Chapter 3

EMAL

Blake grips my chin roughly, tilting my head up so I’m forced to meet his mocking gaze.

“Stand up,” he commands. I ignore him, holding onto the small hope that the teacher will walk in any second. Even though I know their presence wouldn’t change much, it would at least serve as a distraction. I glance at my wristwatch and sigh internally.

"Class should have started by now. Where is the teacher?"

Blake chuckles. “Waiting for someone? The teacher?” His voice drips with amusement.

He turns to the class, still gripping my face. “I think someone should let our dear friend know that the teacher won’t be coming anytime soon.”

Laughter erupts around us, a cruel chorus of mockery.

True enough. What was I even waiting for?

“Can you please go back to your seat? This is my territory and I didn't cross the line.” I say, hoping he would just desist from his evil plans and leave me to myself. Well, it turns out to be just hope.

Blake smirks. “Your seat? Your territory? Who do you think owns this classroom?” He leans closer, his voice low but full of malice. “I run this place. I do what I want. To whoever I want.”

He starts tapping my shoulder—light punches, more irritating than painful, but enough to make my skin crawl.

“Stand up,” he orders again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Fear spikes through me. I hate it, but I obey, rising to my feet like a well-trained dog.

Blake grins. “That’s how it’s done. I give orders, you follow. No hesitation.” His breath is hot against my face, his spit nearly landing on my cheek. My hands tighten into fists, but I stay still.

Laughter swells around me, wrapping around my chest like a vice. My classmates, both human and werewolf, laugh at my humiliation.

Blake notices my fist balled up. He grabs my hand and forces it to remain in a fist, slamming it against his own chest.

“Look at that!” he taunts. “You do have some fight in you, huh? Come on, hit me! Hit me, coward!”

I don’t move. My face burns, my heart beats faster, but I do nothing.

Blake scoffs. “Pathetic. And this is our future Alpha? What a joke. Your father must be a fool to think you could ever lead a pack.”

That’s it. The last straw.

The moment he insults my father, something inside me snaps.

I lift my gaze to his, feeling my eyes change. Gasps ripple through the room, but I don’t care. Rage fuels me and my fist swings before I can think, landing squarely on Blake’s face.

Saying my father is silly got me mad and I feel like tearing him apart. If only I can do so.

“What audacity?" he wants to intimidate me but I'm angrier than he ever expects.

“Say one more word and you are dead meat.” I threaten. Damn! Where the courage arises from, I have no idea.

Shock flickers in his eyes before it morphs into fury. He retaliates, slamming a punch into my mouth. Pain explodes through my lip, and I taste blood. Blood? The sight of it only fuels my anger.

We crash into each other, throwing punches, rolling across the floor. The class erupts into chaos; desks scrape against the floor, students scramble away, their cheers filling the air.

Then, I begin to feel tired. Blake isn't anywhere near tired as he's got the strength. I can already feel exhaustion creeping in, my body struggling to keep up. If he shifted into his wolf form, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

“What is going on here?” a voice interrupted us.

Silence.

I freeze, chest heaving, my vision swimming. The voice is deep, authoritative. I don’t need to look up to know I’m possibly in trouble.

The question is repeated, and before I can speak, Luke, one of Blake’s lackeys, steps forward.

“Sir, Emal started the fight,” he lies effortlessly.

To prove it, he holds up his phone, showing a video of me throwing the first punch.

I don’t defend myself. I don’t explain that I was provoked, that Blake pushed me to the edge. I just stare at the authority figure, my body aching, my mind numb.

I already know what comes next.

Detention.

I will have to go to the detention room for the whole day to serve as punishment and I simply go ahead without complaint or being told.

Silently, I pray for a miracle. I imagine myself suddenly getting strong and getting back at Blake, defeating him in public, and showing him that I'm more than capable to be the next Alpha.

I make attempt to feel my powers and see if I can make use of it but I feel nothing. Dejectedly, I sit at a corner of the room and curl myself up, leaning my back on the wall.

*

*

UNKNOWN

Lord Forlock College has always been my dream school. I wanted nothing more than to study here, but it never seemed possible—until an anonymous generous philanthropist sponsored my education.

Now, at seventeen, I finally have the chance to be here.

Living with my grandmother, life hasn’t been easy for us. Most days, we barely have enough to eat. The same philanthropist who sponsored me also helped us move to a better neighborhood. But I never told my grandma where the money came from.

Instead, I told her I saved up from a petty job before getting into school.

Today marks my first day at school and I’m very anxious.

For the first time in my entire life, I will be meeting so many people whom I know nothing of and nothing of their character. Never have I associated with so many people as I've always been refrained from mingling with others. As far as I can remember, it should be since I was a baby. My grandma made sure of it.

I wake up early, dress neatly, and take the first school wagon that picks up less privileged students like myself.

Reaching the school gates, I glance up at the sky and whisper a short prayer.

Let today be a good day.

Following the directions given by the college guide, I find my classroom without any trouble. I slip inside, unnoticed, and take a seat near the right side of the room.

At first, everything seems normal. The students seem friendly enough.

Then, a boy walks in.

He looks my age—tall, handsome, expressionless.

“What an angel!" I think, marveling at his striking features.

But he doesn’t acknowledge anyone. He simply walks to the back of the class and sits.

I huff. So arrogant. How can he just ignore his classmates?

Before I can dwell on it, another boy approaches him. I can’t hear what’s being said, but suddenly, the whole class bursts into laughter. What’s funny?

Confused, I strain to listen.

“Hit me, hit me…” I hear the words clearly this time and it dawn on me that the boy is being bullied.

"What's wrong with him? Is he a fool? Can't he fight back?" I blame the handsome boy until I see him punch the other boy in the face.

"Yes, that's the spirit." I cheer him inaudibly. It seems like I am the only one who is cheering him on. Strange! But I don't care. I'm not a fan of fights, neither am I an advocate of bullies and injustice. I want to assist the boy when the fight between them intensifies, however I stop myself.

"For heaven's sake, I'm still new in the school and I can't meddle in the matter anyhow."

No one is doing anything and the boy seems to be in pain as he can't stand the blows of the other. I silently left the class to call on a teacher or anybody old enough to stop them.

When the teacher finally arrives, the handsome boy is sent out of the class and the bully remains in class. What injustice!

I can’t say anything and quietly remain in my seat.

"After all, Lord Forlock might not be how I thought it is."