George sat in his homeroom class, his head bowed, simply trying to get through the day. Every moment he spent in the high-end school, a gleaming monument of glass and polished bamboo flooring that served the packlands, was pure agonizing hell. He was grateful to be reunited with his parents, but it had come at an exceptionally high cost. They were kind, sweet, decent people, older than he'd ever imagined. Once he'd learned that wolves could conceive at any time, it made their age more understandable, yet they were as loving and kind as any other parents.
As much as this new school was obviously different because it was populated by wolves, it wasn't the only thing George found unappealing. Being forced to attend made him feel impoverished and less-than, marginal in a way he had never felt in the human realm. There was a rigid class system amongst wolves, and his family was firmly towards the tail end of it. His parents were shopkeepers, working at the city center's only grocery store. It was one of the things the others used to humiliate him. In the human realm, owning a grocery store would be impressive; here, in this pack, it was embarrassing, considered lowly peasant's work. In this pack, one was only important if one was powerful, a warrior, a strong, formidable wolf that protected the pack. They gave no glory to those who made sure everyone was fed. Nurturing wasn't well-regarded, and George thought it was wrong.
He doubted, however, that his treatment would be any better even if his parents had been warriors. The other defectives in the school all faced similar abuse, and their families were of varying standings. It didn't matter; as long as he didn't have a wolf, he was looked at as less than, an even worse stain on the pack's soul. Sometimes he found himself spending more time at the defective house than at his parents' home. It felt safer to be around his own kind, people who understood what it meant to be alienated and despised for just being themselves. In a household of everyone exactly the same, he felt protected, hidden in a way.
Jonathan Myers had always been quite kind to him. He was the one who listened when George spoke about the bullies—the ones who would shove him into lockers and hold him over the stair railing, threatening to drop him. Myers had always been sympathetic and understanding. He told George that they weren't as defenseless as they thought they were and that he was hatching a plan to escape the pack and return to the human realm.
Initially, George had been rather apprehensive; he wanted to help his kind and stay loyal to those on his side, but he wasn't so sure about leaving. He had been warned that people like him were being hunted on the outside, which was the only reason they had been brought back. But Myers said they could survive as long as they stayed together. There was power in numbers. George worried about his parents, how they'd be affected if he left, what they would do, and how they would react.
In recent weeks, George had found himself feeling bleak about everything. He didn't even bother airing his grievances about the school bullies anymore. He just wanted to be done. If he couldn't be a wolf, he'd rather be nothing. He would rather be gone.
This growing sense of resolve made his decision easier. He wouldn't betray his kind. He would make sure they prospered and escaped this living nightmare. Myers had told him it only gets worse—that the others who had been sent to the warrior house were beaten and whipped on a daily basis. It was hard to know that what came next was just worse than what he was living through now. He would be strong and absolute. He didn't plan for his life to be nothing but pain. Resting his head on the desk—one of the adjustable, modern ones—he didn't even bother to take notes. He was settling for just attending. What he did wouldn't matter.
Lily Deen sauntered into class with her friends, uncaring about their tardiness. The classroom was ultra-modern, featuring spacious, cushioned chairs and a clear glass wall where the teacher wrote.
"Can anybody tell me, the pivotal packs, that helped secure victory in the war of 1502–" Mrs. Notes looked up at the interruption to her lesson. Lily Deen, Willmar Martinez, and Ty File walked in as if it was appropriate to be late and boastful. All three were part of the upper level of pack society, the children of warriors who held a lot of social currency. Mrs. Notes tried her best to be fair and equally punish anyone disrespectful or tardy, but it became difficult with certain entitled pack children.
"I don't appreciate interruptions in my class. Take your seats and try not to interrupt everyone else who is here to learn," she scolded, placing her pen on the clear glass wall.
Lily rolled her eyes, completely uncaring of Mrs. Notes' irritation. Her family had given far too much to the pack for her to care about insignificant people like her teacher. The contribution her family had given meant the least they could do was be respectful that her time was far more valuable.
