THE ALPHA WHO HATED ME - Chapter 21: Chapter 21

EVANGELINE POINT OF VIEW
The auditorium is packed.
Every seat is filled with students chattering excitedly about the mandatory assembly. Teachers line the walls like guards, their faces stern as they watch for troublemakers. The air smells like old books and teenage anxiety.
I sit in the back row, trying to disappear into my chair. Three seats separate me from the next student. Nobody wants to sit near the girl who dared to hit Celeste Hartwell.
My hands shake as I grip the edge of my seat. The crescent mark on my wrist pulses with heat that I can feel through my long sleeves. My wolf paces restlessly inside my mind, sensing danger even though I can't see it yet.
The stage at the front of the auditorium gleams under bright lights. A podium stands in the center, waiting for today's speaker. Waiting for Celeste.
Principal Morrison walks onto the stage first. Her heels click against the wooden floor in sharp, precise sounds that echo through the large space.
"Good morning, students," she says into the microphone. Her voice carries to every corner of the room.
A few scattered responses echo back. Most students are too busy talking to pay attention.
"Today we have a special presentation from one of our outstanding seniors," she continues. "Miss Celeste Hartwell will be speaking to us about kindness and respect in our school community."
Kindness and respect. The irony makes my stomach turn.
Students around me straighten up. Some actually applaud. The mention of Celeste's name always gets this reaction. Like she's some kind of celebrity instead of just another student.
"Please give her your full attention," Principal Morrison adds before stepping away from the podium.
The auditorium lights dim slightly. All attention focuses on the stage.
Celeste emerges from the wings like she was born for this moment. She wears a pristine white dress that makes her look angelic under the spotlights. Her blonde hair falls in perfect waves around her shoulders. Her makeup is flawless, hiding any trace of yesterday's confrontation.
She looks like everything I'll never be. Perfect. Untouchable. Powerful.
The applause that greets her is thunderous. Students cheer and whistle. Some actually stand up. The sound crashes over me in waves that make my head pound.
Celeste smiles and waves, eating up the attention like she needs it to survive. Her blue eyes scan the crowd until they find me in the back row.
For just a moment, her perfect smile turns sharp. Predatory.
Then it's back to sweet innocence as she approaches the microphone.
"Thank you so much," she says, her voice honey-smooth through the speakers. "It's such an honor to speak to all of you today."
More applause. More cheering. More proof that everyone in this school worships her.
"I want to talk to you about something very important," she continues once the noise dies down. "Something that affects all of us every single day."
She pauses dramatically. Lets the silence build.
"Respect," she says finally. "And how we treat each other in our school community."
Nods ripple through the audience. Students lean forward, hanging on her every word.
"We are all part of the Blackclaw Academy family," Celeste continues. "From the most promising future leaders to the... less fortunate among us."
The way she says 'less fortunate' makes my skin crawl. Like she's talking about stray dogs instead of students.
"But sometimes," she goes on, "people forget their place in our community. They forget the natural order that keeps our school running smoothly."
My wolf starts growling inside my mind. She can sense what's coming even if I can't see it yet.
"They forget that respect must be earned, not demanded," Celeste's voice gets slightly louder. "That kindness is a gift, not a right."
She pauses again. Lets her words sink in.
"Yesterday, I witnessed something very disturbing," she says, her voice taking on a tone of deep concern. "An act of violence that shocked me to my core."
The auditorium goes completely silent. Students exchange glances. Everyone knows she's talking about our fight.
"I was trying to help a fellow student," she continues. "Someone who seemed to be struggling. Someone who clearly needed guidance."
My face burns with shame. She's telling the story her way. Making herself the victim and me the aggressor.
"But instead of accepting help with grace and gratitude, this student chose violence."
Whispers start rippling through the crowd. Soft at first, then growing louder.
"She attacked me."
"No way."
"Who would do that?"
"To Celeste?"
"I tried to understand," Celeste says, her voice breaking slightly. "I tried to forgive. But I realized something important."
She looks directly at me. Every eye in the auditorium follows her gaze.
I meet her stare and don't blink. Don't look away. If I let her see me flinch, she wins again.
My wolf stirs slightly in the back of my mind. Not much. Just enough to remind me she's still there.
"Sometimes, when people feel small and powerless, they lash out at those who are trying to help them."
More whispers. Louder now. Students turn in their seats to stare at me.
"It's not their fault, really," Celeste continues with fake sympathy. "When you come from... difficult circumstances... when you don't have proper role models... it's easy to confuse kindness with weakness."
