THE ALPHA WHO HATED ME - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

EVANGELINE POINT OF VIEW
Wednesday morning feels different.
I walk through the school doors with my head held higher than usual. The crescent mark on my wrist tingles under my long sleeves. My wolf stirs restlessly in my mind, no longer the quiet whisper she used to be.
Students still stare as I pass. Still whisper behind their hands. But something has shifted. Maybe it's the way I carry myself. Maybe it's the new awareness humming under my skin.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm no longer just Evangeline.
I'm Lunara too.
History class starts like any other day. Mr. Peterson drones on about ancient wars while most students check their phones under their desks. I sit in my usual spot at the back, taking notes and trying to focus on anything except the memories of yesterday's humiliation.
The classroom door opens twenty minutes into the lesson.
Celeste walks in like she owns the place.
She doesn't knock. Doesn't apologize for interrupting. Just glides through the doorway with Madison, Sarah, and Emma trailing behind her like loyal shadows.
Mr. Peterson stops mid-sentence. "Miss Hartwell. You're late."
"Sorry," Celeste says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Student council meeting ran long."
It's a lie. Everyone knows it's a lie. But Mr. Peterson just nods and waves her toward an empty seat.
Except Celeste doesn't go to the empty seats at the front. She walks straight toward the back of the classroom. Straight toward me.
My wolf tenses. Ready.
Celeste stops at the desk directly in front of mine. The seat has been empty all semester. Nobody wants to sit near the pathetic omega.
But now she settles into it with careful grace. Her friends arrange themselves around us like we're the center of some invisible circle.
"Evangeline," she says sweetly, turning in her chair to face me. "How are you feeling today?"
The question sounds innocent. Concerned. But her blue eyes are cold as winter ice.
"Fine," I whisper.
"Really? You look tired. Like you didn't sleep well."
She's right. After the dream, after seeing my white wolf, sleep felt impossible. But I'm not about to tell her that.
"I'm fine," I repeat.
"That's good to hear." Celeste reaches into her bag and pulls out a water bottle. "You know, hydration is so important. Especially when you're stressed."
She unscrews the cap slowly. Deliberately. Making sure I'm watching.
"Sometimes," she continues, "people need help remembering to take care of themselves."
And then she tips the bottle over.
Cold water crashes down on my head. Soaks through my hair. Runs down my face and neck. Drips onto my notes and textbook.
Gasps echo through the classroom. Students turn in their seats to stare. Some pull out their phones.
I sit there dripping. Shocked. Humiliated.
Again.
"Oops," Celeste says with fake concern. "How clumsy of me."
My wolf snarls inside my mind. She wants blood. Wants to show teeth and claws and make this girl pay for every drop of water.
But I force her down. Force myself to stay calm.
"It's okay," I manage to say.
"Oh, but your poor books are all wet," Madison adds with mock sympathy. "What a shame."
"Maybe she should clean that up," Sarah suggests. "Before it ruins someone else's things."
I reach for the tissues on my desk. Start dabbing at the water. Try to salvage what I can of my notes.
"You know," Celeste says conversationally, "it's really too bad about your family situation."
I freeze. My hand stops moving.
"I mean, being all alone in the world like that. No parents to teach you how to behave properly."
The words hit like physical blows. My chest tightens.
"It's not your fault, really," she continues. "How could you know better? When you don't have proper role models growing up?"
"Stop," I whisper.
"I'm just saying, some people are born into good families. Families that matter. Families that teach them their place in the world."
My hands start shaking. The crescent mark on my wrist burns like fire.
"And some people," Celeste's voice drops lower, "are born to nobody. From nobody. The children of failures who couldn't even stay alive long enough to raise them properly."
Something inside me snaps.
Not breaks. Snaps. Like a chain that's been pulled too tight finally giving way.
My hand moves before my brain can stop it. Before I can think about consequences or rules or the fact that nobody fights Celeste Hartwell.
The slap echoes through the classroom like a gunshot.
Celeste's head snaps to the side. Her perfect blonde hair flies across her face. A red handprint blooms on her cheek.
The room goes completely silent.
For a moment, nobody moves. Nobody breathes. We all stare at each other in shock.
Then Celeste's face twists with rage. Pure, undiluted fury that transforms her beautiful features into something ugly.
"You bitch," she snarls.
She lunges at me.
But I'm ready. My wolf is ready. We move together, faster than I've ever moved before.
