Chapter 2: Nice to Meet You!

Briony's POV

Well, as I had expected indeed, after that day, Victoria and her two little lackeys had already started their crazy show of torment.

Last week they "accidentally" knocked over lab equipment in chemistry, leaving me reeking of chemicals all day. During yesterday's endurance test, I took a drink from my water bottle between laps. Immediately, my throat caught fire. My lungs seized as if filled with smoke instead of air. I doubled over gasping, vision tunneling. Through watery eyes, I caught Zoey's smirk from across the track, Victoria beside her looking smug.

"You can visit the nurse," my teacher said flatly, "but today's score stands. Take responsibility for your poor conditioning."

That weekend, my father marched to my room. "I received the notification about your failed assessment. Since you're too lazy to take training seriously, stay home and think about it. No phone, no internet!"

He cut my internet access and confined me to the house for the weekend. From his study below, his lecture on "pack responsibility" droned on for two hours while I sat at my window. Next door, Noah laughed with his friends on a video call.

I miss our old housekeeper. She'd slip cookies or novels onto my windowsill after my father's punishments. Since she left, Noah doesn't need to pretend he cares about me anymore.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, wondering when exactly Noah had turned so cold.

In seventh grade, Noah and I walked the main hallway together - or rather, I trailed behind while he walked ahead with Benjamin, one of the Alpha triplets. This accidental joint journey happened only because we reached the school entrance simultaneously.

"Move those useless legs, fatty," Victoria's voice sliced through the hallway chatter. "Do you know how much space you're taking up?"

I pressed against the wall even though I was already hugging the lockers.

"Looks like some pack members haven't developed basic spatial awareness," she continued, tipping her thermal cup in a perfectly choreographed "accident."

Ice-cold energy drink soaked my shoes and socks. The smell made my nose wrinkle. I jerked back, slipped on the wet floor, and crashed hard into the metal lockers. Conversations stopped as everyone turned to stare.

What hurt most was Noah's reaction. When our eyes met across the hallway, his face showed only irritation and embarrassment. He shook his head, shrugged to his friends as if saying "that's just her," and returned to their conversation without missing a beat.

Not one person thought I deserved a second of sympathy. I'm used to this isolation now.

All high school students attend mandatory 5 AM training before school, learning self-defense regardless of their future plans. Training divides into three tiers as we age: basic for everyone, intermediate for patrol members, and advanced for elite warriors and future pack leaders.

I love training and never miss a session. With Beta blood, I can join all training levels, which drives Noah crazy.

Whenever we lock eyes during advanced sessions, Noah glares like my presence personally offends him.

I don't know why this makes him so angry, and honestly, I don't care. I keep my distance and focus on my work.

I'm one of only two girls attending extra training. The other is a senior who comes solely because her father insists. Her routine is simple: arrive, train, avoid conversation, leave.

Luna Isabella offers guidance during sparring: "Use your size advantage, Briony. Male warriors often underestimate women. When they expect retreat, choose to advance."

It's strange how shortsighted the guys are. They cherish their mates and praise female warriors, yet act like their judgment trumps women's, like they're the true protectors.

Training is my sanctuary from Victoria's crew. They're smart enough not to harass me under future Alphas' watchful eyes. Here I can be myself, blending into the background. Sometimes I dream about joining warrior training camp after graduation.

I've started running Silver Pine patrol routes before morning training or after school when avoiding home. I enjoy learning from patrol warriors about their role as our first line of defense.

My academic record is solid, though that's more from my father's pressure than genuine interest.

Griffin's voice interrupted my thoughts as he gathered everyone to explain today's session.

"We have a new member joining us," he mentioned casually. "Her mother recently married one of our scientists, so she's moved here."

Even Victoria perked up from her sideline seat, where she sat in a tight skirt and heels, clearly planning to skip training as usual.

Still don't understand how she dodges mandatory sessions.

The new girl walked in like she owned the place, her face vibrant, with wavy black hair and bright amber eyes. She seemed my age, but carried herself with natural assurance. Every boy tracked her athletic figure with obvious interest.

Her black sports bra and fitted leggings revealed defined muscles under olive skin. I wore loose sweats and a layered t-shirt with tank underneath.

Experience taught me that without layers, my scars show during intense sparring. These scars were all left behind after each instance of Victoria's bullying. However, she wasn't satisfied with just that, she would even sprinkle silver powder into the wounds - our kind's weakness. The powder burns like acid and prevents my wounds from healing.

Despite these, I don't want pity or fake help. My wolf calls me stubborn, but I refuse assistance from people who ignored my suffering until helping me eased their conscience. They claim I "just needed to ask," when they chose self-preservation over doing right. So I hide my pain.

I prefer invisibility, except in combat. Usually I train at the back with Griffin's assistant warriors. He notices my isolation and ensures I have partners.

I'm actually skilled, despite letting Victoria's crew torment me.

Better they target me than someone who can't handle it. I don't fight back because boring them ends things faster. No retaliation means no trouble, since defensive moves somehow always make the security footage and permanent records.

After my wolf awakened, I once bruised Victoria's ribs for two weeks. Everyone attributed it to Beta blood and a lucky kick. I didn't correct them.

The punishment crushed me. School suspension for a week, plus my father locked me in the basement training room with orders to our housekeeper: "Don't speak to her or give her regular meals."

She disobeyed, ensuring I completed all assignments and didn't fall behind.

Looking at the new girl, I couldn't help smiling, which must have made some noise because she turned directly toward me.

She approached with outstretched hand. "I'm Layla. Nice to meet you."

I stared blankly, momentarily forgetting basic social skills. Her raised eyebrow snapped me back to reality.

"Sorry, I'm Briony," I stammered. "I'm not used to people talking to me."

I shook her hand quickly before turning awkwardly toward Griffin and the head trainer giving instructions.

Way to sound like a complete weirdo, Bri.