My hands clench into fists. She's talking about my dead parents again. About my background. About everything that makes me different.
"But we must remember," she says, her voice rising with passion, "that true strength comes from knowing your place. From accepting help when it's offered. From showing gratitude instead of entitlement."
The whispers have become a low roar. Students point openly now. Some pull out their phones to record my reaction.
"Violence is never the answer," Celeste declares. "No matter how... inadequate... someone might feel."
Inadequate. The word hits like a physical blow.
"We must show compassion for those who don't understand our ways. Who haven't been raised with proper values."
I can feel hundreds of eyes on me. Feel the weight of their judgment and pity and disgust.
"But we must also protect ourselves," she continues. "We cannot allow our kindness to be mistaken for weakness. We cannot let troubled individuals drag down our entire community."
My wolf is snarling now. Pacing frantically. She wants to fight. Wants to show teeth and claws and make this girl pay for every word.
But then her fury shifts to something else. Something that feels like grief. Like she's mourning what we just lost — dignity, maybe. Or the last shred of protection we had left.
I force myself to stay in my seat. To endure this public execution.
"So I ask you all," Celeste says, spreading her arms wide like she's embracing the entire auditorium, "to join me in showing patience and understanding. Even for those who strike out in their pain."
She pauses. Looks directly at me again.
"Even for those who bite the hands that try to feed them."
The crowd erupts. Not in applause this time. In whispers and gasps and the sick excitement that comes from watching someone get destroyed in public.
"Thank you," Celeste says with a brilliant smile. "Let's all try to be a little kinder to each other. Even when kindness isn't returned."
The applause that follows is deafening. Students leap to their feet. Teachers nod approvingly. Principal Morrison beams like Celeste just solved world hunger.
And through it all, I sit frozen in my chair while every person in the school stares at me with a mixture of pity and disgust.
Celeste has done exactly what she promised. She's reminded everyone of their place. Shown them what happens when someone like me tries to rise above their station.
I look toward the section where the senior boys sit. Where I know Ronan is watching this whole thing unfold.
He's there in the third row, his gray eyes fixed on the stage. His face shows nothing. No anger at what Celeste just did. No sympathy for me. Nothing.
He just sits there like a statue while his fiancé destroys me in front of everyone.
The applause finally dies down. Celeste takes one more bow before walking off the stage with her head high and her smile victorious.
Principal Morrison returns to the podium. "Thank you, Miss Hartwell, for that inspiring message. Let's all take her words to heart as we move forward together as a community."
Students start filing out of the auditorium. But instead of the usual chaos of everyone trying to leave at once, they move slowly. Deliberately. Making sure to get a good look at me as they pass.
Some whisper to their friends. Others just stare. A few actually laugh.
I see familiar faces among them. A girl from my Chemistry class who I once helped with homework giggles as she points me out to her boyfriend. A quiet sophomore who used to sit near me at lunch now scoots past with her eyes averted, like my shame might be contagious.
Near the exit, a young omega girl watches me with wide, terrified eyes. She sees her own future in my downfall. Sees what happens when someone like us forgets their place.
I remain in my seat until the auditorium is almost empty. Until the whispers fade and the footsteps disappear and I'm left alone with the echoes of my public humiliation.
The crescent mark on my wrist burns like fire.
My wolf has gone completely silent. Not the peaceful quiet of sleep. The terrible quiet of something that's been beaten down so many times it's forgotten how to fight back.
I finally stand on shaking legs and walk toward the exit. Each step echoes in the empty space like gunshots.
At the door, I turn back to look at the stage where Celeste delivered her perfect performance. Where she turned my pain into her triumph.
Tomorrow, everyone will remember this speech. They'll remember how gracious and forgiving she was. How mature and wise.
And they'll remember me as the violent, ungrateful omega who attacked someone trying to help her.
The perfect victim and the perfect villain.
Exactly the way she planned it.
But as I walk out into the hallway, something shifts inside me. The terrible quiet of my wolf transforms into something else.
Something that feels like the calm before a storm.
The quiet isn't surrender. It's evolution. The kind that comes before teeth grow sharp and claws find their edge.
Celeste thinks she's won. Thinks she's reminded everyone of their place in her perfect hierarchy.
Let them celebrate their victory. Let them believe I'm broken.
She has no idea that some storms can't be predicted.
Some forces can't be controlled.
And some wolves don't stay quiet forever.
Because when I rise.... and I will.... no one will see it coming.
Not even her.