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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NINE THREEFOLD DEATHS
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Carson felt herself get shoved to the ground and she let out a growl, glaring up at Isaac.
Her vision was clouded with red spots, like blood was slipping down a windowpane. She was fighting, but she was losing. The hold that the moon seemed to have over was was too strong, plaguing her thoughts and pushing her conscience and herself down. So far down that all she was emanating was a feral monster. She could see herself doing it, but she couldn't stop it.
The urge to go back downstairs and make the kill was far too strong.
Rip him to shreds.
Take out Isaac too, just for the hell of it.
And Peter. He deserves to die. He's the true monster of all, his death would be a service to the world.
They all deserve to die.
No one cares about you.
It won't matter if they're gone.
Carson let out a scream which seemed to filter into another feral growl. Her feet started moving on their own accord and soon she found herself charging at Isaac. Barely a second past after she crashed into his chest and his forearm came up, landing a blow that caused her to sail back to the ground like a rag doll.
"Let me go, Isaac," Carson snarled, getting back to her feet. She stalked towards him again, just to meet a similar result. Only this time, he wrapped his forearm around her and spun her around so that her back was against his chest. She struggled against his ironclad grip to no avail.
You're weak.
Kill. Him. Now.
Kill them all.
"Carson, snap out of it, focus!" he yelled. "Find yourself an anchor!"
"Let me go!"
"Find an anchor! That's Stiles downstairs, you don't want to kill him."
"Yes. I. Do!"
"No, you don't. Don't let this control you. Don't let it consume you."
The normal part of Carson knew that Isaac was right. But that part was too overshadowed by what she was becoming. The full moon was like an overcast over everything she thought was right. Carson was seeing in shades of red, instead of the clear view she was used to. This was the complete opposite of rose-colored glasses; this view was making her a killer.
