002

{THE WEIGHT OF SHADOW}

It was finally the end of the school day, and Betty walked slowly behind the crowd hurrying down the hall.

She understood why someone would want to leave this terrible place called an academy, but she didn't get why everyone seemed so excited to go home.

For the other students, home was a safe place. For Betty, home was just another part of her struggles. It was a place that reminded her of her failures, where it felt hard to breathe.

But then again, they weren't her.

They were wolves with packs and names.

She was just a stray.

She sighed and pulled her big grey hoodie tighter around her. She held onto the straps of her backpack, which had juice stains on it. She wanted to hide against the lockers, to become part of the wall, but it felt like the world wanted her to be seen.

She was nearly at the door when a big, rough hand grabbed her shoulder.

"Going somewhere, stray?"

The voice was deep, teasing, and very familiar. Betty's heart sank slowly and painfully. She didn't need to look up to know it was Dave Miller.

He didn't wait for her to reply. He turned her around and started pulling her toward the side door, the one that went to the small alley behind the gym.

"Dave, please," she whispered, her voice fearful and breaking. "I just want to go home."

"Home?" Dave let out a harsh, rough laugh as he pushed her against the brick wall of the alley. "You mean my house? The house you're lucky enough to sleep in because my parents decided to play Good Samaritan for a month?"

He looked at her with a hate that felt deep. Dave was 6 feet tall of beta-born muscle, and standing this close to him, Betty felt small like a mouse next to a cat.

He bent down and took off two heavy, sweaty practice bags from his shoulder, dropping them at her feet with a loud thud.

"Take them," he ordered. "If they aren't in the mudroom and cleaned by the time I get back from the team dinner, you will regret ever being born."

"But they're so heavy, Dave... I have to walk," she pleaded, looking at the huge bags.

Dave stepped closer, pinning her against the rough bricks. He used a finger to poke hard into her chest, right over her heart, over and over.

"You embarrassed us today, Betty. Sheryl told everyone how you sat there like a mute freak while she poured juice on you. My parents adopted a ward, not a laughingstock. I don't know why they thought taking in a stray like you was a good idea. You're a stain on the Miller name."

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed a fistful of her golden wild curls, pulling her head back until she had to look him in the eye.

Betty let out a small cry of pain, tears stinging her eyes.

"Please, Dave... you're hurting me."

"Good," he hissed, his black eyes flashing with that strange, dark heat. "Maybe if it hurts enough, you will start acting like a wolf instead of a—"

"Dave! Yo, Miller! The coach is waiting!" a voice called from the end of the alley.

Dave's jaw clenched. He paused for a moment, holding her hair tighter before suddenly letting go and pushing her head away.

"Carry the bags, Betty. Don't be late."

He turned and ran off, leaving Betty leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She rubbed her head where it hurt, waiting to feel normal again.

It took her a few minutes to lift the practice bags onto her shoulders. They were heavy, smelling like old grass and sweat, pulling her 5'5" frame down.

She couldn't use the main road. Not dressed like this. Not carrying the Beta's bags like a servant.

Betty walked into the back alleys, taking the long, twisty path through the industrial area of Brentwood. It was quiet, with just the sound of her shoes and the faraway noise of traffic.

She liked the quiet for just five minutes before things changed. Then, she heard a loud, continuous pounding on the ground.

Someone was running. No—two people were.

Betty quickly pressed herself against a dumpster just before two blurry shapes ran around the corner.

They were moving so fast it didn't seem human, their bodies slicing through the air. The first boy, who was tall and muscular, bumped into her shoulder as he raced by.

"Get out of the fucking way!" He growled, not looking back as he kept chasing after an invisible target.

The strong hit made Betty spin around. She tried to steady herself, but with Dave's heavy bags, she couldn't. She fell forward, and her hands scraped the rough ground.

Splash.

"No," she whimpered. "No, no, no."

She fell into a big, muddy puddle filled with oily rainwater. Dave's practice bags slipped off her shoulders and were now partly in the mud.

The zipper of one got stuck on the ground, dropping his white practice jersey and leather gloves right into the black goo.

"I'm dead," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He's going to kill me."

Panic hit her like a cold wave. She got down on her hands and knees, desperately trying to clean the muddy gear with her hoodie sleeves, but it just made things messier.

She was crawling in the puddle, a hurt girl among broken things. That was when the alley fell completely silent.

The birds stopped singing.

The sound of traffic in the distance faded. A cold feeling, worse than the wetness of her clothes, crept up her back.

Betty stood still. She slowly turned her head to look at the dark corner of the alley where the sun could not reach.

Someone was walking toward her.

The footsteps were slow and careful. Each step echoed like a warning on the ground.

Betty let out a strangled gasp, falling back onto her butt and crawling backward, away from the darkness. Her heart was exploding against her ribs.

She hit another wall and felt trapped.

The figure walked into the weak light of a flickering streetlamp.

He was big and strong. He wore dark clothes that looked old from being on the road.

His hair was a wild, bright red, covering a face that looked very intense. But what really scared her was the blood—thick, dark spots on his cheek and jaw.

But the most terrifying thing of all? His eyes.

They weren't brown or blue or even the purple of an Alpha.

They were a bright, dangerous gold, shining with a light that filled her with deep fear.

He looked down at her, the small, muddy girl shaking at his feet, as if she were a strange insect he hadn't decided whether to crush or ignore.

He leaned his head, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent. His voice, when he finally talked, was a deep, rough sound that shook the air around them.

"Rogue."