Chapter 3 Episode 3

Skylar's Pov

"You can't be serious." Mira says, her eyes still wide with shock as we stroll out the student car park.

"My dad's lost it and I am so done." I heave.

"Did the council approve?" Mira asks, her voice dropping lower like she's afraid someone might overhear.

"He'd find a way around it. I'm moving to the dorms." I say, my jaw set, my mind already made up.

"What?" She stops walking, her hand reaching out to grab my arm.

"I'm not going to stay in with his new family, he can go to hell. I'm moving to the dorms, he probably wouldn't care anyways." I shrug her hand off and keep walking, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

"Why don't you stay at my place until it all cools down?" She offers, falling back into step beside me.

"Your roommate's a bitch, I'll be fine. I'm the Alpha's daughter, remember?" I shrug, forcing a smirk onto my face. "I can get a room in the private suite. It's not like they're going to say no to me."

We get to the hall way towards our arts class, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, just as a pair of strong hands hold my waist, gently nudging me aside as a long banner rolls down in the middle of the hall with a loud rustle of fabric against the polished floor.

"Richardson College @100" It reads in bold gold letters against a deep blue background.

I frown, ready to glare down at the bastard who mustered that audacity to touch me without permission, my lips already parting to unleash a string of curses, but he's moving with a brisk sorry, a camera around his neck as he shakes hands with our Dean down the hall, his shoulders broad and his movements easy.

I freeze, my body heating up as my wolf, Astrid starts turning and tossing inside me, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Perhaps it's a trance but he's quite tall, his tall frame covered in a crisp white shirt and jacket down to baggy jeans as he smiles at something the Dean says, lashes fluttering from his well sculptured face, cheekbones sharp and jaw defined.

He's probably one of the videographers for the documentary of the 100th anniversary. This age long institution of learning that my father shoved me in, thinking it would somehow tame me, make me into the proper Alpha daughter he always wanted.

I'm pulled out from that state by a gentle pull by Mira and a stark smell that I know too well. Human. The scent hits me like a wave, clean and different from the usual wolf smells I'm surrounded by every day.

"That was so rude, are you okay?" Mira asks but I just nod, my throat too tight to form words.

I roll my eyes as I continue my walk with her, mentally hushing Astrid who's still restless inside me, still pacing and whining like she's lost something important. I read her sudden discomfort as seeing a human again, although she's never acted this way before. Excited, desperate and needy, like she's caught a scent she's been searching for her whole life.

I hold her off for the rest of the day until after my classes. After I've secured my new dorm room, I send the driver off to get my already packed bags, I barely talk to him but I trust him to not be a snitch over the whole thing.

When my father starts calling me,, I turn it off completely and shove it to the bottom of my bag as Fatima drives us to the stake park. Skating should ease my nerves, the familiar rhythm of wheels on concrete usually calms me down, but it barely scratches the surface today. I'm way too angry to think straight, too wound up to focus on anything except the betrayal burning in my chest.

"A human stepmom?" I hiss, pulling the board with a loud screech as I carve a sharp turn, my wheels kicking up dust.

"Yeah, it isn't helping." Dante states the obvious from where he's leaning against a railing, his arms crossed.

I roll my eyes and heave as I pull my mask off just as Jerry turns off the camera, the lens clicking as he lowers it.

"Skylar you really need to get it together. Harry won't be pleased when he gets back and the videos aren't ready, the competition is in one week." Jerry says, his voice carrying that nagging tone that makes me want to throw my board at his head.

"Harry can eat a carrot, if he cares that much as leader he wouldn't be on a school ski trip while we work our asses off for this." I snap, my fingers tightening around my board.

"Let's just take a break, it's getting late anyways." Fatima suggests.

"Yeah." Grayson nods, already grabbing his jacket. "I'm starving."

We find a restaurant a few drives away from the skate park. I don't know what's pissing me off anymore, there's too much to choose from.

Astrid that keeps acting weird since that rude human maggot touched me, Harry our group leader that's away from the city and should be able to fix all of this, or my dad that's still calling me to witness him propose to the love of his life.

I order a chocolate shake to drink while we wait for our orders, the cold sweetness doing nothing to calm the fire inside me. Jerry reviews the videos on his camera as he hangs it over his neck, scrolling through footage with focused eyes.

It buzzes a memory through me, that human guy with the camera around his own neck, the way his hands felt on my waist for that brief moment. I look away from Jerry and out the street just as the familiar scent hits me hard, stronger than before, filling my nostrils and making Astrid go absolutely crazy inside me.

He walks past just then, that same tall frame, that same crisp white shirt, and I can swear that our eyes met from the clear glass window at the eatery. For a split second, everything else fades away.

"Yoo, isn't that the prick that shoved you today?" Mira says, her voice cutting through my trance.

"Ye..yes." I turn to her, my heart pounding.

"Someone shoved you?" Grayson asks, his brows drawing together.

"Today, at school." I sigh, drinking the last few drops of chocolate relief as my anger seeps back again just as Astrid keeps moving again, restless and agitated.

"And what are we doing here?" Dante's up and Jerry follows, their chairs scraping against the floor. "We should teach that bastard a lesson."

I'm nodding before I can even rethink it, my head moving on its own accord. Beating people in the past has sort of eased my anger, the satisfying crack of my fist against someone's face usually clears my head like nothing else.

And somehow, teaching this guy a lesson might be the first step to clearing my head, to getting Astrid to calm down, to making sense of this whole messed up day.