Chapter 14 Volleyball and Violence (Ember's POV)
Principal Keagan's lecture had lasted forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of hearing about "disrupting the learning environment" and "inappropriate displays" and "setting a poor example for younger students."
I'd nodded in all the right places, apologized when expected, and walked out feeling hollower than when I went in.
Now, I stand outside the gym, staring at the double doors like they might bite me.
"You going in or just planning to stand there all day?" Sage appeared beside me, gym bag slung over her shoulder. "Coach has been asking about you."
"I know." My hand found the door handle but didn't pull. "What if I can't control it? What if my wolf decides to make an appearance in front of the whole team?"
She squeezed my arm. "Em, you need this. Volleyball is the one thing that's still yours. Don't let everything else take that away too."
She was right. I pulled the door open.
The familiar smell of floor polish and sweat hit me immediately. My teammates were already warming up, passing balls back and forth in practiced rhythm. For a moment, everything felt normal.
Then Mika saw me and the ball she was holding dropped to the floor.
"Ember!" She ran over, pulling me into a hug that felt desperate. "Oh my God, we thought you quit. Coach has been impossible without you."
"I'm not quitting." I hugged her back, grateful for the normalcy. "Just had some stuff to deal with."
"Yeah, we heard." Jessica appeared, her expression less welcoming. "The whole school heard. You and Trey Jarred. That sophomore kneeling to you. Principal Keagan dragging you out of the cafeteria."
"Jess." Mika shot her a warning look.
"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." Jessica crossed her arms. "Things have been weird since Ember came back from her 'family emergency.' And now she's at the center of all this drama."
"Thorne!" Coach Martinez's voice cut through the tension. "My office. Now."
I followed her into the small room off the gym, my stomach knotting. Through the bond, I felt Trey's curiosity spike, he was in the weight room on the other side of the building, aware of my anxiety even at a distance.
Coach closed the door, turning to face me with an expression I couldn't read. "Sit."
I sat.
"I'm not going to ask about the cafeteria incident or whatever's going on with you and the Jarred boy." She leaned against her desk. "That's your business. But I am going to ask if you're physically and mentally capable of playing in Friday's match against St. Helena."
"I am." The words came out too fast, too desperate.
Her eyes narrowed. "I need my libero focused on the game, not on whatever drama is consuming the rest of the school. St. Helena's got that girl I told you about—thirty-six digs last season. We need you at your best to beat her."
"I'll be at my best."
"Then prove it." She opened the door. "Get changed and get on the court. We're running drills for the next two hours."
Twenty minutes later, I was in position, my body falling into familiar patterns. Pass, dig, dive. The rhythm should have been soothing.
But everything felt different.
The ball moved too slowly. My teammates' movements were predictable, telegraphed. And when I jumped for a dig, I went higher than I ever had before—high enough that Jessica stared at me with wide eyes.
"Jesus, Ember. What are you taking?" She tried to make it sound like a joke, but I heard the edge underneath.
"Nothing. Just been working on my vertical."
We continued drilling, and I tried to dial it back. Tried to move at normal human speed. But my wolf had other ideas.
When Mika served, I moved before the ball even crossed the net. My body knew where it would land before physics decided. I was there, arm extended, making a perfect dig that should have been impossible.
"Okay, that's just creepy." Jessica lowered her hands. "How did you even see that coming?"
"Lucky guess."
"That wasn't luck." Coach Martinez was watching now, her expression thoughtful. "Again, Mika. Same serve."
Mika served. I moved. Perfect dig.
"Again."
Serve. Move. Dig.
"Again!"
This time I forced myself to wait, to move at human speed. The ball hit the floor two feet from where I stood.
"What the hell, Thorne?" Coach stalked onto the court. "You had that."
"I misjudged."
"Bullshit. You knew exactly where that ball was going." She got in my face, her voice low enough that only I could hear. "I don't know what's happening to you, but I'm not stupid. Your reaction time, your vertical, your strength... they've all improved dramatically in the past week."
My mouth went dry. "Coach..."
"I don't care if it's steroids or some new training regimen or a deal with the devil." Her eyes were hard. "But you need to get it under control. We can't have you playing like some kind of superhuman on the court. People will ask questions. Colleges will investigate. The team will be disqualified."
"I'm not taking anything illegal."
"Then what's your excuse?"
I had none. At least none I could share.
"I'll figure it out," I said finally. "I'll control it."
"You better." She stepped back. "Because if you can't, I'm benching you for Friday. I won't risk the team's reputation, even for my best player."
She blew her whistle, and everyone returned to positions. But I felt their eyes on me—curious, suspicious, afraid.
We ran through more drills. I tried to be mediocre, to blend in. But it was like trying to dim the sun. Every instinct screamed to use my full abilities, to show what I was capable of.
Then Jessica set up for a spike.
She jumped, arm cocked back. I moved into position to defend, tracking the ball's trajectory. She hit it hard—harder than usual, like she was trying to prove something.
The ball rocketed toward me. I reacted on instinct, jumping and spiking it back over the net with force I didn't know I had.
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the gym.
Everyone froze. The ball had gone through the window above the bleachers, leaving a spider web of cracks around a clean hole.
"Everybody out!" Coach Martinez's voice cracked like a whip. "Practice is over. Except you, Thorne. You stay."
My teammates fled, casting glances over their shoulders. Sage lingered at the door, but I shook my head. She needed to go. This conversation would be bad enough without witnesses.
