A day had passed since I found out the Argents were the hunters. Since the war between werewolves and hunter began. A day that I spent couped up in my room, claiming to be sick, while I read as much of the book as I could. I needed to learn more spells. I needed more guidance on how to handle this situation. I needed more information on what to do.

So I read.

The entire day I had my head buried in the book, practising spells and gathering as much intel of werewolves as possible. I needed to be prepared, and since I felt anything but, I used all the time I had to try to be.

I wasn't sure what side to choose, but then I remembered Kate. She must have been a hunter, and if the woman who raised me was a hunter, whose family took me in when she died were hunters, surely I should choose that side, right?

When I'd taken a short break from reading to feed myself, I'd checked my phone and found a text from Isaac, asking if I was alright. It had made me smile, despite the anxiety I felt about the upcoming war. I'd texted him back, and had a short conversation with him on the phone before I was back to reading for the rest of the day.

I remembered that Isaac said his lacrosse practise was on today though, and I'd promised I'd go so I'd left the book at home and got to school early to see it. I made my way to the field, a place I was surprised to find I hadn't been to since moving here, and went to find a seat on the stands.

As I did so, I passed by Scott and Stiles and just so happened to overhear some of their conversation. It wasn't my fault they were talking so loud; I couldn't help it.

"Derek said the war started and that the best chance of winning is to find the witch," Scott relayed to Stiles.

I instantly felt uncomfortable, wondering if they knew the witch was me. They couldn't, right? I hadn't told anyone, and the book hadn't mentioned anything about werewolves being able to sense if I was a witch or not.

"The witch?" Stiles repeated.

Scott sighed. "Yes.

"As in the legend of the magical witch that will help us win the war?"

"Yes."

"As in the witch we don't even know the identity of?"

"Yes, Stiles." Scott said. "That's the one. Derek said she might go to this school-"

I hurried away before they finished, feeling nervous. They knew about me. They wanted to find me so I could help them win the war, even though I was already leaning towards the hunters. How could I let them get hurt though? They were just teenagers.

I sighed and pushed all witch related things out of my mind, moving forward to meet Isaac who had spotted me in the stands.

"Y/n, hey," he greeted, wearing the Beacon Hills Lacrosse uniform. I couldn't help but admire him for a second. "You feeling okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, much better."

I looked at Isaac and noticed many things at the same time. His bruise was gone. He looked tired, with bags under his eyes. He seemed down, his mood low.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm happy you're here."

I wasn't convinced he was fine, but I smiled anyway. "Me too."

I went to the stands and watched as the lacrosse team members started gathering on the field. I looked away to spot Stiles staring at me. He mouthed 'talk later' and I looked elsewhere, feeling guilty. I didn't want to talk later, because he was on the side I was against, yet I wasn't sure how I was going to avoid him.

I watched as the team members got ready, organising themselves in a single file line facing the net. Scott, the assigned goalie for that day, stood in front of it and raised his lacrosse stick in preparation. I watched as the first person started running, only for Scott to leave his post and run head first into his team member, both of them crashing to the ground.

I watched in strange fascination as Scott helped the other player up and then sniffed them. It was bizarre. I knew it had something to do with him being a werewolf, because why else would he be sniffing people, but I couldn't figure out why.

I watched as he did the same thing with every other team member lining up, slamming each one to the ground so he'd be able to get a whiff of their scent. He didn't seem to care about Coach yelling at him or the stares he was getting from other team members. All he seemed intent on was smelling every player, yet the reason behind his actions were beyond me.

Finally, it was Isaac's turn. I felt my stomach turn, because I didn't want Isaac getting hurt by Scott, a werewolf. I watched as Isaac took heaving breaths, staring at Scott through his helmet. Scott tilted his head slightly, as if intrigued, and Isaac caught the ball Coach through at him, staring at his stick for a moment before back at Isaac.

Then he was off.

