messy jeep. Seriously, it was like a landfill sight in there.

The boys had actually suggested they take her home since she was a little shaken up from her vision however, she'd insisted she was fine and all she wanted to do was help.

Noah Stilinski was unimpressed, he'd been awoken from his slumber at one o'clock in the morning, and had been dragged down to sit in a room with three meddling teenagers who were doing their best to convince him Matt Daehler, a grade A, relatively respected student, was the mastermind behind all the recent killings without mentioning the supernatural.

Crunching on her chip loudly, Lizzie flipped everything over in her head. She'd only just been informed that Matt was the kanima master after Scott had seen the lizard and the human together just an hour ago. And, bare in mind, Matt didn't exactly have a secured place in the trio's good books as they'd recently found out he'd been stalking and taking indecent pictures of poor Allison, so, Lizzie was leaning towards deeming him guilty.

"So, this kid's the real killer?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

The Stilinski's stood opposite from one and another, glaring exasperatedly. The thick smog of awkwardness surrounded Scott but left Lizzie alone. She crunched another chip happily, slightly unaware of the true gravity if the situation, as always.

"Dad, come on." Stiles stood from his chair, almost matching his father's height. "Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So, all you have to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common."

Noah uncrossed his arms, his expression set stern. "Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, Kara, wasn't in Harris' class."

Stiles dropped his cause slightly, side eyeing Lizzie was was spinning around in his desk chair. "All right, okay, sorry. Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?"

Another line appeared on Noah's busied forehead as he demonstrated the Stilinski gene of growing irritated quickly. "No, you know what? They're not dropping the charges. But, that doesn't prove anything."

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, straining inflamed aggravation.

"Scott?" Noah cut off his son, seeking the opinion of anyone other than Stiles. "Do you believe this?"

"It's really hard to explain how we know this but, you just gotta trust us." Scott insisted hurriedly, the supernatural timer in his head ticking down faster than needed. "We know it's Matt."

"Yeah, he took Harris' car, okay? Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris' class, that they'd arrest him."" Stiles added, both boys throwing Noah hopeful looks.

The older man still felt doubtful, that was obvious. There was only one person left he hadn't questioned. And, to put it simply, all he needed was her conformation to be completely swayed.

"Lizzie? What do you think?"

Lizzie frantically reached out to grasp onto the edge of Stiles' desk to halt her spinning, her eyes darted all over the place, dizziness hitting her tremendously as she slowed to a stop.

"What?"

"Matt?" Noah rubbed his chin rather maturely. "Do you believe he's behind all this?"

Lizzie took a second to gather herself together or else she would've thrown up the chips she just ate all over the man she respected greatly.

"Yeah, yeah, I do. Stiles is right. He always is," Lizzie paused when Noah shook his head in disbelief at her comment.

"Seriously! It's creepy. It's like he knows everything. Even before it happens. And, besides, Scott literally saw him with the bastard lizar-"

"Okay! That's enough of that. Dad?" Stiles cut the babbling girl off by clamping his hand over her mouth, one which Lizzie placed her own hands over, extremely disappointed in herself and in hopes of keeping in all the secrets she'd unwillingly taken in.

Noah sighed, thankfully not really paying mind to what Lizzie had almost let slip. "Alright, fine. I'll allow the remote possibility but, give me a motive. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?"

"Mermaid hunter!" Lizzie practically yelled and Stiles cursed himself for removing his hand too quickly. However, it was a problem soon solved as Lizzie flailed for his hand, grabbing it placing it back in it's previous position.

"Isn't it obvious?" Stiles used his free hand and threw it up in the air, exclaiming. "Our swim team sucks. They haven't won in, like, six years. Okay, we don't have a motive yet. I mean, come on, does Harris?"

Noah shook his head regretfully. He had nothing left to say. No excuses. No counters. No nothing. He finally gave in.

"What do you want me to do?"

"We need to look at the evidence." Scott suggested, leaning forward, processing everything as fast as he could in his head.

"Yeah, that would be in the station." Noah dished out a pointed look aimed at Stiles. "Where I no longer work."

