𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫, m. tate & i. lahey

𝟎𝟐𝟕. all she wanted

"Coach changed his mind," he starts, briefly looking over at the man by the referees. "Scott and Stiles are trying to come up with a new plan right now. Do you think you can still take out the TV vans?"

"I can do it," Malia tells him. "Where's Allison?"

"She's helping Brett's sister check the shoes under the bleachers." Isaac points in the direction of the younger girl, who's slowly making her way down each row as she peers at the soles while Allison covers the other set of seats nearby. "Corey and Mason are in Devenford's bus right now."

Malia inclines her chin in acknowledgment. Then Isaac hesitates, seemingly having more to say but remaining unsure of himself. She looks at him expectantly. "What?"

"I—"

"LAHEY!" The pair flinches as Coach's booming voice reaches their ears, and they can see him glowering at Isaac despite the distance between them. "Get. On. The. Field."

Isaac waves a hand at Coach and scoffs. He turns back to Malia. "Be careful, okay?"

The werecoyote nods, and he pulls his helmet over his face before jogging over to the rest of his teammates. Malia's gaze follows him for another moment, and she bites the inside of her cheek nervously as he aligns himself with the other players. If Malia doesn't complete her task, then Isaac might end up being among those who'll die in the Beast's path. The thought of that makes her stomach churn.

She glances at her surroundings to ensure that nobody is paying her any attention, and then she hoists herself to the top of one of the many vans parked on the side of the field.

Malia kneels down to avoid being spotted by the news crew, wrapping her fingers around the thick cords connecting the satellite pole to the cameras within the vehicle. She tears them out from the plugs, severing the connection and smiling contently. Malia repeats this process with the other vans, reaching the last section within a matter of minutes.

However, when she tries to jump from one van to the other, a hand yanks her off the surface, causing Malia's forehead to slam into the metal door before she meets the grass below. The throbbing sensation spreads throughout Malia's entire face, strained groans escaping her lips as she rolls onto her spine instead of staying on her stomach.

A slim figure appears directly above her, staring down at the girl silently. Malia's eyes struggle to focus, being engulfed by blurred lines and clouds as she blinks rapidly. Then she pushes herself onto her elbows, glaring up at The Desert Wolf once her vision clears.

"Bitch."

"I prefer Mom."

"To be honest," Malia grunts as she forces her legs to support her standing position. "I am totally up for killing you right now, but I've got other priorities."

"I can see that," Corinne hums. "You got something against the local news? Somebody about a broadcast you didn't like?"

"Somebody's about to. And since I know you're not gonna try to kill me until there's a full moon— get out of my way," Malia moves to go around the woman, only for her path to be blocked again. "People are going to die."

The Desert Wolf shakes her head nonchalantly. "People die every day, sweetheart."

An uncomfortable feeling rises in the pit of Malia's gut at the word. "Stop calling me that. You don't get to call me sweetheart."