Chapter 2
Ryder’s POV
“Psst… Ryder. Wake up. Come on, man.”
I blinked. Pain roared back like a tidal wave. Chester’s voice was faint but urgent as he shook me gently.
“Ryder, you’ve got to move before someone finds us again.”
My ribs screamed in protest as I tried to sit up. “Ugh… remind me never to get on their radar again.”
“You live on their radar,” Chester muttered, then sighed. “Come on. Can you walk?”
“Not unless you carry me,” I croaked.
Chester grimaced. “Suppressant shot. Just took it this morning. I’m too drained to even carry a water bottle.”
Suppressants. Curse them. They made us look bloated, sluggish… human. But worse, for a short time after each dose, we were weak. Vulnerable.
“Great timing,” I mumbled.
“You’re lucky I even found you. I came to check when you didn’t return after class and got jumped on the way out.” Chester winced, holding his side.
“They got you too?” I asked, guilt twisting in my chest.
“Yeah. Same gang. They didn’t like me snooping around.”
I dragged myself upright, hand gripping the edge of the sink like a lifeline. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Chester said with a crooked smile. “We’ve faced worse. Remember the scorpion pit back home?”
“Don’t bring that up,” I groaned, but a chuckle escaped anyway.
He helped me stumble to the door. “A few more months. Then we’re out of here.”
He was always the optimistic one. Even after being beaten to a pulp.
I nodded. “Teleport?”
“Please.”
I summoned the last of my strength and blinked us into a quiet hallway outside our class.
The corridor was suspiciously empty.
“Wait…” Chester looked around. “Where’s everyone?”
We pushed the door open—and froze.
The Dark Gang stood inside, smirking like cats who’d cornered their prey. They had our bags.
Not again.
“Shame you missed the memo,” the leader smirked. “Professor cancelled class. Guess you’re late to the party.”
“Give us our bags,” I said coldly.
“Oh?” The leader stepped forward. “Getting bold, Fatso?”
I clenched my jaw. They were enjoying this. Every second of it.
One stepped closer and, without warning, struck me across the face.
“Don’t look at me like that,” they spat. “You think you're brave now?”
Another hit.
Behind me, Chester was being shoved around too. I could see the tension building in his shoulders.
But I… I didn’t lift a hand.
I didn’t fight back.
Because deep down, in that whirlwind of shame and fury, something else churned. Pity. Not for myself—but for them.
Especially the leader.
There was pain behind those eyes. A kind of sorrow only the broken carry.
Still, I grabbed Chester’s arm and pulled him away. “Let them keep the bags.”
“You serious?” he whispered.
I nodded. “Let’s go.”
We teleported to Aunt Nyssa’s training academy. The second we landed, we dropped the disguise and let our wolves heal the damage.
Bones realigned. Bruises faded.
Chester stared at me in disbelief. “What the hell was that?”
“What?” I asked, wiping blood from my cheek.
“You let them humiliate us — again. You didn’t fight back. And don’t say it was for the pack.”
I looked at him, tired beyond words. “It wasn’t just for the pack.”
“Oh no,” Chester growled. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for that leader. Don’t tell me you think they’re lashing out because of some tragic childhood.”
“Maybe they are,” I said quietly. “Maybe there’s more behind those eyes than just hate.”
Chester slammed his hand on the bench. “Ryder, listen to me. That leader? They’re not broken. They’re not a victim. They’re celebrated. Feared. Worshipped. And they choose to hurt people.”
I didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Not because I agreed, but because… I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“Forget it,” Chester muttered. “Let’s eat before training.”
We made our way to the cafeteria. He was still fuming. I was still aching.
And somewhere deep inside me… a strange tug of fate had begun to unravel.
Something about that leader’s gaze haunted me.
Not just rage. Not just pride.
There was something else—hidden behind the mask.
A flicker of something I couldn’t name yet.
But soon, I would.
And it would change everything.