Well, that was news to Lizzie. She mumbled something incoherently against the skin of Stiles is palm. It was supposed to be sorrowful and comforting yet it came out as a jumble of gargles. Noah smiled at the pixie, enlightening her that he understood.

"Trust me, they'll let you in." Stiles reassured, desperate and jittery.

"Trust you?" Noah's final tether was wearing.

Stiles was rendered speechless, needing to come up with one final solution that would secure his father's place. "Trust- trust Scott?"

The face of Noah Stilinski relaxed ever so slightly but the barriers were still up. His accusing finger re-directed from Stiles, down to the doe eyed girl sat in his son's chair.

"The only one of you I trust is her."

The boys shrugged, looking down at Lizzie also. Said girl grinned, although Stiles' hand covered it, and lifted her shoulders, sitting up right. She waved in what was supposed to be encouraging way but came across shy.

It was scary. Everywhere the trio went, everyone they encountered, Lizzie seemed to weaken them and yank out their soft sides with her feeble hands.

The drive to the station was only really painful for Noah as Stiles and Scott were uncomfortably used to each and every Taylor Swift song Lizzie demanded as politely as she could.

After meeting with the unimpressed receptionist in the station who reminded the group that it was very late at night, they crowded into Noah's old office, surrounding the computer screen which contained security footage from the hospital.

They were to start with the only murder not performed by Jackson but by Matt himself. The poor pregnant woman had been killed in the solace of her hospital room, mid grievance over her husband.

"I don't know, guys. I mean, look at this." Noah squinted at the screen. The same scene of doctors and patients going about the day had been playing for at least twenty minutes now.

"There was a six-car pileup that night, the hospital was jammed."

"All right, just keep going. Look, he had to pass one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica, okay? He's gotta be on the footage somewhere." Stiles insisted, unwilling to give up just yet, despite how much his eyes were watering at the lack of change in what he was seeing.

"Oh, hold on!" Scott jumped up, startling a tired Lizzie who was kneeled next to the chair Noah was sat on, her chin resting on the desk. "Stop. Did you see that? Scroll back."

The footage reversed, Scott's discovery becoming clear. The back of a boy, easily recognisable as Matt, could be seen stalking down the hallway beside an elderly man.

"All I see is the back of someone's head." Noah practically scoffed.

"Matt's head, yeah. I sit behind him in history. He's got a very distinct cranium, it's weird."

"He's right," Lizzie agreed. "I was in the lunch que behind him one time. Dude eats a lot of apples."

"Are you crazy?" Noah spoke harshly, better directed at Stiles rather than the sweet girl he ranked higher than the insolent teen boys.

"All right, fine, then," Stiles pointed back at the screen, squeezing out as much evidence from the limited information they were given. "How many people do you know who wear black leather jackets- if you say Isaac, I'll kill you dead."

A string of grumpy mumbles escaped Lizzie's gaped mouth and she shrunk back.

"Millions of people where leather jackets, Stiles, literally millions." Noah deadpanned.

"Okay," Scott jumped in to prevent them from slipping any further off track than they already were. "Can you scroll forward? There's gotta of him coming at one of the cameras."

Noah did as he asked but unfortunate for them and their credibility, they had little to no luck. It seemed Matt was smarter than they thought, positioning himself in the right places and basically marking himself as anonymous.

"Right there, see? There he is again."

"You mean there's the back of his head again."

Stiles threw his had back at the exhausting rally they had going. "Okay, but look. He's talking to someone."

The group leaned forward, gathering closer around the screen to view it themselves. Matt stood with his back towards the camera, a kind looking woman approached. Hispanic, curly dark hair, gorgeous.

Scott automatically tensed, the situation stepping into a concerning proximity. "He's talking to my mom."

Under the Stilinski men's piloted ask, Scott rung up his mom, her tired voice filling the office.

"Scott, you know how many people I deal with in a day?"

Scott glanced around him for help and he received none. "This one's sixteen. He's got dark hair, looks like a normal teenager."

Feeling the need to add more clarification to Scott's very, very detailed description, Stiles piped up.