He ran just as Scott surged forward, both of them heading straight towards one another. I winced at the oncoming collision, hoping Scott didn't hurt Isaac, when they both lunged at each other, grabbing onto whatever limb they could find on the other and forcing them into a mid-air spin. It was one of the oddest, yet coolest, things I'd ever seen.

Their lacrosse sticks lay discarded on the grass a bit away as the two boys gasped, on their hands and knees as they stared at one another. I leaned forward, curious to see why Scott seemed so shocked, but my attention was taken by the police officers that started walking across the field.

They took Isaac aside before I could ask what was happening, and I stared helplessly as they talked in hushed whispers a while away from everyone else. I didn't know what they were saying, because I didn't have super hearing, but as my gaze travelled the field I remembered someone who did.

I snuck up behind Scott, hoping he was too busy focusing on Isaac to pay much attention to my footsteps. Stiles was oblivious, clinging onto Scott as he demanded Scott relay to him what the officers were saying.

"His fathers dead," Scott said. "They think he was murdered."

I recoiled back, shocked as I stared at Isaac. His father was dead? Was he just finding this out now? I stared at Isaac from across the field, trying to gauge his reaction. He didn't seem shocked or surprised which meant he must have known, right? So why hadn't he told me? I remembered noticing he was off today, more subdued than usual. Had it been because his father had died?

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles asked.

I balked at Stiles' question. I hadn't even thought of that. Did they really think that Isaac might have killed his father? The very idea was preposterous, and I couldn't believe they were entertaining it. The Sheriff started leading Isaac off the field and I longed to go after them, to find out if Isaac was okay, but I wanted to know all the facts first, which meant I had to stay here, listening in on Stiles and Scott's conversation.

"I'm not sure, why?" Scott asked.

Stiles didn't take his eyes off Isaac as he answered. "Because they can lock him in a holding cell for 24 hours."

Scott took a minute to process his words, tearing his gaze away from Isaac to glance at Stiles. "Like, overnight?"

Stiles sighed. "During the full moon."

I frowned. What did that have to do with Isaac?

"How good are these holding cells at holding people?" Scott asked.

Stiles turned to Scott "People? Good. Werewolves? Probably not that good."

I stiffened. They weren't suggesting that Isaac was a werewolf, were they? Because he couldn't be. He wasn't the werewolf type. He was nice and kind, and not blood thirsty or savage.

"Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?" Scott asked.

Stiles answered him, though his voice sounded distant and hazy. "Yeah?"

Scott stared at Isaac's disappearing figure. "He does."

There was static in my brain. Isaac was a werewolf. Isaac, the only friend I'd made here, the boy I'd started falling for, the only nice guy I knew, was a werewolf. The guy I liked was a werewolf, meaning he was on the opposite side of the war than me.

Great.

"Isaac's a werewolf?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Both boys spun around to look at me, surprise on their faces. Scott grappled for something to say, looking terrified, while Stiles' eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at me.

"What?" Scott spluttered. "No, definitely not. Why would Isaac be a werewolf-"

"Scott, she's the girl I was telling you about," Stiles interrupted.

Scott looked at me to Stiles, mouth agape. "You didn't mention she was Allison's cousin!"

Stiles shrugged. "Didn't I?" at Scott's dirty look he continued. "Anyway, this is the girl who knew you were a werewolf and stuff."

"Oh."

I scowled at them. "Why is Isaac a werewolf? When did he become one? How?"

"Calm down and we'll answer," Stiles said, mockingly putting his hands up in defence. I glared at him but bit my tongue, waiting for him to explain. "Isaac got turned into a werewolf recently, by Derek, the current Alpha, who bit him, because he's trying to form a pack."

I looked to Scott. "Are you in the pack?"

He shook his head slightly. "No."

"Why don't you answer some of our questions now?" Stiles asked. "We've given you plenty of answers."

I crossed my arms but relented. "Fine."

