𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫, m. tate & i. lahey

𝟎𝟎𝟐. car problems

After a moment, the jeep stops shifting, and Stiles hits the breaks. Isaac, who is not wearing his seatbelt, involuntarily launches forward and into the back of the passenger's seat. He groans as the vehicle bounces back into place and the tires screech softly.

"And that is why we do safety first." Lydia remarks, giving him an insincere smile afterwards. She unbuckles her own seatbelt and climbs over Malia, hopping out of the car to follow Scott and Stiles, who have already gotten out.

Malia watches Isaac massage his forehead for a moment before copying Lydia's actions and exiting the jeep. When she steps foot on to the sand-covered ground, she squints her eyes and looks to the left to see Allison and Kira getting out of their car as well. They march over to the rest of their friends and stand beside the blue vehicle, bewildered expressions on their faces.

Braeden whirls around on her motorcycle and circles back to the teenagers, coming to a stop about ten feet away from them. She takes off her helmet and places it on the handlebars, stalking over to the group. "What happened?"

"I don't know, it felt like we hit something." Stiles tells her.

Allison nods, "Same here."

"Scott, we need to get there by night. It's too dangerous otherwise." The mercenary says, slightly shaking her head.

Scott pauses and inhales, unsure of what step to take next. Stiles glances between him and Braeden before waving his hand, signaling for them to go. Braeden doesn't hesitate to walk back to her motorcycle, preparing the engine.

But Scott disagrees. "Not without you."

"Dude, someone needs to find Derek. We'll figure something out. We always do. Just go."
The dark-haired boy replies, stepping forward for extra reassurance.

The Alpha hesitates before exhaling and making his way to Braeden, but Kira calls out to him, and he stops in his tracks. Malia hears her ramble about him being careful, and how she's going to think of something better to say once he's gone.

Malia glances to the side, and a certain werewolf watches them from her car, looking disappointed, even almost jealous. The werecoyote forms her lips into a line before turning her attention back to the jeep.

Isaac reluctantly approaches the brunette, seemingly asking her a question. She nods in response. They go to the trunk of her car and bring out a toolbox. Allison passes a screwdriver and an impact wrench to Stiles. He takes it and pops the hood.

Malia circles around the jeep, looking for any dents or marks, only to find nothing. When she reaches the front again, Malia crouches down next to the right side and searches. Seconds later, she spots something — it appears to be a large claw, about five to seven inches — lodged in the machinery. She extends her arm and tries to pry it out.

"Stiles," Malia grunts as the claw comes free and plops into her hand. "I don't think we hit something," she straightens herself and holds it out for him to see, "I think something hit us."

Stiles takes it from her and stares at it, an unreadable look filling his eyes. Malia averts her gaze to the other two werewolves, who are still examining the engine. Malia uncrosses her arms and makes her way over to the car.

"Malia? What is it?" Isaac pauses, placing the wrench on the toolbox as he and Allison watch her. Malia shows her index finger, telling him to give her a minute. She inspects the tires, spotting two sharp objects protruding from one of the back tires. Malia rips them out with ease. Then, she raises the claws for them to see.

Isaac's eyes widen, while Allison's contort into confusion. "Are those claws?"

"I think so. But these were in your tires, so it isn't the engine that made your car break down." Malia says, allowing the brunette to finish her sentence.