"Yeah, he looks evil."

"Scott, I already talked to the police about this." Melissa McCall explained.

"Okay, Mom, I'm gonna take a picture and send it to you."

Scott quickly hovered his phone over a low quality yearbook photo they'd acquired of Matt, the shutter sound clicking.

There was a few seconds of anticipating silence as Melissa looked over the picture she'd been sent, and, then,

"I remember I stopped him because he was tracking mud in the hall," The woman recalled after she was pushed for an answer by her impatient son. "Scott, what's going on?"

The crucial aspect of evidence Melissa had delivered allowed Noah, Stiles, Lizzie and Scott to nod their heads and exchange connecting glances.

"It's nothing, Mom. I'll explain later I gotta go."

The phone was hung up on Melissa just as Noah pulled out a file, a brewing epiphany accumulating inside him. "We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer sight, the trailer, the hospital, and the rave."

"And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders." Stiles realized. Lizzie sat of straighter, helping clear space on the desk to display the file. She was extremely well educated with pop-culture, less in schooling, more specifically, crime TV shows and documentaries. So, she liked to think herself to be a decent detective.

"Actually, four," She spotted, reading from one of the documents sprawled out on the desk. "A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."

"When?" Stiles leaned over her shoulder, he too scanning the important words.

"A couple hours before you got there, Sti." Lizzie handed the sheet to him. All four of them were stood up now, waiting. Waiting for that conformation.

"All right, Dad, if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what's four?" Stiles rambled out, the teens staring at the adult wide eyed.

"Four is enough for a warrant."

Stiles grinned, punching the air in what seemed like slow-motion.

Noah began to throw out orders like the trio was his own special task force. "Scott, call your mom back, see how quick she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Stiles, go to the front desk. Tell them let Scott's mom in when she gets here."

"On it," Stiles jumped forward and dashed out the room.

"Lizzie, I want you to go through the case files in the backroom that recorded the murders and see if you can find any evidence that could now link us to Matt."

"Yes, Sir," Lizzie nodded, following Stiles out of the room, a foreboding twinge fidgeting in her stomach.

Almost crashing into Stiles, Lizzie and the boy shared a particularly excited high five before Lizzie turned on her heel and ran down the opposite way to him towards the storage room.

The lighting inside the unfamiliar room was darker than Noah's office. One lamp flickered wispy shadows through the shelves, but, she still squinted.

The air was thick with the musty smell of old paper, and the sound of rustling files echoed off the walls.

Row upon row of tall, looming shelves stretched out menacingly before her, each one packed tight with dusty cardboard boxes and file folders. It was a labyrinth of information, a maze of secrets and hidden truths waiting to be solved.

The shelves themselves were old and worn, their wood creaking with every step. The files were organized in a haphazard fashion, some stacked neatly in boxes while others overflowed onto the floor.

As Lizzie made her way deeper into the room, tiptoeing lightly, the shelves seemed to close in around her, their shadows growing darker and more ominous. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of paper or the whispers of the gruesome, violent cases hidden between the sheets and ink.

But even in the darkness, Lizzie could sense the weight of the enigmatic cases that the room held. The files dived to the depths of people's stories and tragic events, exploring their psychological aspects, their sadistic reasoning. And somewhere within those dusty boxes and folders, we're numerous cases Lizzie was looking for.

The boxes were labelled and ordered alphabetically and Lizzie recalled that if she used that logic, the one to start with would be Jessica Bartlett, pregnant and calamitously the victim and only victim of Matt instead of the kanima.

As she pulled out the box and began to flick through the plethora of thin files, her brow furrowed in concentration. She could feel the weight of the responsibility on her shoulders, the knowledge that the information she held in her hands could help end Matt's fiendish reign of terror.

But she didn't let that pressure overwhelm her. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, methodically working her way through each file, carefully noting any details that could be important.

Lizzie's brushed over a particular file that diverted her attention from her ordered priority. A name she recognised was printed in splotchy blue ink over the binding of a file considerably thicker than the others.