"Are you a hunter?" Stiles asked. "Are you trying to kill Isaac?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "Isaac is my friend. I'm just worried about him. Also, Kate never told me anything about this; I mean she told me bedtime stories about it but gave no indication that any of them were real. I figured it all out on my own."

The boys looked to each other, talking with their eyes and I glowered, annoyed. Isaac was being shipped off to the Sheriff's station because he was a suspect in his father's death and these boys wanted to waste my time asking me stupid questions.

"I'm going to class," I stated, turning around and walking off the field, ignoring their pleas for me to stay.

I understood they wanted more information, but at the moment I was not in the place to give it. I was too worried about Isaac, and I needed to find a way to see him before he left, to talk to him about his father and how he was a werewolf. I felt sick to my stomach at the thought. Isaac was a werewolf. I was against him. Only if you choose to be, some part of my brain said. I pushed the thought away. How could I turn my back on the people who took me in for a boy I'd met mere days ago?

I was walking through the hallway, trying to come up with some sort of plan, when Allison intercepted me. "Y/n, I was looking for you. I want to introduce you to my friend, Lydia."

I really didn't want to waste any time with silly introductions when Isaac was currently being investigated by the police for murder, but I knew this meant a lot to Allison so I conceded, letting her guide me to the lockers where a girl with strawberry blonde hair stood, twirling a strand of said hair through her fingers.

She looked beautiful, with her strawberry blonde hair in curls cascading down her back, and her brown eyes glittering in the light, revealing specks of gold scattered throughout them. She had pink lips and rosy cheeks, looking intimidatingly gorgeous.

She smiled when she spotted me though, giving me a wave and calming my nerves. Maybe she wasn't the scary mean girl she looked to be.

"You must be Y/n," she greeted, holding out her hand. "I'm Lydia."

I shook it, giving her a smile. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Lydia let out a humourless chuckle. "In this school? I'll bet."

We continued talking as the three of us walked to class. I couldn't very well escape them and so was swept away and into the classroom. The teacher was talking to us about something but I couldn't concentrate, my leg bouncing as I thought of how to escape class.

It turned out someone did that for me when a police officer entered the room and asked for me. I stood up, feeling nervous as I was led out of the room and told to sit down outside the principal's office while the Sheriff finished speaking to another witness.

I waited for the Sheriff to finish, feeling anxious, when Scott and Stiles scrambled into the two chairs next to me. I stared at them incredulously as they stared back at me, equally sceptical.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asked me.

"I'm supposed to answer some questions or something," I answered. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles grinned. "Eavesdropping."

I grinned back and waited in tense silence as Scott focused on what was being said inside the room, a distant expression on his face. Eventually, when I couldn't take the silence anymore, I leaned over to Scott.

"What are they saying?"

Scott shot me a worried glance. "Jackson knew Mr Lahey beat Isaac but he didn't say anything."

I felt my stomach drop. Isaac was abused? I'd had my suspicions, but the reality of it didn't hit me until now. Isaac's dad had beat him. I looked back on all those moments I'd shared with Isaac when he'd seemed terrified of his father. I'd brushed them off, convincing myself everything was fine when it wasn't. That was why he'd lied about his bruise; because his father had given it to him. He'd given it to him because of me. He was at my house, not studying, and Mr Lahey had found out and punished Isaac for it. I felt sick.

And angry.

My face burned as I gritted my teeth at his words. How could Jackson do that? How could he know that Isaac was getting abused and not say anything? I was overwhelmed with anger, an anger so strong I gripped the edge of my chair until my knuckles turned white in an attempt to control it. There was this deep hatred writhing around inside me, begging to be let out, to wreak havoc and pain on Jackson who had intentionally said nothing of Isaac's abuse. It felt like I was drowning in it, this all-consuming rage that fought for release. I was struggling not to just let go and have it devour me.

The lights above me flickered, threatening to burst, and my eyes darted to Stiles and Scott nervously. They didn't seem to notice, so I took great, heaving breaths to calm down, closing my eyes and getting a grip on my anger. I'd learnt to do it with Kate, when my emotions got the better of me, so it wasn't too hard to do now.