The door closed, leaving me alone with Coach and the broken window.
"I'm sorry." The words felt inadequate. "I'll pay for the damage."
"You think I care about a window?" She moved closer, studying my face. "Ember, what's happening to you? And don't give me some bullshit about training harder. That spike would have broken bones if it had hit someone."
"I don't know how to explain it."
"Try."
I stared at the broken window, searching for words that wouldn't sound insane. "Everything's changing. My body, my abilities, my whole life. And I don't know how to control any of it."
"Is it drugs?"
"No."
"Medical condition?"
"Sort of." Close enough to the truth.
She was quiet for a long moment. "Can you get it under control by Friday?"
"I don't know."
"Then you're benched." She moved toward her office. "I'm sorry, Ember. I know how much this team means to you. But I can't risk you hurting someone or exposing yourself to scrutiny we can't afford."
"Please." Desperation crept into my voice. "Volleyball is the only normal thing I have left. Don't take it away from me."
"Then prove you can handle it." She paused at the door. "Friday morning, before the match. Show me you can play at a normal level without breaking windows or jumping three feet higher than physically possible. If you can do that, you're in. If not, you sit."
She left, and I stood alone in the gym, staring at the evidence of my loss of control.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the locker room.
The space was empty when I pushed through the door, fluorescent lights humming overhead. I moved to my locker, spinning the combination with shaking fingers.
"Ember Thorne."
I spun around.
Three girls stood blocking the exit. I recognized them vaguely—upperclassmen who'd transferred in last year. All three had that particular stillness that marked them as supernatural.
"Can I help you?" I kept my voice level despite the warning bells ringing in my head.
The tallest one stepped forward. "We need to talk. About your responsibilities."
"I don't have time for this." I turned back to my locker.
"You'll make time." She moved closer, and I caught the scent—wolf, but not Ravencrest.
"Too bad. Because we need you to accept your role." The second girl, blonde with hard eyes, circled to my left. "The old wolf, Raven, she's dying. The pack needs a true alpha, and you're hiding behind this Ravencrest boy."
"Ms. Silvermoon isn't dying." But even as I said it, I remembered how tired she'd looked lately, how her hands had trembled when she handed me the pendant.
"She's fading." The third girl completed the triangle, trapping me between them. "Without a strong alpha to lead us, the pack will dissolve. You're the last of the royal bloodline. It's your duty to step up."
"I don't owe you anything." I backed against the lockers. "I didn't ask for this bloodline or this duty."
"That's because you're still thinking like a human." The tall one moved closer, her eyes beginning to glow amber. "Your wolf knows the truth. Knows what you're meant to be. We just need to help her wake up."
Understanding hit me like ice water. "Don't."
"Too late."
They moved as one, grabbing my arms and forcing me to the ground. I struggled, but they were older, stronger, more experienced with their wolves.
"Let her out," the blonde hissed in my ear. "Stop fighting your nature. Transform."
"No!" I thrashed against their grip, but the tall one pressed her hand to my chest, right over my heart.
"Your wolf is right there. Just beneath the surface. Let. Her. Out."
Pain exploded through me. Not physical pain, but something deeper—like they were reaching into my soul and yanking. My vision blurred, shifting between human sight and the silver-tinted wolf vision.
"Stop!" My voice came out distorted, half-human, half-growl. "You're hurting me!"
"Pain is part of awakening." The tall one's grip tightened. "Your mother endured worse to fully realize her power. You can too."
My mother. The woman I'd watched die in inherited memory. The woman these girls were trying to use as justification for torturing me.
Rage flooded through me, hot and primal. My wolf surged forward, responding not to their demands but to my fury. I felt my nails elongate, felt my teeth sharpen.
"That's it!" The blonde sounded excited. "She's transforming!"
"No." A new voice cut through the chaos. "She's not."
The pressure on my chest vanished as all three girls flew backward, slamming into lockers with bone-jarring force. They slumped to the ground, dazed.
Sage stood in the doorway, her hands glowing with green light. Her eyes blazed with power I'd never seen before, and the air around her crackled with energy.
"Touch her again," she said quietly, "and I won't just throw you. I'll burn you from the inside out."
The three girls scrambled to their feet, backing toward the exit. The tall one pointed at me with a shaking finger.
"You can't hide behind a witch forever. The pack demands..."
"The pack can go to hell." Sage's voice was ice. "Now get out before I show you exactly what this witch is capable of."
They ran.
Sage's hands stopped glowing, and she rushed to my side. "Em? Talk to me. Are you okay?"
I nodded, but couldn't speak. My wolf was too close to the surface, snarling and snapping at the violation of being forced. My hands still showed claws, and I could feel my teeth pressed against my lips.
"Breathe." Sage's hands found my face, forcing me to look at her. "Look at me. Focus on my voice. You're safe now. They're gone."
"They tried to make me transform." The words came out garbled. "Tried to force my wolf out."
"I know. I felt the magic they were using." Anger flashed across her face. "Silvermoon Pack technique. It's supposed to help young wolves learn control, but forcing it on someone unwilling is torture."
"They said Ms. Silvermoon is dying."
Sage went very still. "What?"
"They said she's fading. That the pack needs me to step up as alpha." I looked at my hands, watching the claws slowly retract. "Is it true?"
"I don't know." She helped me to my feet. "But we're going to find out."