Chapter 5

Xena’s POV

"What's up?" I asked, crossing my arms as I approached him.

Ryder shifted his weight, his green eyes serious. "I wanted to talk to you about Helen."

Of course. His girlfriend. "What about her?" I kept my voice neutral.

"She's got a bit of a temper," Ryder admitted, running a hand through his light blonde hair. "But she's transferring soon, and I don't want any problems at school before then."

I raised an eyebrow. Was this his way of asking me to play nice? After she'd been nothing but hostile?

"As long as she knows her place," I replied coolly. "If she doesn't, I'm sure she'll figure it out quickly." I didn't phrase it as a threat, but we both knew it was a promise.

He nodded slightly, his face still indifferent. "Why do they call you 'Blade' at school?"

A small smile crossed my lips. "Because I'm sharp. I'm not the warm, friendly type."

Before Ryder could respond, I sensed a familiar presence behind me. Samuel approached, his grey eyes taking in the scene with quiet assessment.

"Everything okay here?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling with an underlying protective edge.

Ryder's eyes darted between us, misinterpreting. "Your boyfriend?"

I didn't bother correcting him. "Not even close," I replied flatly. "See you tomorrow."

I turned away, feeling Ryder's gaze on my back as Samuel and I walked into the crowded restaurant. The sound of his motorcycle roaring to life outside moments later confirmed he'd left.

Logan, Leonard, and Ama still seated at the booth, plates of half-eaten food scattered across the table. Logan's eyes immediately locked onto mine, the twin connection letting him sense my mood instantly.

"What did he want?" he asked, sliding over to make room.

I shrugged, stealing a fry from his plate. "Just warning me to play nice with his girlfriend Helen."

Leonard nearly choked on his drink. "What's the deal with his girlfriend? What happened between you two?"

"She's a werewolf too. That bitch seems to really care about Ryder," I said, my voice getting quieter when I mentioned Ryder's name.

"How did you respond?" Logan asked with concern in his voice, leaning forward.

"I said as long as that bitch knows her place, I won't start anything," I replied, wiping my hands with a wet wipe.

"Your reputation should be enough to keep her away," Ama laughed.

"It's not my fault I have a reputation," I said, leaning back in the booth. "One little fight and suddenly I'm the school bad girl."

"Not just a fight," Logan laughed. "You put her in a coma, X."

I felt my lips curl into a smirk. "That bitch needed to know her place."

The memory flashed through my mind—a girl from a neighboring pack who'd thought she could challenge me. I hadn't meant to hurt her that badly, but I wasn't sorry either. In the world of werewolves, respect wasn't given; it was earned.

As night fell and the restaurant began to empty, I stood up. "I think I'll walk home."

Logan immediately shook his head. "No way. It's late, and there've been rogue sightings."

"I can handle myself," I insisted, but the look on my brother's face told me this wasn't a battle worth fighting. "Fine."

We left the restaurant, the cool night air a welcome relief after the stuffy interior. Ama climbed onto the back of Logan's motorcycle while I reluctantly joined Samuel on his.

"Is Martha going to give you trouble for being late?" Samuel asked quietly as he handed me a helmet.

I sighed, wrapping my arms around his waist. "I'll be in trouble either way. Might as well enjoy the night while it lasts."

The ride home was too short. With each mile, the knot in my stomach tightened. Martha would be waiting, I knew it. She never missed an opportunity to make my life hell.

Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to the house. Logan and Samuel went to park the motorcycles in the garage, while I stood at the front door, a foolish part of me hoping she might already be asleep, that I could slip quietly to my room unnoticed.

The moment I stepped inside, Martha was there, as if she'd been waiting by the door. Her small frame seemed to fill the entryway, her eyes hard as she stared me down.

"I'll give you one chance," she said, her voice razor-sharp, "to apologize for your disrespect this afternoon."

I almost laughed at my earlier wishful thinking. Of course this was happening. I was done appeasing her. Submission never worked with Martha; she just took it as permission to push further.

I met her eyes coldly. "I was falsely accused. I don't owe you an apology."

Disbelief flashed across her face. Since I'd entered high school, I'd been fighting back more often. She seemed genuinely shocked that I wouldn't just take her abuse silently anymore, that I refused to be her punching bag.

"You little bitch," she hissed. "You're just like your stupid mother."

The insult struck its target, as it always did. I'd heard these words countless times, but they still ignited a fire in my chest. I kept my voice dangerously low. "You shameless homewrecker, you don't deserve to mention—"

The slap came before I could even draw in a breath, the force of her palm crashing against my cheek with the brutal strength of a wolf's strike. The sound of the impact echoed through the stillness of the house. I hadn’t seen her move—only the searing sting of her claws, the raw power of her werewolf strength, spreading like fire across my face.

"Stupid girl!" she shrieked. "How dare you disrespect me!"

Something in me snapped. All the years of abuse, of watching my father look the other way, of being treated like an unwanted burden in my own home—it all boiled over in one explosive moment. Before I could think, my hand struck out, catching her across the face with enough force to send her stumbling backward.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" My father's thunderous voice filled the room as he appeared from his study, his eyes darting between Martha sprawled on the floor and me standing with my hand still raised.

"She hit me first!" Martha wailed, clutching her cheek dramatically.