I was still angry, devastatingly so, but I'd managed to get it under control enough so that I wouldn't scratch Jackson's eyes out when I saw him. That statement was put to the test when the Sheriff walked out, Jackson trailing behind him with a bored expression on his face.

Stiles haphazardly picked up a magazine to cover his face and Scott gave the Sheriff a sheepish smile. I glared at Jackson with all my might, willing myself not to set him on fire or have a piano fall onto him. Could I even do that? If Jackson was in my presence for much longer, we'd find out.

The Sheriff sighed, looking at the two boys as Jackson walked away, apparently dismissed. The Sherrif looked to me and gave me a smile, gesturing for me to enter the office. I did so with a scowl on my face, angry at anyone who believed that Isaac may have murdered his father.

When the Sheriff entered, he closed the door and gave me another smile. "Hello Y/n. My name's Noah Stilinski. I'm the Sheriff here at Beacon Hills, and I have a few questions to ask you. It's stated here that you have been seen most with Isaac Lahey these past few days, and that you are considered friends. Is that true?" I nodded and he continued. "Can you tell me a bit about him?"

"Isaac didn't murder his father."

Noah raised his eyebrows at my response but didn't comment on it, instead asking another question. "When was the last time you saw him prior to today?"

"Isaac didn't murder his father."

The Sheriff gave me a look. "Are you gonna say that for every question I ask?"

My lips twitched upwards. "Isaac didn't murder his father."

Noah heaved a sigh, laying down his notepad. "I admire your loyalty."

"It's not loyalty, it's the truth," I shot back, seeming to amuse him. I wanted to be angry, but I knew he was the only person who'd let me see Isaac. "Can I please see Isaac now? Just for a bit, to make sure he's alright? I mean, his father is dead. He deserves some emotional support, don't you think?"

Noah stared at me for a long minute, long enough for me to start fearing that he'd deny me when once again he sighed. "He's in the police car outside. You've got 5 minutes, but then we're leaving."

I didn't even stay long enough to thank him, rushing out of the door as soon as I got my answer. I ran down the hallway, my feet thudding on the tiled floor as I sprinted as fast as I could to the school's exit. When I arrived, I scanned the carpark for a police car, panting and out of breath.

I spotted it near the steps and took them three at a time, practically jumping down in my haste to get to him. I only had a few short minutes, so I wanted to make them last. As soon as I got to the car a police officer got in my way, barring my way inside the car.

"The Sheriff said I could see him," I said breathlessly, still trying to recover from my sprint here.

The police officer didn't look convinced until Noah shouted out behind me, "it's okay, she can see him."

I turned around and flashed Noah a smile before slipping past the officer and into the car, though the officer insisted I go in the front. I turned around and looked at Isaac through the bars in the middle of the car, the boy looking startled to see me.

"I didn't do it-" he started to say desperately, eyes pleading for me to understand.

I cut him off. "I know."

Relief passed across Isaac's features, and as I looked at him, I couldn't fathom hurting him for any reason. It seemed ludicrous to ever lay a hand on him in any way that would harm him.

"I also know that you're a werewolf."

Panic flitted across Isaac's face before it was replaced with a sombre acceptance as he looked down at his hands "I suppose that means you hate me now, what with who your family is and all."

"I don't hate you," I said. "The Argents aren't my family."

Isaac looked up, hope written plainly across his face as he opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Noah, who opened the door and gestured for me to get out.

"Time's up kid."

I looked back at Isaac. "Bye."

He gave me a sad smile. "Bye."

I reluctantly got out of the car and walked back up the stairs as Noah and the other officer got into the car and started it. Isaac looked at me through the boot screen, giving me one last tight smile before the car started driving away.

The doors behind me burst open and Scott ran out just as the car turned the corner, disappearing from view. We both stared at where we'd seen the car last before turning to look at each other in the eye.

I stared at him pleadingly. "We have to help him."