Amelia Brown

That name. The name so dear to her heart, so precious in her family, triggered an uneasy apprehension to slink through her.

Why would her mother have police report filed on her?

A commanding shout echoed through the precinct, snapping Lizzie out of the heart racing trance she found herself in. Out of sheer panic, Lizzie stuffed her mother's file back into the box and returned it to its original place.

Her legs carried her out of the room and back down the narrow corridor. And, now, everything was silent, a complete contrast to the commotion Lizzie had heard before.

The girl let out the anxious breath trapped in her throat when Noah Stilinski shuffled out of his office and stood directly in front of her.

"Oh, sorry, I thought-"

She stopped. Still, something wasn't right. The man was paralysed to the spot, the fear on his face holding him in a tightened grip. Lizzie took two small steps backwards.

"Mr Stilinski, what's wrong?"

"Yeah, Mr Stilinski," A patronising voice filtered down the hall as someone stepped into a view, a gun in hand. "What is wrong"

Matt Daehler locked eyes with Lizzie, his yellowed teeth flashing at her.

Fear became a tangible, living force that took to controlling the girl, the sudden shock making her muscles tense.

✯☾✯

The abandoned railway was a fascinating place. Usually, it was to be imagined as a manic scene, bustling with people stressing and constantly checking the time.

Yet, it was now silent, an empty shell of it's former self. The paint was peeling if not already in shreds on the floor, the windows were smashed in and the track was overgrown with displeasing weeds.

It was eerie and unsettling, but, Isaac had tried to make as homely as he could. He'd stuck pictures up on the carriage Derek had chosen for him and tried to incorporate warmer lighting.

It was a shame that even though he had put an effort into the 'décor', nothing felt right. Nothing felt like home.

But, then again, he couldn't really remember when he last had a proper home to base it off.

The term home, he believed, was associated with feeling comfortable, safe and loved.

Thinking about it, home, for him, was no place but, a person. All because when he was with Lizzie Brown, it was the only time he felt those things.

Whenever the broken boy thought of her, which was the majority of the time, it unlocked warmth, desire, that fluttery sensation in his stomach.

She just made him feel happy. She made him experience happiness like he never had before. And it was powerful and reckless, desperate and soft. It was, to categorise all these adjectives into one, love.

But, all these strong emotions inside of him couldn't be acted upon. Due to the fact that forced him into a state of guilt, he made the stupid decision that drew a line between the two teens.

The banging of the door opening startled Isaac and he only just caught himself before he fell from the cheap deckchair he was laying in.

Derek Hale exited the carriage, clearly on a mission, as he had just entered it not five ministers earlier.

"Where are you going?" Isaac inquired, stumbling over his own feet, hopefully unnoticeably, in an attempt to follow the man who was storming through the train station.

"To saves Scott's ass, again." Derek practically growled as he stomped around.

"Can I ask why?" Persisting, Isaac caught up with his alpha and, struggling, he fell into step.

"The vet- the vet said the Argent's are planning something. They're in danger." Derek half-heartedly explained. All his energy was focused on controlling his anger, or pent up sexual frustration- that Isaac couldn't tell.

"They?" The beta picked up one word.

"Yes. They. Scott, Lizzie, Stiles and his father. They!" Derek huffed out through his nostrils dramatically.

"I'm coming with you." Isaac spoke coolly.

Derek stopped his temper tantrum, turning to glare at the teen boy. "I don't think so."

"Don't care what you think." Isaac had already yanked up his jacket from the wilting sofa.

"Isaac-"

"Listen, if you didn't want me to come, you shouldn't have mentioned Lizzie. Now, let's go."

Charging past an astounded Derek, Isaac poked his tongue to the side of his cheek, jaw set and eyes dark.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
long time no see, guys well-
im so sorry for the lack of updates I've been really busy with school but, this chapter is longer (somewhat) so I hope that makes up for a bit of it.
lizzaac are so close to being together. so close!
on my TikTok i promised you all a lizzaac kiss and you just have to wait two more chapters, if not less.
i acc really like this chapter
here is a meme I made bc I was bored:

thank you for reading <333