I catch her wrists before she can scratch my face. Push her back with strength I didn't know I had.
She stumbles. Actually stumbles. The perfect, untouchable queen of Blackclaw Academy loses her balance.
"How dare you," she hisses.
She comes at me again. This time with claws extended. Real claws. Her wolf pushing through just enough to be dangerous.
But mine is stronger.
I grab her shoulders and shove her backward. Hard. She crashes into the desk behind her with a sound that makes everyone wince.
The impact sends a shock of satisfaction through me. For the first time in months, I'm not the one getting hurt. I'm not helpless. The feeling is intoxicating.
But underneath the satisfaction, fear creeps in. Is this still me? Or is it the wolf taking control?
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" someone starts chanting.
Other students join in. The classroom erupts in chaos. Chairs scrape against the floor as people scramble to get a better view.
Celeste rights herself and charges again. But she's sloppy now. Angry. Not thinking clearly.
I sidestep her easily. Grab her arm and twist it behind her back. Not enough to break anything. Just enough to make her gasp.
"Let go of me," she snarls.
"Apologize," I say quietly.
"Never."
I twist a little harder. "Apologize for talking about my parents."
"Your parents were nothing. Just like you." She pauses, then leans closer to whisper: "You don't even know what you are, do you? No wonder your parents died."
The words hit like ice water. There's something behind them. Knowledge. Secrets.
But before I can ask what she means, my wolf roars inside my mind. For a moment, I see red. Feel the urge to hurt her. Really hurt her.
But I don't. Instead, I spin her around and push her away from me.
She staggers. Catches herself against a desk. Stares at me with something I've never seen in her eyes before.
Fear.
Not much. Just a flicker. But it's there.
Around us, students are going crazy. Nobody can believe what they're seeing. An omega—the weakest omega in school—just overpowered a Beta. Just made Celeste Hartwell look helpless.
"She's strong," someone whispers.
"How is she that strong?"
"Omegas aren't supposed to be able to do that."
"Did you see how fast she moved?"
Madison and Sarah try to help Celeste, but she shoves them away. Her face is flushed with embarrassment and rage.
"This isn't over," she hisses at me.
"Yes, it is," I say calmly. "It's over when you leave my parents out of your mouth."
"What is going on here?"
Mr. Peterson's voice cuts through the chaos. He pushes through the crowd of students, his face red with anger.
"Both of you, separate. Now."
I step back willingly. Put my hands up to show I'm not a threat.
Celeste straightens her uniform with shaking hands. Tries to compose herself. But the red mark on her cheek tells the whole story.
"Miss Hartwell, Miss Cross. Principal's office. Both of you."
"She attacked me," Celeste says immediately. "I was just sitting there and she went crazy."
"That's not what I saw," Jessica calls out from across the room. "Celeste poured water on her first."
"And she said horrible things about Evangeline's parents," another student adds.
"She started it," someone else confirms.
Celeste's face goes even redder. She's not used to people turning against her. Not used to being the villain in front of an audience.
"I don't care who started it," Mr. Peterson snaps. "I'm finishing it. Principal's office. Now."
We walk to the door in silence. But I can feel every eye in the classroom following us. Can hear the whispered conversations starting up behind us.
In the hallway, Celeste finally loses her composure.
"You have no idea what you've done," she says in a voice like poison. "No idea what's coming for you."
"I defended myself."
"You humiliated me. In front of everyone."
"You humiliated yourself."
She stops walking and grabs my arm. Her nails dig into my skin through my sleeve.
"Listen carefully," she whispers. "I am going to destroy you. I'm going to make your life so miserable that you'll beg to transfer schools. You'll wish you had never been born."
I look down at her hand on my arm. Then back up at her face.
"Let go of me."
Something in my voice makes her step back. Makes her release her grip.
"This isn't over," she repeats.
"No," I agree. "It's not."
But as we continue toward the principal's office, I'm not afraid anymore.
The hallway feels longer than usual. Like we're walking toward something more important than detention.
When we reach the office, Principal Morrison is waiting. She looks up when we enter, and her expression isn't surprise.
It's recognition.
Like she's been waiting for this moment. For me.
For the first time since I arrived at this school, I'm not the one running away.
I'm not the victim.
And Celeste Hartwell finally knows she's not untouchable.
The white wolf inside me isn't quiet anymore.