Ty lifted his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never leaving his lips. It wasn't as if Mrs. Notes could do anything to him. To any of them, actually.
As the three walked down the aisle, Ty decided to mess with the loser. At the precise moment he was passing by George, he took off his backpack, letting the large, heavy bag slam onto George's head. He chucked lowly before saying a quick, insincere "sorry."
George held his head painfully, his face still buried in his desk. What did it even matter? He didn't even make a sound, too used to this kind of torment.
The sound of Ty's backpack against George's head made a loud bang that echoed around the room. Mrs. Notes' harsh glare focused on Ty.
"Out of my class!" Grabbing a notepad from her desk, she quickly scribbled a note for him to hand to the secretary at the office.
As he passed by, Ty rolled his eyes, grabbing the paper from her hands and slamming the door behind him as he left the classroom.
George flinching as he heard the loud banging of the classroom door. The small phone that Jonathan had given him vibrated in his pocket.
Without drawing attention, he pulled it onto his desk to see what the message was about. The screen showed only one word: "Now!"
Putting the phone back in his pocket, George slowly raised a hand. "Can I go to the washroom?" he muttered, his face still looking down at the desk, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.
"Of course, George! Go see the nurse, too!" she told him gently. She could tell he was having a hard time. This school wasn't kind to defectives. She had once been just as prejudiced as the children in her class, never having truly known a defective. But it was one thing to hold animosity toward other adults. It was something completely different to target children. It made her more inclined to the plight of her defective students. They didn't ask for this, nor did they deserve to be targeted by children who didn't even understand why defectives were ostracized.
George nodded but didn't say anything, keeping his head low, looking at the polished bamboo floor. But he knew it didn't matter if he looked up and they saw. With their height and senses, they'd be able to smell the blood. When the backpack hit his head, which was already so close to the desk, his nose had crashed into the wood, causing it to bleed.
As he left the classroom, he didn't head to the washroom or the nurse. He used his shirt sleeve to wipe away the blood and made his way outside. He took the familiar path, walking toward the light post where he had scouted the small access panel.
He quickly looked around him before he started to unscrew the panel. Myers had made it clear that he didn't need to know which wires controlled the camera, just that he needed to destroy all of the wiring.
Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the clippers and the gloves that would keep him from getting electrocuted. He ripped out all the wires inside. Once done, he did the same thing to the other security cameras around the large, high-end school grounds.
Just as he finished, he paused, unable to decide whether he should go back in or just go home.
"Hey, freak!" Ty grinned, seeing George acting suspicious. Ty was walking toward the principal's office, carrying his referral note. He had seen George skulking around the expansive football field where the cameras were, and decided it was a better decision to go and pay him back for getting him in trouble.
George's body stiffened, but he didn't say anything. He just kept looking at the ground, standing completely still, hoping that whatever Ty wanted to do would be quick.
"Are you deaf?" Grinning, Ty slapped him hard on the back of the head, watching as the pathetic thing crashed to the ground, already huddling in a fetal position, not daring to fight back. It pissed Ty off the way George had stopped fighting back, stopped talking. Pulling back his foot, he kicked him hard, watching as George rolled away. "Don't run," Ty sneered, pushing his brown hair back from his forehead.
His eyes fogged as he sent a mental message to his friends so they could come out and enjoy the show.
Crouching down next to George, he gripped his head, holding him by the hair as he lifted him back onto his feet. "You know what I like about you? You're the perfect punching bag." Cocking back his fist, he punched him in his stomach, hearing the air leave George's chest painfully as he let out a hacking cough.
Letting go of his hair, he watched as George crumpled to the ground and his blood started to perfume the air.
"Playing with the little monster!" Lily smiled as she walked out to see Ty tossing George to the ground. She had called over some other friends as soon as she got his mental message, knowing they all could enjoy a good show.
The mass of students that had left to watch George being beaten didn't escape the notice of other students. The defectives in various classrooms all exchanged worried looks, knowing one of them was being targeted, their fears confirmed by the sly grins and mocking comments from their classmates.
