Chapter 6

Xena’s POV

The dam broke. "I just walked in and she slapped me!" I shouted, feeling hot tears spring to my eyes. "I'm sick of this! I'm sick of being disrespected by someone who isn't even my mother! I hate it here! The day I turn eighteen, I'm gone, and you'll never see me again!"

I spun on my heel and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. My lip was split, I could taste blood, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the rage coursing through my veins.

I stalked over to the punching bag hanging in the corner of my room, my hands trembling with fury. I started slamming my fists into it with relentless force, each punch driving the anger deeper inside me.

I didn’t stop, not even when the skin on my knuckles tore open, the blood oozing out with every hit. The pain in my joints only fueled me further, the searing throb from my broken knuckles sending waves of torment through my body. But still, I kept going, the sobs swallowed whole by my fury.

I didn't hear the door open, but suddenly strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides.

"X, calm down!" Logan's voice in my ear was firm but gentle. "Calm down, sis. I'm sorry."

I struggled against his grip for a moment before going limp, the fight draining out of me. Leonard and Samuel stood by the door, their expressions a mixture of anger and concern.

"Ama went home," Logan said, releasing me slowly. "Take a shower and get some sleep."

Samuel walked up and grabbed my chin, turning my face toward him to examine my cheek.

"It's nothing," I said coldly, jerking my head out of his hand.

"You should talk to dad in the morning," Logan suggested softly.

Dad? It's useless talking to him no matter how many times we try. He simply can't really solve this problem.

I nodded numbly, too emotionally exhausted to argue. "Yeah, I will." I glanced at Logan, whose eyes were full of concern. "I'm kinda tired. Good night," I managed to force a slight smile for Logan and Samuel.

The two of them exchanged looks, then nodded. Samuel walked to the door, gave me one last glance, and gently pulled it closed behind him.

I took a deep breath, dragging myself to the bathroom exhausted. Thirty minutes later, a hot shower hadn't improved my mood much.

Just then my phone buzzed. I checked it to find a text from Ama.

Are you okay?

I typed back quickly: Yeah, I'm fine.

Her response was immediate: Don't believe you, but we'll talk tomorrow. Maybe Samuel can make you feel better? ;)

Despite everything, I felt a small smile tug at my lips as I replied: Good night.

I woke up early, my body still aching from yesterday's confrontation with Martha. Touching my jaw gently, I winced at the tenderness. The mirror revealed a faint bruise forming—nothing too bad, but enough that I'd need to cover it.

Quickly, I braided my hair to the side, applying just enough makeup to hide the evidence of last night. I slipped into a flowy pair of shorts and a black bodysuit, grabbing my sandals before heading toward Dad's office. I knew Martha would still be sleeping, which meant Dad would be alone.

I knocked three times.

"Come in," his deep voice commanded from the other side.

I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me. "Hi, Dad," I said, sitting in the chair across from his massive desk. When it was just the two of us, I didn't have to be as formal.

"Xena, what is it?" He looked tired, the weight of leading our pack etched into the lines of his face.

"She's making my life hell," I said, my voice quiet but steady. "Just because I look like Mom. I literally just walked in the door and she attacked me. I know I shouldn't have hit her back, but I'm tired of being her punching bag." I said calmly.

Dad's expression hardened. "Are you planning to leave when you turn eighteen?"

"Yes, I can't live with her anymore," I admitted.

"You know you can't go around hitting Martha," he began, slipping into lecture-mode.

"Just once, could you be my dad? Actually listen to what I'm saying?" I interrupted, frustration bubbling up inside me.

"Xena, you know I love you," he sighed.

I stood up, my back straight. "Alpha, please just give me my punishment so I can get to school?" If he wouldn't be the father I needed, I wouldn't call him Dad.

"Don't be like that," he said, disappointment clouding his features.

A knock at the door saved me from responding. The door opened before my father could answer, and Samuel's father appeared. "Sorry, I can come back later..."

"I need to get to school," I said, looking at my father.

"This conversation isn't over," he said as I turned to leave.

"Yes, sir," I responded coldly.

I rushed out of his office and headed straight for the garage. Grabbing my helmet and keys, I swung my leg over my motorcycle and roared away before anyone could stop me.

The wind whipped through my hair at the edges of my helmet, and for those brief moments, I felt free. In my hurry, I'd forgotten gloves, and my scabbed knuckles were visible for everyone to see. They looked worse than they felt.

Since I'd left so early, the school parking lot was nearly empty. After parking my bike, I wandered over to one of the picnic tables and sat down. I pulled out my sketchbook, put my headphones on, and blasted some classic rock while losing myself in my art. I liked having plenty of my own designs of spray painting ready for customers to choose from.

I was working on a phoenix, its wings spread wide with flames surrounding it. I was so focused on getting the shading just right that I didn't notice Samuel approaching.

When he tapped my shoulder, I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Jesus Christ!"

He sat down across from me, and I watched his eyes catalog my split lip and bruised knuckles. It made me uncomfortable. "You okay?" he asked.

"As good as ever," I replied, putting my music away.

"Xena." The use of my full name told me he was serious.

I put down my pencil and met his gaze. "What do you want me to say? That I'm fine? That I'm great? That I'm fucking miserable? Is it too much to ask for a father who's willing to stand up for me?"

The sudden outburst seemed to catch Samuel off guard for a moment, but he quickly broke into a smile.

I was getting worked up again. Samuel reached across the table and took my hand in his.

"It's okay. I wish I could take your pain away."

It sounded intimate. "Logan will take over in seven years," I sighed, steering the conversation away from whatever was happening between us.

"Your birthday's coming up. What if your mate is in this pack?" We’ve talked about how we might be mates, but I still feel like something’s off.

"School's over in a few months. Maybe he'll be into vacations," I said with a forced smile.

"What if he can't leave?" He was talking about himself, and he was right. Once Logan turned eighteen, his alpha training would intensify, meaning I'd barely see him. It also meant Samuel and Leonard would be just as busy.

"I'll send postcards," I replied, my voice lighter than I felt.