About a month after the diner incident, Kylie pulled me into an empty classroom, her expression tight with frustration. She glanced around to make sure we were alone, her movements sharp with determination.

"Talk," she demanded, crossing her arms. "Or I swear, I’m going straight to Delta Kyle and Luna Ava. They already know more than the rest of us—I saw the marks on your back, Selene. And those bruises? You don’t get hit that badly in training. You’re too fast for that." Her voice trembled with controlled anger. "You’re walking around school like a paranoid kitten, which you are definitely not. So either you start talking, or I go straight to someone who’ll make you talk."

Her anger surprised me, but I knew her threat wasn’t an empty one. Kylie wasn’t someone to back down once she got something in her head.

I exhaled sharply, cornered. There was no way out of this conversation, but I had to make her understand that getting involved would only make things worse.

"Fine. I’ll tell you what you need to know. But first, you need to understand that what’s happening is under control. It’s... a controlled version of the situation."

Kylie snorted, but to her credit, she didn’t interrupt.

"And no, we can’t go to anyone—no adults, no teachers. I won’t explain why." I glanced around the room, half expecting hidden cameras or listening devices. Stacey’s reach felt endless, even in private moments like these.

"There’s one student who wants control of the school," I whispered. "And for the most part, she has it. I’ve gotten in her way more than once, and now I’m a problem she’s determined to handle. She’s recruited a few others who share her mindset—or just enjoy dishing out pain. They take out their hatred on me. But it’s better me than the younger students. They used to target them, you know." I shrugged as if the weight of it all didn’t crush me. "So I made myself the target. On purpose. This is my choice. And it’s not so bad. I can handle it."

Kylie stared at me in disbelief, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "What about the guys?" she whispered, her voice rising with urgency. "Do they know? They’d lose their minds if they found out what’s happening to you. You’ve become one of their favorite people—whether you’ve noticed or not. And let me tell you, they’re all very protective in their own ways. They’d tear someone apart for touching you."

"No!" I hissed, panic bubbling in my chest. "You can’t tell them. They know bullying happens at school—it’s been happening for years—and they’ve never gotten involved before."

"That was different!" Kylie shot back. "This isn’t just anyone getting hurt—it’s you! And that matters. It matters to them!"

My temper flared, my voice sharp with frustration. "Why? Why does the fact that it’s me suddenly make it different? I’m not more important than anyone else! It’s not just a problem because I’m getting hurt. It was a problem when other kids were bullied too. Just because I’m the Beta’s sister and friends with the guys doesn’t make it worse."

I forced a breath into my lungs, willing my anger to cool. Kylie opened her mouth to argue again, but I raised my hand to stop her.

"And besides," I continued, quieter now, "I refuse to look weak. I won’t run to my brother or the others for protection. That’s exactly what Stacey wants. She wants to isolate me, make me look weak. I won’t give her the satisfaction."

Kylie crossed her arms, her jaw tight with defiance. "You think this friendship hasn’t already painted a target on your back?" she whispered fiercely. "They’ve noticed you. Stacey noticed. And it’s only getting worse. If you don’t let me help—if we don’t figure out a way to stop this—it’s going to spiral. Fast."

Her words sat heavy in the air between us. But I knew I couldn’t let the guys get involved. The more attention I drew, the more brutal Stacey would become. I had to handle this alone.

Kylie stared me down, her gaze unrelenting. I realized with a sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to win this argument.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice steady but firm. "I’ll keep quiet. For now. But I want something in return."

"What?" I asked, already regretting the question.

"I want to know every time it happens. Every new bruise, every cut—everything. No details if you don’t want to share, but I want to know the moment it happens. If I find out you kept something from me..." She paused, her expression deadly serious. "I’ll go to the guys. Starting with Leo."

I blinked in shock. "You wouldn’t."

She raised an eyebrow, standing tall despite her small frame. "Try me."

I groaned, realizing I had no choice. If I didn’t agree, she’d go straight to Leo—and if that happened, everything would unravel.

"Fine," I muttered begrudgingly.

Her eyes twinkled with triumph. "Fine, what?"

"Fine, I’ll tell you whenever it happens," I grumbled.

Her mood shifted instantly, and she wrapped me in a tight hug. "Good. And Selene?" she whispered against my ear. "You don’t have to do this alone. I get why you think you do... but you don’t."

I nodded, swallowing hard to keep the tears from spilling over. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now. I’d been through too much to break down at school.

The rest of my freshman year followed the same brutal pattern. Winter hit hard, but I stuck to my grueling training schedule, no matter how much my friends complained about the cold. Kylie slowly convinced me to let the guys in, just a little, as friends. I kept my interactions with them to training sessions and school—any invitations to parties or the diner were met with polite excuses. I couldn’t afford to give Stacey more ammunition.

Other girls shot me dirty looks when I was with the guys, though none of them dared to go as far as Stacey. The rumors about her becoming Luna spread like wildfire, no matter how hard Aaron and Ryan tried to squash them. Stacey made sure she was always close to one—or both—of the twins, draping herself over them at every opportunity. Social media lit up with pictures of them together, fueling the gossip.

According to the guys, Alpha Michael was turning a blind eye to the drama for now, dismissing it as harmless teenage antics. Stacey, however, made it very clear that any girl who looked their way was a threat—and I was no exception.

I kept my promise to Kylie, confiding in her whenever new bruises or cuts appeared. To her credit, she never pried for more information, though I knew it killed her not to. Her knowledge of healing herbs, creams, and salves was impressive, and with her help, my recovery time improved.

I grew stronger. Faster. And little by little, I began to embrace the new version of myself that Kylie was determined to bring out. Baggy clothes were no longer allowed in my wardrobe—according to her, I’d earned the right to show off my hard-earned figure.

Through it all, I stayed on guard, always waiting for the next attack. Because one thing was certain: Stacey wasn’t done with me. Not by a long shot.

And when she came for me again, I’d be ready.