"We have to help him!" a defective boy whispered.
"Doing nothing doesn't matter. They're going to come after us either way," another girl, one of the older defectives, spoke out, her voice tight with tension.
"There are only eight of us defectives here. If not us, who will help!" With a strong feeling of resolve, the eight pairs of defective feet all walked over in a hurried pace toward the football field.
They struggled to push their way through the throng of onlookers to get to George.
"Stop it!"
"He's not even fighting back!"
"Just leave him alone!"
"Leave all of us alone!"
Diamond, the oldest girl of the defectives, went over to George, seeing his clothes already staining with blood. She pushed his shaggy hair back from his face to see that his eyes were swollen shut and his lip was already split open.
"Christ! Damn, George! We need to get you to the doctor!" she told him, worry painted on her face and in her voice.
"Who said we were done?" Lily smirked. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. Her face was the picture of angelic beauty, but on the inside, she was completely rotten and evil.
"You've had your fun. And it's done now!" Diamond was tired of taking the abuse from these assholes. This was her limit. George was the weakest of them all, not just physically but mentally. It was obvious that he was not in a good headspace, especially with someone like Jonathan whispering in his ears, telling him how everything just got worse and worse. But she knew better. The defectives that were in the Warrior House were not all being harassed. For the most part, from what she had overheard, they were doing quite well. It seemed the real monsters were just the youngest of the pack, who didn't care about morality or just took things too far. She would be done with this school this year, but she worried about all the kids that would still be here.
"Who told you that you could speak to me? You're nothing but scum. You're meant to be on your knees beneath all of us like the trash you are, begging for scraps!" Lily couldn't believe the lowly defective would actually speak back to her, have the nerve to not just beg for their mercy and forgiveness.
"And you're just a filthy mutt parading around in human skin." The surrounding wolves all growled at her, deeply offended by being referred to as mutts. It was deeply insulting to be compared to a brainless dog. "Isn't your sister defective? What does that say about you? Shouldn't you be next to us?" Diamond knew that her statements were provocative in nature, but she didn't care. Her mind was made up; this was the last resort. With her hands in her pocket, she felt at the fine silver dust that all of them had been grinding down for weeks, prepared for the next time things had ever gone too far. She was glad that she hadn't been hesitant. She looked at the others, giving them a slight nod.
They all knew what she meant, each of them putting their hands in their pockets, prepared to throw the fine powder if things got out of hand.
Lily growled as she threw down her bag. Her skin started to ripple as a deep, resonant growl rose from her chest, her eyes flashing black as her shift started to take hold.
Diamond didn't waste a second, knowing that if Lily shifted to her wolf form, it was because she was losing control. Grabbing a handful of the powder, she tossed it haphazardly around them.
Lily screamed as the silver dust landed all over her body: in her eyes, up her nose, down her throat, all over her skin. She screamed in agony as she fell to the grass, her shift stopping suddenly at the excruciating pain. All around her, all she could hear were the screams and cries of others being affected by the silver.
Not only had Diamond thrown the silver dust, but so had all the other defectives. And they hadn't been reserved, throwing handfuls of silver at every single wolf that stood around them. The wind, which was picking up, helped, propelling it and making sure that not a single wolf around them was spared the agony of the silver's power. The air became saturated with the fine particles, shimmering like a toxic haze in the sunlight over the football field. The silver affected the defectives too, but nothing like it did the wolves. For some, it was a mild irritation; for others, it was barely noticeable.
For the wolves, the silver dust was like fine, burning sand, clinging to their skin, their clothing, and their fur. When inhaled, it felt like fire in their lungs and throat. It was an intense, searing pain that made a full shift impossible and sapped their strength instantly. The tiny, abrasive particles irritated and burned any exposed skin, and where the concentration was highest, it caused blisters and raw, red patches.
