Chapter 6

Aila Coraline

I had no allies in the packhouse—not even my father. He always took everyone else's side, never mine. I had learned to live with it, but it still felt unfair.

“She didn’t start the fight; it was Cynthia. I saw it,” Zayn defended me, interrupting Cynthia’s father, who was insistent that I had provoked his daughter.

We were in Alpha Samuel’s office, called to resolve what had happened yesterday. They wanted us to reconcile, but I had no intention of forgiving.

“My daughter is short-tempered. I’d apologize if she hurt your daughter,” my father said, as if my pain was just a minor inconvenience to him.

I felt a rush of heat surge through my chest. His words, cold and detached, were the final straw.

“She’s only hurt because she always provokes me! I didn’t start this war, so why are you apologizing? Did they ever apologize to me? No!” I snapped, unable to contain the flood of emotions building up inside me.

My father’s eyes darkened, his glare sharp enough to pierce through steel. He hated my defiance, and I could sense the irritation rolling off him in waves. He wanted me to sit there, silent and submissive, like I always had. But not anymore.

Cynthia hadn’t even bothered to apologize after everything she’d done to me. And now I was expected to play nice? To forgive, to forget? No. Not this time.

“Why won’t you tell them it was all your doing in the beginning, Cynthia? Are you scared to tell the truth?” I demanded, turning my attention to her.

Cynthia’s eyes flickered with panic, her gaze darting toward her father like she was waiting for him to rescue her. He gave me a deathly glare, one I returned without hesitation. He couldn’t intimidate me—not when I knew I had done nothing wrong.

“You always tell me I’m nothing without my father. But it seems to me, you’re nothing without yours—a coward hiding behind her daddy,” I spat, watching her pale at my words.

“Aila Coraline!”

But I was too far gone. I turned on him, my anger finally breaking free from the chains I had wrapped it in for years.

“What? You always reprimand me, but when are you going to actually protect me?” My voice trembled with rage, but I didn’t care anymore. I was done biting my tongue for the sake of peace. “Look at her father, so defensive of her, even when it’s his daughter who keeps bullying me! Why can’t you be like that, just once?”

The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them, but I didn’t regret a single one. It felt like a dam had broken inside me, years of hurt and frustration spilling out all at once.

“I’m tired of being the one who has to endure this! You act like I’m the problem, but look at me! When I had broken ribs, when my arms were cut open, when my head was bleeding—did you even wonder who did it? It was that girl!” I pointed toward Cynthia, my body shaking. “But did I complain? Did I ask for your help? No, because I knew you wouldn’t care!”

My father’s face hardened, his expression one of cold, practiced indifference, but I could see the flicker of discomfort in the eyes of those around us. For once, I wasn’t going to be the quiet, obedient daughter.

I turned to Alpha Samuel. “I’m sorry, Alpha. But I’m done. If you want to kick me out of this pack, go ahead. I couldn’t care less anymore,” I said, my voice calm, even as my heart raced with adrenaline. I gave a curt bow, and before anyone could respond, I stormed out of the room.

Behind me, I heard my father call my name, a tone of desperation in his voice that I had never heard before. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t care. I had enough of him. Enough of being treated like I didn’t matter.

He would never see me as anything other than a problem, something to be controlled. Why couldn’t he defend me, even once? Was I that unbearable in his eyes?

“Ai!”

My steps faltered. Nobody in the pack called me Ai. The sound of it sent a shiver through me, and I turned to see Zayn, his face filled with a concern that only made the ache in my chest worse. He was looking at me with that same emotion I had seen before, like he cared. But it felt hollow.

I closed my eyes as blurred memories flashed behind my eyelids, fragments of something I couldn’t quite grasp. His voice saying that name stirred something in me, something I didn’t want to feel.

“Don’t come after me, Zayn,” I warned, my voice cold and distant. “You’re just like them.”

I didn’t want his pity or his attempts to defend me. I was done with everyone and their hollow reassurances.

Zayn still followed me, despite my warning. I could hear his footsteps quickening as he tried to catch up. “Coraline, wait,” he called, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

I didn’t stop. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I sped up. “Just leave me alone, Zayn,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

“I’m not going to leave you like this,” he insisted. “You need to calm down. You're only making things worse for yourself.”

“Worse?” I scoffed, spinning around to face him. “How much worse can it get? Tell me, Zayn. What part of this entire situation makes you think I care about anything getting worse? Everyone already thinks I'm a problem.”

His brows furrowed as he took a cautious step toward me. “I know it feels like everyone’s against you, but you don’t have to handle this alone. Just… let me help.”

"Help?" I laughed bitterly. “You want to help now? Where was your help when Cynthia and her friends were making my life hell? Where was your help when I was bleeding on the ground? You say all the right things when it’s too late, Zayn.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, his eyes searching mine, as if trying to find the right words. “I know I should’ve done more, but I’m here now.”

I shook my head, stepping back. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re not here for me. You’re here because you think it’ll fix whatever guilt you’re feeling. But it won’t.”

Zayn’s face hardened at my words, but I didn’t care. He wasn’t the Zayn from my dreams. He wasn’t the one who stood by me, who cared for me. This Zayn… this Zayn only knew how to play by the pack’s rules, just like everyone else.

“I don’t need you to pretend like you care,” I continued. “I don’t need your help. I’ve been handling myself long before you decided to step in.”

His expression flickered, a flash of something—maybe pain or frustration—crossed his face, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it affected me. I turned on my heel, ready to walk away for good this time.

“Coraline, don’t do this. I’m trying to be here for you,” he called after me one last time.

He's trying? I never asked him to try. He could just get lost, and I'd appreciate it more. I’ve been bullied countless times, and he never even bothered to step in. Now, when things have gone too far, he’s acting like he suddenly cares? That’s pure bullshit. If anything, he looks like a clown trying to play hero after the damage is done.

Where was he when I needed someone? Nowhere. And now he’s standing there, hoping to ease his guilt or whatever it is he’s feeling. He can save that act for someone else. It’s pathetic, really. Trying to clean up the mess he ignored for so long.

I paused, looking at him over my shoulder. “I hope you'll just stay in my dream, Zayn. In there, you're better, but looking at you right now—I wanted to puke in disgust."

And with that, I walked away, not once looking back.