Isaac saw the wound. Smelled how fresh it still seemed, as though it could've happened five minutes ago.
Scott should be healing. Why wasn't he healing?
Every thought in Isaac's mind came to a screeching halt, drowned out by one pervasive thought.
Scott's going to die. This is going to kill him.
It made sense, Isaac reasoned. Scott was the first person in a long time to show Isaac that he truly cared for him. He felt safe when he was near Scott.
He felt loved.
And so, of course, it would only really be true to Isaac's life if the source of all that goodness was taken away from him.
Isaac wasn't alone in his misery. He knew that.
Boyd was mourning Derek. He was sitting next to Isaac, tightly wound and clamping down on every urge to leap the few rows back and rip open Ethan's throat. Isaac could feel his rage.
Boyd's mourning his Alpha, but Isaac had long since switched loyalties.
Scott was Isaac's home now.
And if Isaac was going to lose that, he was damn sure going to make the ones responsible pay.
So he let the punches rain down on Ethan's face, feeling a sick satisfaction as the blood started trickling.
Danny kept screaming at him to stop, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Isaac was going to smash this piece of shit, he was going to obliterate him.
Because wolves without anchors are capable of anything, and they'd just taken his away.
He didn't believe he was really hearing it at first, when Scott's voice broke through the muddled din of screams, strong and steady and alive.
But he stilled his fists and looked, and Scott was standing there looking back at him, and all of Isaac's rage fell away in favor of a heavy dose of gratitude.
His anchor was still there.
He could still go home.