Isiah frowned, taking a moment to understand what was being said around him. Neither were making direct accusations, he realised, but indirectly was enough to make his already volatile blood boil. He slammed his fist down onto the dark wood table top, glaring from Granville to Mariella. They were always the worst offenders, always the pair that had to make life difficult for him and his pack. Sometimes, privately, he wondered what sort of chaos would rain down upon them if he took it upon himself to get rid of them both.
"I will not have my kin blamed for something that we are not responsible for." He said viciously, "Especially not by you, Mariella, or you, Granville. Where is your proof? Where is it?" He demanded, nostrils flaring as he glared.