Chapter 3

Serena’s POV

The rest of the week felt like walking through a bed of coal. Every hallway still whispered around me, only stopping when I got close before beginning again the moment I had passed.

People didn’t even bother trying to hide it anymore. On a random day, I heard two juniors near the lockers betting on how many more days I would last before I finally “quit and let someone serious take over.”

On Wednesday a group of Alphas laughed openly in the courtyard, calling my rise to position “the Omega experiment” while also making bets praying on my downfall.

What pissed me off was that none even seemed to root for me. They only made bets on the closest possible date to my predetermined failure. It made my blood boil with anger.

Somehow, the teacher’s were even worse. They were polite but clearly distant, having no words of encouragement, or suddenly too busy when it seemed like I might approach them.

It was an humiliation ritual being ostracized like this. But I still kept my head up anyways.

Why? Because I still had large but quiet bands of Omegas who had hope in me. Their small reasurances helped. An Omega sophomore slipped a note into my locker that said “Still with you.” Another girl in my English class quietly moved her chair so I wouldn’t have to sit alone when the seats around me stayed empty.

And Katie, my Katie checked in between every period, sometimes bringing me coffee, other times just her warm smile that easily lifted my mood.

Those were the moments kept me steady while I studied and then spent free periods running surveys, rewriting proposals, and wracking my brains for ways to make Omega life less miserable on campus. I needed solid arguments, I needed to also perfect my eloquence so the council— or Nathan to be precise couldn’t dismiss as easily.

By Friday afternoon, I was exhausted from a week’s worth of school work and research. The heavy load of homework did not promise a restful weekend either.

The final bell soon rung, and the room thinned out as I dragged my weary bones up, stuffing my books in my bag. As I walked towards my locker, the bag strap digging into my shoulder from the weight, that was when I saw him.

Nathaniel Storm was stood near the turn that led to the side exit, speaking to another student, and his gaze looked pretty intense.

His black hair was neatly combined back and his uniform looked like it had never seen a wrinkle in its life. His posture was refined and elegant, and I didn't like where the rest of this was going so I mentally smacked myself.

In my questionable moment of ogling him and chastising myself for it, the other student left. That was when his blue eyes landed on me.

I froze at first, then I turned and tried to walk to where I just came from. Anything to avoid him I guess.

“McAllistair.” He called.

I stopped in my tracks. I don't know why bit I felt like Ignoring him gave the impression that I was intimidated by him.

So I waited.

He walked closer, and soon stopped in front of me, burying his hands in his pockets. Then he gazed down at him with those piercing blue yes, though his expression was unreadable.

“You look really tired already.” He stated, and for a flicker of a moment, I swore I heard worry in his tone. It was nearly jarring to think about. Thankfully, he proved me wrong fast.

“How long until you give up?” He completed.

I might have been offended if not for the complete lack of interest in his voice, the never ending boredom.

I met his gaze head on. “I already beat you at the elections… why would I give up now?”

He chuckled softly and I blink hard.

It's the first time i’d seen his laugh so I notice he has… dimples. Not faint ones, but deep, distinct ones. The small hole softened his sharp features.

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “No?” He tilted his head slightly, quietly intrigued I presume. I’m not exactly good at reading him… or people in general for that matter.

It was quiet for a moment.

Then I realized he was waiting for an answer.

I didn't bother responding.

To my utmost surprise, he sighed. And the sound actually sounded weary. “You’ve been president for a week now. Half the school is already counting down the days until you give up. The council votes against you on sight. So why bother staying?”

I started to turn away. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You think this is some child’s play.” He said firmly.

That caught me off-guard. I stopped and turned back. “What?”

The way he said it, it didn't sound like a question. He said it like it was a fact.

“This...” He answered, gesturing around him. “It’s obvious you don’t take any of this seriously. You built your entire campaign on big speeches, tugging at emotions of the voiceless and promising change. But you can't change anything. Why? Because you hate Alphas.”

I blinked hard, stunned. “I-i-i… I don’t hate Alphas.” I said but the denial felt heavy on my tongue.

“Yes, you do.”

“No I don't.”

“You’ve suggested twenty-two policy reforms in your week as president. How many of that can you actually say caters to Alphas? Or benefits us in the slightest?”

"Well that's because Alphas already have what they're asking for. Equality isn't giving everyone the same thing. It's fixing what's been unequal.”

His gaze flashed. “You think Alphas don’t have issues?”

“That’s not what i’m say—”

His eyes sharpened. “I’ll answer for you. We do. We do a-fucking-lot. So now you tell me, how exactly are you supposed to be fair when half the students you represent belong to a group you can’t stand? I would really like to know.”

“….” That struck me silent. I couldn't answer.

Nathaniel waited and waited.

When none came, he sighed again, shaking his head. Then he gave me that look again, the one that always made me insignificant. Then he turned and started walking away.

That made sudden anger flare in me. My jaw clenched tight, hands curling into fist. “Storm!”

He paused. But he didn't turn to meet my stare.

“I don't hate Alphas…” I stated, voice sharp but uncertain.

Silence.

“I don't hate Alphas.” I repeated, even more enraged. “I hate this school. I hate the system that lets people like you decide everything because your last name is carved in stone somewhere on this building.”

He finally turned to look at me. “You always disappoint me.”

I blinked at the words. “What?”

“Legacy seats exists because great families invested in this school for generations— both Alpha and Omega. That’s not a crime. Your activism, on the other hand, is running on pure emotion. You took something bad that happened to you and decided the entire structure had to burn. That’s not leadership or change or wanting better. That’s a grudge.”

My anger flared. “You don’t know anything about what happened to me…You don't know anything about me Nate!” I snapped, stepping closer. The hallway had become mostly empty, thankfully so, because the tension between us was palpable. “So you don’t get to call MY experience a grudge just because it’s inconvenient for privileged assholes like you. Legacy doesn’t make you smarter. It just makes you harder to move because you can’t see anything you deem beneath you.” I spat, the words venomous.

“It makes me realistic…” He answered. “You want to tear down divisions that exist for safety and order, then act persecuted when the room votes no. You call it justice. But in the end it fixes nothing. It's just placing a Band-Aid over centuries of pent up enmity.”

“And in the end, the actual cost is Omegas staying quiet and underappreciated, unprotected, oppressed.” I shot back, anger boiling over. “Just so Alphas never have to share space, or blame, or accountability. You sit in your chair because your family fucking paid for it. I sit in mine because people saw me and chose me. Don't think you know structure and tradition better than I do. Don't think you know the cost either. Because for us Omegas that's all our lives are shrunken to. COST!”

The words landed hard.

And for a long second, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt tight, charged with emotion.

His blue eyes didn’t look away. Neither did mine.

“You’re going to keep pushing…” He said finally. It wasn’t a question.

“….”

I remained quiet. That was my answer.

He got the message clearly. “Then I’ll keep stopping you when you’re wrong.”

“And I’ll keep calling out your hypocrisy. I didn't fight for this seat just to lose it. You and your little band of wolves can straight up reject every proposal I suggest. That's not going to stop me.” I give him a cold determined smirk. “Change will happen in Northridge. Whether you like it or not.” I assure him.

He held my gaze a moment longer, then looks away, giving me a small, cold nod. “We’ll see.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away towards the exit. I stay where I am until the door closed behind him.

My hands were clenched at my sides, my breathing still uneven from the anger in my chest.

It hit me with cutting clarity that this fight— it was going to be a long and hard one. And it just went from academical to personal.

I adjusted my bag strap and started walking again, already rewriting my next policy in my head.