For Carson Bradley, Stiles Stilinski, and Scott McCall, they were used to having a Plan B. This time, however, they were merely pawns in a far more deadly game.
(season 3, book 3)
(no longer updating)
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TWENTY-FOUR DEARLY DEPARTED
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Night had begun to set throughout Beacon Hills, which only seemed to heighten Carson Bradley's annoyance. She and Scott were still at the high school, for reasons that didn't really make much sense to her. Then again, ninety percent of what she and her friends went through daily made no sense to her, so really she was choosing to ignore this one instance.
Carson and Scott were situated on the outdoor portion of the second floor, the two best friends leaning over the railing that looked over most of the buildings front. It had been an hour or two since they had spoken to Morrell and Carson could literally feel the anguish in her gut curling up by the second. As much as she hated to admit it, Cora and Morrell had made fairly decent points when both made it very clear that the pseudo-pack of werewolves and human teenagers (plus whatever the fuck Lydia was) were not good at finding people before they died. Or that they weren't a match for Deucalion.
Both were fairly true statements considering their dead body finding track record and the fact that they had nearly gotten their asses whooped by Deucalion (and Derek had literally almost died — although was that really bad? Yeah, you know what, they'd probably need him for something or other eventually). The fact that they were fairly true statements is what had Scott and Carson's head spinning. Because they knew the Darach wasn't going to be stopping any time soon with the sacrifices. And the alpha pack wasn't going to be stopping anytime soon with trying to get Scott, the supposed true alpha, into their pack.
Speaking of Scott and the whole true alpha thing, Carson had pretty much been staring the McCall boy down for the better part of the past twenty minutes, trying to make sense of the whole ordeal. Scott. An alpha. An alpha based on his good virtue, his goodwill, his purity. Like she had thought before back in Morrell's office (while the whole idea and mythology seemed ludicrous on the face of itself) it wasn't shocking that out of the werewolves populating Beacon Hills, that the true alpha would be Scott. Scott was good. Scott was kind, caring, pure. A beacon of hope in the everlasting darkness that blanketed itself around this godforsaken town. Scott had been the savior, time and time again. He had always been the one who tried to do everything the right way, the noble way.
Honestly, if a true alpha did exist, Scott McCall would one hundred percent be the man for the job.
Adjusting the way she had her forearms leaned up against the railing, she nudged the taller boy with her shoulder. She pursed her lips softly as he glanced over at her, a confused look in his eyes. Softly, she asked, "Why didn't you say anything? About the whole true alpha business? Why didn't you tell me, at least?"
Scott stared at her for a long moment, before he sighed. "What's the point of saying something that might not even be true? Deucalion could be wrong."
