Chapter 3 SCHOOL STRUGGLES

BELLATRIX'S POV

I slid into my seat at the very back of the Strategy and Tactics classroom. The desk was scarred with carvings from students decades ago, but I had added my own: a small, hidden wolf head with its teeth bared, tucked away in the corner where no one would notice.

"Look at her," a voice hissed from three rows ahead. It was Maya, one of Clara’s inner circle. "She sits back there like she’s some kind of brooding hero in a tragedy. Someone should tell her she’s just a Beta with a hygiene problem."

I really have no idea why they are so concerned about my hygiene when I'm perfectly fine. I don't know how they were blessed with such stupid brains. They think that sweating after training means that I have a hygiene problem.

"Shh," another girl whispered, though her voice was loud enough to carry. 

"Don't let her hear you. She’ll probably try to challenge you to a duel in the mud. It’s the only way she knows how to communicate."

I opened my notebook, my jaw tight. I didn't give them the satisfaction of a glance. I could feel Lorena sitting beside me, her presence a warm, steady anchor in the sea of toxicity.

"Ignore them, Bella," Lorena murmured, sketching a crude caricature of our teacher in her own margins. "They have the collective IQ of a bucket of pond water."

"It’s not the IQ that bothers me," I whispered back. "It’s the noise."

“Oh Maya. Have you taken the time to think about why Oben didnt fuck you after that day? Its because he claimed you have this disgustingly foul scent that made his dick flap before he could fuck you. But then, he had to think about someone's face in order to get hard. And, you have the audacity to tell Bellatrix that she has hygiene problems? Why don't you go to the pack doctor and have her examine your pussy” Lorena retorted, her comeback sharp as ever.

“You….you…You are telling lies. How did you know I fucked Oben?” Maya croaked.

“You thought you were some special species of pussy. Didn’t you?” Lorena sneered and turneed back to focus on her work. 

Before Maya could retort, the door creaked open, and Mr. Thorne, an elder Beta with a limp from an old border skirmish, walked in. He was one of the few who didn't openly sneer at me, but he didn't protect me either. He looked at the world through the lens of cold, hard utility.

"Settle down," Thorne barked, slamming a heavy tome onto the podium. "Today, we discuss the Siege of Silvercreek. We will be analyzing the formation of the defensive line. Alpha Nightshade, if you would join us?"

The room somehow became cold at once, and u dont know if i was the only one who felt it or not. It was subtle, but whenever Ronan moved, the gravity of the room moved with him. He walked to the front, the sunlight catching the dark highlights in his hair. He looked every bit the future King. He was confident, powerful, and utterly convinced of his own right to rule.

"The defensive line failed because the Betas on the left flank broke formation," Ronan began, his voice deep and authoritative. He pointed to a map on the board. "They lacked the discipline to hold against a superior Alpha force. If I had been leading, I would have put the Betas on the front lines as fodder to buy the Alphas time to flank."

My hand was up before I could think.

Thorne sighed. "Yes, Bellatrix?"

The room went silent. Even Ronan turned, his brown eyes narrowing as they landed on me.

"That’s a suicide mission, not a strategy," I said, my voice steady despite the thudding of my heart. "The Betas didn't break because they lacked discipline. They broke because the Alpha leading them didn't provide enough cover. If you use your strongest support as 'fodder,' you lose your backbone. Once the Betas are gone, your Alphas are surrounded. And besides, a real leader doesn't sacrifice his people to save his own skin; he coordinates them so no one has to be fodder."

A few students gasped. In this pack, questioning an Alpha’s tactical instinct was borderline heresy.

Ronan stepped toward my desk, his shadow stretching long across the wood. "It’s easy to talk about 'coordination' when you’re sitting safely in the back of a classroom, Bellatrix. But in the heat of a blood-feud, you need winners. And winners make hard choices. Maybe you just don't have the stomach for what it takes to lead."

"Maybe you just don't have the brains to lead without a body count," I shot back.

"Enough!" Thorne snapped. "Bellatrix, that’s a demerit for disrespect. Ronan, continue."

I sank back into my seat, my face burning. I could see Clara across the room. She didn't look angry; she looked sad, the fake type of sad. She turned in her seat, casting a pitiable glance toward the teacher.

"Mr. Thorne?" Clara said, her voice soft and trembling. "Please don't be too hard on my sister. She’s had a very stressful morning at home. She doesn't mean to be so... rebellious. She just has a lot of misplaced anger."

The class let out a collective "aww."

"You're too good to her, Clara," Sarah whispered loudly.

"Truly a saint," Maya added.

I felt like I was being choked by invisible silk. Clara wasn't attacking me with fists; she was attacking me with 'kindness,' wrapping her betrayals in the scent of roses so that when I fought back, I looked like the monster. 

It was her specialty, the Lotus Flower technique. Act innocent, act hurt, and let the world stone the person you hate on your behalf. I was surprised she hasn't gone to the city to apply in order to become an actress because I know she'd definitely win an Oscar.

The rest of the school day was a blur of shoved shoulders in the hallways and "accidental" spills of ink on my notes. 

During lunch, I sat under a dead oak tree at the edge of the property, tearing into a dry piece of bread I’d swiped from breakfast.

"You really need to learn when to shut up," Lorena said, dropping down beside me. 

She handed me an apple. "Eat that. You look like you're about to faint and then haunt me in the ass"