1| ELIJAH

The ball blurred in my vision, bouncing erratically, almost as if it had a mind of its own. My hands felt disconnected from my body, slippery and uncooperative. My heart pounded, not with adrenaline but with a frantic, disjointed rhythm that made my chest tight and my breathing shallow.

The stadium air felt stifling behind my helmet, the lights glaring down like a spotlight on my every mistake. My legs were heavy, like they were sinking into the polished wood floor. My head swam, the edges of my vision darkening as I struggled to focus.

“Move, Elijah!” Lukas’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding, but it sounded distant, as though he were shouting from underwater.

Move. Move, I told myself.

We were a few seconds away from winning or losing and with one right move, I could change the odds. I always did that, it was something that I was good at. But not right now, not in this state.

I forced my feet to respond, to push forward, to do something. But my body betrayed me again, stumbling over the ball at the crucial moment. It slipped from my grasp, bouncing once before an opposing player snatched it away and bolted down the field.

The crowd erupted in cheers and groans as the buzzer blared, marking the end of the game.

We’d lost.

I lost. I caused this.

I stood there, frozen in the middle of the field, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Around me, my teammates shook their heads, their expressions a mix of disappointment and anger. They all brushed past me as they left, muttering things under their breaths that I didn’t catch—or maybe I did and just couldn’t process it.

My skin prickled, and I became acutely aware of the weight of hundreds of eyes on me. The crowd, the opposing team, my own teammates—everyone was staring. Judging.

Usually, the weight of their stares felt pleasing, I basked in the attention while I was on the field. But now it felt suffocating, I couldn’t breathe and the sensations that flooded my body only served to overwhelm me even more.

I turned and stumbled toward the tunnel, my legs shaky, my head pounding. The air in the stadium felt too thick, too heavy, and my wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin. I shoved it down, suppressing its restless energy, but it didn’t help.

As I neared the entrance, a familiar figure came into view. My father.

Victor North, Alpha of the Lupine Moon pack. He stood there like a monolith, his sharp gaze locked on me. He was impeccably dressed, as always, in a tailored suit, his arms crossed over his chest, his blue —with waning alpha-gold eyes— bit into my skin.

I stopped a few feet away, my chest tightening as his gaze raked over me. I had no idea he was even coming.

“What was that?” He asked, his voice cold and his expression cutting.

“I-“my voice was wobbly, but he didn’t let me finish.

“That,” he said, his voice low and biting, “was pathetic.”

The word hit me like a slap. I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound came out. For once he was right, that was pathetic.

Victor stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Do you know what you just did? You embarrassed yourself. You embarrassed me. You embarrassed the pack.”

“I—” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in my throat. “I messed up.”

“Messed up?” His lip curled in disdain. “You’re supposed to be a leader. An Alpha. Do you even understand what that means? Or are you too busy sulking like a child?”

My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. The ache in my head intensified, and my wolf pushed harder against my restraint. I forced it down again, gritting my teeth.

“I’m trying,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

That was a lie, I didn’t want to try, not at all.

“Trying isn’t good enough,” Victor snapped. “You disgraced yourself out there. You disgraced me. This is the one thing you’re good at, the one thing I trusted you to succeed at but look at you.”

I looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

Victor let out a harsh laugh. “You can’t even look me in the eye. How do you expect to lead a pack?” He shook his head, his tone dripping with disappointment. “You’re weak, Elijah. And the world doesn’t have room for weak Alphas.”

The sting of his words were dulled, but not enough.

“You don’t have the luxury of being less than,” he hissed. “This is who you are. And if you can’t handle it—” He leaned in, his breath cold against my ear. “—then you’re nothing.”

He straightened and turned on his heel, walking away without another word.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a physical force. My wolf stirred again, its presence sharp and agitated, but I shoved it back with more force than before, I didn’t need another reminder of what I was resisting, what I was failing.

By the time I made it to the locker room, the pounding in my head had become unbearable. My hands were still trembling as I yanked off my jersey and tossed it onto the bench. The silence in the room was deafening, my teammates didn’t stick around as they usually did, so other than the uneven sound of my breathing, there was nothing.

I sank onto the bench, my head in my hands. I could still feel Victor’s gaze on me, could still hear his voice echoing in my mind.

The door slammed open, and I flinched, my head snapping up to see Lukas storming in.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, his voice sharp and angry.

I didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him.

Lukas marched over, grabbed the front of my shirt to lift me up then slammed me back against the lockers. The metal was cold against my skin, the impact jarring, but I barely felt it.

He searched my face, his grey eyes filled with frustration and something else—disappointment.

“Are you fucking high?” he growled.