[Stiles may not whimper from the growl, but Brigid does. She's had a growl directed at her very recently and as the wounds show, it hadn't turned out well for her.

As the shirt comes away in pieces, some of her dignity is saved: Most of her sports bra is intact. Not that she'd care right now, but it's nice to know. Her skin quivers as he pulls cloth out of wounds.

Concentrating on not breaking Stiles' hand helps too.]

Two years ago, the Alpha killed my Da.

[She swallows as one long strip comes out of a deep gash on her stomach.]

I asked why, and when he didn't answer, I waited. Then, I challenged him. I lost.

[Obviously.]