The Weretiger {Isaac Lahey} #2

S2: Shape Shifted

Winter POV

I walk down the sidewalk towards Derek's new hideout, flipping the hood of my coat up.

Stiles had been passed out on his bed, drooling, so it was pretty easy to sneak out.

I pass the Camaro, hidden under a sheet, patting its hood.

The door's unlocked so I slip through and down the stairs.

"I'm home!" I call cheerfully.

A muttered 'Oh God' comes from a car.

I toss my hood back, rain dripping off my clothes. "I need answers."

"To what?" Derek asks, stepping into the light.

"After you, uh, beat Peter, my eyes started to get red in them."

"And?"

"Well, now one of my eyes is red. So, I'm guessing you bit someone, giving yourself more power, which gave me more of the Alpha stuff." I pause, taking a deep breath.

Derek stays silent, folding his arms.

"Who did you bite?" I ask, squinting.

He huffs, looking away. "None of your business."

I put my hands on my hips. "Well, Mr. Sourwolf, it is my business. A, you're my brother. B, I'm part of your pack whether you, Scott, and Stiles like it or not. So, who did you bite?"

He grumbles something under his breath, looking at me again.

"You sure you wanna know?"

I nod.

"Isaac Lahey."

My heart jumps and I blink, tilting my head. "Isaac? Why?"

He starts to reply until he's cut off by someone running down the stairs, calling for him.

I watch Isaac skid to a stop, looking very panicked.

"What's wrong?" Derek asks.

Isaac glances at me and I wave my hand. "Go ahead."

He looks away. "My dad. I think he's dead."

I cover my mouth with a hand.

"What did you do?" Derek asks, stepping ahead.

"That's the thing. It wasn't me."

I exchange a look with Derek, frowning.

○●○

I jog to catch up with Lydia and Allison, huffing.

Oh, right. They found her two nights ago and she's completely fine.

"You really don't remember anything?" Allison asks her.

"They called it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying 'we have no idea why you can't remember running through the woods naked for two days.' But personally, I don't care." Lydia stops at the doors and turns to us. "I lost nine pounds."

I smirk, shaking my head.

"Are you ready for this?" Allison asks.

"Please. It's not like my aunt's a serial killer or that my leg was shredded to pieces."

Allison and I blink at eachother, following her in.

Everyone in the hall stops, staring.

"Deja vu," I mutter.

Lydia looks down at the floor.

"Maybe it's the nine pounds," Allison suggests.

She accepts that, flipping her hair and striding through the crowd.