Standing over Lily, Diamond felt a surge of power flare up inside of her. It had been a long time since she hadn't felt like the victim or the prey. As she watched Lily scream in agony and beg for help, she felt the need for retribution clawing at her skin, begging her to take her revenge while she had the chance.
She kicked her as hard as she could, spitting on Lily while cursing her. "You're pathetic! How does it feel! Not so big now." The only response she got was Lily's screams, and she found that she quite liked it.
Straddling Lily's waist, she punched her in the face hard. For some sick reason, Lily was always the one leading the charge, reveling in their pain, pushing others to make all of their lives hell.
Grabbing more of the silver powder from her pocket, she cocked her head as she watched the fine powder dust Lily's face as if it were wishing powder. Lily screamed even louder, and Diamond grinned.
The others were shocked to see Diamond's brutality, but they understood it. They had all been tortured by these people. They looked at each other, wondering what they should do. They were all in trouble no matter what. Retribution would be coming to them. The least they could do was make it worth it.
Rolling onto his side, George's bloody teeth could be seen smiling as he watched the wolves around him scream in pain. He didn't care. He wanted them all to suffer. He hated the wolves.
Groaning through his bruised lungs and using pure, cold resolve, he pulled himself to his feet. He dragged his body, bruised and aching from Ty's kicks and punches, over to Ty. Ty was desperately trying to wipe the silver dust off his face, but the particles were far too fine. It just dragged across his skin like sand, only doing more damage.
Once nestled next to him, George laughed low and deep in his throat. "No one's going to help you. Make sure you're dead." He couldn't help the chuckle that just kept rising in his throat. This might be the best day of his life. Reaching into his pocket, he held one of the bags of silver powder. Gripping Ty's cheeks, he forced his mouth open, pouring all the fine silver powder in, watching as it bubbled and burned and blood pooled. He held his hand over Ty's mouth, not allowing a single piece to escape, watching as his eyes widened in fear—the same fear George felt every day walking into this place. The whites of Ty's eyes turned red as the veins bulged.
He heard the sound of Ty wetting himself, smelt the aroma of piss in the air, and still he chuckled. "Do you remember when I peed in fear? You laughed. I get it now. It really is funny."
"Stop this now!" George looked over his shoulder, seeing people who didn't look much older than him—obviously wolves—start to make their way over to them in hurried steps. They stopped suddenly, hissing in pain as they felt the silver in the air. The wind was doing a great job today.
"This isn't right!" Noah, the Team 7 captain, pleaded for them to show some form of humanity. "This is cruel." He couldn't get closer. His silver tolerance wasn't enough to withstand the amount of silver in the air. Noah felt helpless as he watched the younger wolves being tortured. He was completely helpless.
All the defectives turned to glare at him at that same moment. Where was the sentiment when all of them were being tortured? From the way they saw it, they were the only humans here.
George looked back at Ty as he felt his struggling stop. All of his movements went completely still. He watched as Ty's chest stopped moving up and down, and his body went still and limp. His eyes were open, fear clear. He died in agony. And George felt nothing. He felt numb, cold. Rolling to his side, his arms outstretched wide as he looked to the sky above.
"This really is a good day." He grinned, closing his eyes. This was a good day as any to die. He made them bleed too. They wouldn't be so quick to approach them now. His kind had shown them what fear tasted like.
"Noah, we have to tell them. That kid killed one of our own!" The growls of his team were not lost on him.
He couldn't delay or hide anything. His parents would know. Their bond would feel this break. They would know their son was dead. Even the pack link felt a bit different, as if someone had left the group.
It wasn't that he was unfeeling. Something like this was inflammatory. Wolves were vengeful creatures. And they'd take their pound of flesh from anyone!
Author's note:
I hope you all aren't too disappointed by my updates recently. This part of the plot line is very in-depth and extremely hard to write. So I can't just drop five or 10 chapters. All of these chapters are extremely long over 3,000 words. So it's difficult. I hope you'll bear with me and you like what's happening in this August 8th saga. Far more surprises to come. Vote comment all the things I love!