Chapter 5

Aila Coraline

It's only been a week since I left home, and I've never been this eager to return and see my mother. I miss her more than anything. But Father won’t let me go home until training ends.

"I heard you injured someone in the shoulder today. Antonio came to the office early this morning and told me what you did," Father said.

"It was a duel," I defended. "I had to give my best to win. It’s not like I did it on purpose. Well, maybe I did, but it was part of the training. Zayn was the one who called for the duel."

He crossed his arms. "You know the rules, Coraline."

My frustration flared. "You didn’t even care when I fractured my ribs on the third day of training. You seemed unbothered then, but now that someone else is hurt, it’s a problem? I’m tired of this double standard, Father!"

He opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off. "I’m doing my best here, and I’m not going to apologize for competing. This is what you wanted for me, isn’t it? To be strong and capable?"

Father sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to dispel a headache. "I wanted you to train, yes, but not to the point of injuring others. You need to show restraint and discipline."

I clenched my fists. "I’ll work on it. But don’t expect me to back down in a fight. That’s not who I am."

He narrowed his eyes at me, a flicker of something—maybe disappointment—crossing his face. "You need to find a balance, Coraline. Strength is important, but so is control. I want you to succeed, but not at the expense of others."

I turned away frustrated, knowing he wouldn’t understand. I just wanted to prove myself, not just to him but to everyone who doubted me.

"It's still early in the morning, and you're already furrowing your brows," Seven commented.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore him. "What do you want, Seven? Can't you see I’m in no mood for your games?"

"Just trying to lighten the mood," he said, smirking as he leaned against the railing. "But it seems like you're in a world of your own. Did someone finally push your buttons?"

I huffed, crossing my arms. "You could say that. I'm tired of everyone."

The day started with me being annoyed, and it ended with me being angry.

Zayn had called me out a hundred times, nagging me in front of countless pack soldiers during our hunting exercise. My dearest Savannah, ever the free spirit wolf, got easily distracted during training, and as a result, we failed miserably.

My wolf and I had always been a team that thrived on freedom. We didn’t follow orders like obedient soldiers; I let her do her thing, and she allowed me to do mine. Now, Zayn was trying to change that. He wanted me to control Savannah, but the way he said it felt more like a demand than guidance. The thought of being a rebel started to sound far more appealing than being controlled.

“Can we just skip practice tomorrow?” Savannah asked, her voice suddenly clear in my mind as I settled into bed, exhausted from the day’s events.

I couldn’t help but smile at her suggestion. “You know they won’t let us get away with that, right? Zayn would probably hunt us down himself.”

“Let him try,” she retorted playfully. “I’m done with being told what to do. We’re better when we’re free.”

As tempting as that sounded, I knew it wasn’t practical. “We can’t afford to skip, especially with the upcoming tests. You know how important it is to prove ourselves.”

“Important to who?” she challenged. “To Zayn? To your father? What about us? We matter too, you know.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples in frustration. “I get that, but if we want to gain respect, we have to play their game—at least for now.”

Savannah huffed in annoyance. “Respect? From who? Those weaklings who can’t even hold their own in training? I don’t want to waste my energy on them. I want to run, to hunt, to be free again.”

“I do too,” I admitted softly, feeling the weight of my own desires clash with the expectations placed upon me. “But right now, we have to focus on showing them what we’re capable of. We can’t let Zayn’s words get to us.”

“His words already got to you. That’s why you’re so eager to prove something. We don’t need to prove anything to them. We know ourselves better, Coraline,” Savannah whispered.

I turned over in my bed, staring at the wall as I processed her words. There was truth in what she said; I had let Zayn’s constant criticisms chip away at my confidence. Somewhere along the way, I had started to seek validation from people who didn’t matter.

“But if I don’t prove myself now, what happens when it counts?” I replied. “What if my father loses faith in me? What if Zayn thinks I’m just the beta’s daughter who can’t hack it?”

“Who cares what they think?” Savannah urged. “We know who we are, and we’re stronger than they’ll ever realize. If they can’t see that, then let them underestimate us. We’ll show them in our own way.”

Her confidence was infectious. “You really think so? I mean, maybe I’m just afraid of disappointing everyone.”

“Disappointing them or disappointing yourself?” she asked. “You’re not living for them; you’re living for you. Remember that. You’re capable of so much more than they give you credit for.”

Everything she said made sense. But if I followed her, I feared Father would get angry again. I feared he would question my mother about how she raised me and how I had become rebellious—far from the one he expected me to be.

In the end, I had to disappoint my wolf and follow what my father wanted. It was the hardest thing to do, but I tried, just like I promised him.

"What happened to your arms? Why is it bleeding?" he asked.

I smiled and told him it was nothing. Just like that, he didn't asked further.

Cynthia actually pushed me during training, and I accidentally fell on the barbed wire and cut myself. She said it was an accident. If I fought back, I'd be painted as the bad one.

I tried to keep my cool every time Cynthia and her gang provoked me. I did my best to control my emotions; the moon goddess knew that. But during one of our training sessions, as I was practicing, Cynthia suddenly struck me from behind. The impact sent me stumbling forward, and I felt a sharp pain as I hit my forehead against the hard ground, blood trickling down my face.

Zayn, who had been observing from a distance, rushed over. "What happened?" he asked.

I could see the worry in his eyes, but it only fueled my anger. "This is what you wanted, right? For me to submit to their bullying and let myself get hurt. This is it. Happy now?" I snapped, wiping the blood from my forehead with the back of my hand.

He stepped closer, reaching out as if to help me. "Coraline, let me—"

"I don’t need your help. I can handle myself," I interrupted, taking a step back to create distance between us.

I glared at Cynthia, who looked pale now, but I knew the bitch was rejoicing beneath that façade. Her expression was just a mask, and I could see the twisted delight simmering just below the surface.

“If you want so badly to hurt me, just kill me,” I spat, my voice cold as ice. I picked up the spear that lay on the ground and thrust it toward Cynthia. “Do it now!”

“Coraline!” Zayn yelled, his face a portrait of horror as he lunged forward to snatch the spear from my grip. That same expression I had seen in my dreams, but this is no fantasy. The Zayn in my dream is different from the one I'm facing right now. That is something I should acknowledge.

“I’m giving her a favor! Can’t you see, Zayn? I’m freaking tired of all their games! You can’t even reprimand them!”

He looked at me, his eyes wide with fear, as if he were terrified I would actually let Cynthia kill me. But in that moment, if it meant putting an end to this relentless torment, I would gladly embrace it. I was no longer afraid of death. I used to be, but now, death seemed like a peaceful escape from this world.

Zayn’s voice cracked with annoyance. “You’re stronger than that!”

“Stronger?” I laughed bitterly, the sound echoing in the tense air. “Look where strength has gotten me—beaten and bloodied, constantly fighting a losing battle. If this is strength, I want no part of it.”