Chapter 5 Chapter 5
Amber
My phone vibrated in my hands as I walked down the corridor with Nat. She was excited about me being the face of Belgrave sports this season, but I didn't need anyone to tell me the students hated the idea.
I opened the message icon. It was a text from Nat telling me not to mind the glares from the students.
Right. The stares felt like a hot laser burning through my head. I raised my head and just smiled back to assure her I was doing okay. It wasn't the first time people had stared at me.
Just then, a clean, expensive brand shoe blocked my path. I looked up to see Prisca Golden standing right in front of me. Three girls from the Elite cheer squad flanked her.
Prisca's chin tilted high, her gaze sweeping down over me with blatant disgust. Then her eyes shifted to Nat, whose brows were furrowed.
"What the hell is this, Prisca?" Nat mouthed.
Oh, Prisca was definitely here for trouble. My fingers tightened around the edges of my phone.
Prisca's gaze fell on my phone, a cruel smile stretching across her face. Before I could even raise it to type, her hand shot forward and snatched the phone right from my grip.
Nat lunged forward, her hands reaching out to grab it back. "Give it back!"
One of Prisca’s friends shoved Nat's shoulder hard, sending her stumbling back against the wall.
My chest tightened. I tried to step in, but the other two girls blocked me, pinning me against the cold wall.
Prisca didn't even look up at the commotion. Her thumbs slammed violently against my screen, typing with rapid, aggressive strokes. The surrounding students crowded closer, their faces twisted in eager anticipation.
With a final, sharp tap, Prisca turned the screen around and shoved it directly in front of my face.
A wolfless mute representing the face of Belgrave sports? You are a pathetic freak, Amber. Go back to the shacks where you belong.
The words burned into my eyes. Prisca leaned in, her face inches from mine, her eyes full of malicious triumph. She let her hand drop, letting my phone clatter onto the hard floor at my feet.
My jaw clenched so tight the muscles ached. The humiliation turned into a white-hot spark of rage. I wanted to tear her apart, but a physical fight with a pureblood would get the Mavericks dissolved by noon.
Prisca suddenly froze, her cruel smirk faltering as her eyes flicked to something behind me. The eager expressions on the surrounding students vanished.
Ryker was suddenly just there beside me. He took one sharp step forward, invading Prisca's space, his lips moving in a slow, lethal cadence that I could read perfectly.
“Leave her and get the hell out of here,” he mouthed, his dark eyes fixed completely on hers. “Don't ever touch her again.”
Prisca’s face completely drained of color. Her lips parted, her jaw working as she recovered from the initial shock. She didn't back down. Instead, she took a sharp step closer to him, her hands gesturing wildly toward me, then toward herself.
Her lips moved fast, her voice loud enough I could hear the words faintly, her face contorting with rage. Are you serious, Ryker? You are siding with this freak?
Ryker didn't move. He just stood there, his face completely expressionless, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. He didn't blink as she yelled right in his face.
We have been the face of Belgrave sports all season! Prisca's lips moved in an aggressive, furious rhythm. Look at her! She is a wolfless misfit! Why are you letting the Dean replace me with someone like that? It makes no sense! She doesn't belong on our stage!
Nat finally found her footing. She moved past the Elite cheerleaders, her shoulder catching one of them out of the way, and stepped right next to me. She laced her arm tightly through mine. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, our eyes locked onto the scene unfolding in front of us.
Prisca was still screaming, her fingers digging into the air as she tried to force a reaction out of him. You're an Elite, Ryker! Act like it! Tell the Dean this is a joke!
Ryker slowly tilted his head. His eyes grew darker, a dangerous stillness settling over his frame. His lips moved in a slow, precise manner, ensuring she saw every single syllable.
“Go fix it with the Dean,” he mouthed coldly. “And get the hell out of my sight.”
Prisca stared at him, her chest heaving, completely stunned by the absolute dismissal. She looked around at the silent hallway, utterly humiliated. The surrounding students were all watching her, their smirks gone, replaced by wide, uncomfortable stares.
Her lips parted to argue again, but Ryker’s expression only grew colder. He raised his arm from his pocket, pointing aggressively toward the exit.
Prisca swallowed hard, her knuckles turning white as she balled her hands into fists. She shot me one last look of pure hatred before she turned on her heel and marched away, her cheer squad scrambling to follow behind her. The rest of the crowd quickly scattered, fleeing down the corridor to get out of his line of sight before he snapped.
Within seconds, the hallway was completely empty.
I stood there, my back pressed against the wall, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
Why would the arrogant Elite Team captain risk his entire reputation to protect me? Is this another one of his psycho moves to make me thank him again?
