but nobody needs time till it runs out

“This isn’t up for debate, Della.” Patrick Brighton stands tall at the head of the room, staring down the witches with a wave of his hand. His wife, Frida, sits on his right, and his daughter Bridget on his left, and while he respects Della and the work she’s done for the coven over the years, this is a line he doesn’t intend to cross. “We’re not joining Tamara Monroe.”

“Well. Playing favorites again, are we?” Della crosses her arms in front of her chest as she stares up at the stage. “You’ll let Eliza come in here and bring that beast —”

“Name calling is beneath you, Del. But then again, maybe it’s the company you’re keeping.”

“Eliza,” Patrick gives her a look. “Not helping.” Eliza holds up her hands in return. “And I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to give Isaac the opportunity to speak.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re taking the side of monsters.” Della glares at Isaac, and Isaac steps behind Eliza, almost as though she might be able to intercept the glare. He then holds up a hand.

“I’m being called a lot of names and I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“And you shouldn’t be allowed to say anything at all! You’re not one of us!”

“No, but I’m trying to help you.” Isaac’s spine straightens as he takes a step closer. “Those hunters that you want to team up with? They’re not doing it to help you. They’re doing it because you’re powerful and they want to control you.” He holds up his hands again. “Tamara Monroe doesn’t want to ally with you to save you. She’s not looking out for your best interest. She’s just making a note of who to kill last.”

Della looks furious. A gasp of silence rolls through the room, but Isaac isn’t one to sugarcoat things, and beating around the bush hasn’t really caused things to sink in. Before she can try to get the upper hand, Isaac interjects again.

“The hunters are here. They tried to kill me this morning for walking down the street. They will come after your coven and your families, and there is no time to debate this anymore. You need to keep your people safe.”

Patrick looks over at Frida, concern in his features. Della looks like she’s going to argue her case, but before she gets too far, someone stands in the back of the room, and there’s the sound of a gun slide being pulled back. Everyone turns, and a man stands in the middle of the crowd, and he has a gun pointed at Isaac.

“What are you doing?” Patrick demands, stepping forward. “Put that down!”

“I don’t have to listen to you, witch.” The man has a wild look in his eyes. Isaac can see another man looking horrified in a way that’s more personal. The hunter had a partner. “If I had a say in any of this, I’d take every one of you abominations down. But right now, I’m just here for him.”

He turns and fires. The bullet shoots through the air, and Isaac quickly steps in front of Elijah, taking two bullets to the chest. Neither of them were kill shots, but they hurt, and the werewolf stumbles backwards into the witch behind him.

“Oh, I forgot how much that hurts,” Isaac grumbles.

“There’s no wolfsbane in these bullets, but I’m sure a headshot will do the trick.” The hunter prepares to shoot again, but the metal begins to heat in his hand, burning his skin and the hunter hisses before dropping it to the ground.

Patrick is on the stage, hand on the staff that marks him the leader of the coven. “That is enough.”

That should have been the end of things. It wasn’t. Instead, the hunter pulls out another gun, extending his hand and shooting Patrick Brighton at center mass. His body jerks three times as the bullets collide and the room erupts into screams, none more than the women at the front of the room. The witches begin to run, trying to find the nearest door to escape the carnage. Another shot sounds, and Frida Brighton follows her husband, landing on the stage in front of them.

Bridget Brighton doesn’t hesitate, however. There’s a reason she’s been designated her father’s heir, and she acts quickly. She takes the staff, letting it settle into her hand before slamming the end of the staff down into the ground, chanting as she does. A shockwave echoes out through the center of the room, blowing down the walls of the building down and sending people flying.

The other hunter in the room had tried to come to his compatriot’s aid. Instead, he gets sent flying, a jagged piece of wood slicing through his chest from behind. The hunter who shot her father gets knocked to the ground, but he comes to his feet again, staring her down.

“Kill me if you want. But there’s more of us here. We’ll take our pound of flesh either way.”

“So you want to play a game, then?” There’s a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Bridget,” Eliza’s voice is calm, but there’s an undercut of fear to it. Bridget is a good girl, but she’s also a grieving one. “Bridget, we’re better than this.”

“Maybe we are. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to defend ourselves.” The wind picks up around her and she draws her hands out in front of her. She chanted another incantation, before drawing her hands together. The world flickers, and Eliza’s eyes widen.

“What did you do?”

“I trapped them in here with us.”

The hunter’s eyes widen. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, I can do whatever I want. You’re the one who started this.”

“We’ll find a way out. We’ll stop the spell, even if we have to kill you.”

Bridget smirks. “You’ll have to catch me first.” And with that, she disappears from sight.

The hunter tries to leave but Isaac is there before he can get far. The werewolf clotheslines him down to the ground, before shoving a hand into his chest, claws first. The man cries out in pain, before looking up at him, eyes still filled with that wild energy.

“You’re one of Scott McCall’s wolves. You won’t kill me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Isaac twists, feeling the blood start to leak through the wounds. “But you forgot two things. One, Scott’s not here right now, and you shot me. Twice.”

The hunter snarls as Eliza comes up over Isaac’s shoulder.

“And what’s the second?”

“It’s not the head of my coven you just killed.”