Becoming A True Alpha (Teen Wolf)

Chapter 8: The Dead Don't Run

Chapter 8

I use to be a terrible runner. A rather silly thought, considering that's all I seem to do now, run. Run from my enemies, my problems, my life. I never stopped, never took a break to look over my shoulder. But now, it's as if I've ran out of breath. I have ran out of excuses to keep going.

So as I sit on one of the hard metal benches of the girl's locker room, tying the worn laces of my running shoes, I can't help but feel lost. I can't compress my emotions without a wave of nausea hitting me square in the gut. Any strength I had managed to salvage in the reserve with my father was gone. Stripped away to let the repercussions of my actions over the course of these pass few weeks come flooding back. The human side I had worked to compress, the one that broke down at the first sign of devastation, was fighting back. It was destroying the wall I had built to shield myself from things like remorse, pain, and hope.

With my emotions threatening to destroy what little willpower I have left, I shouldn't be at school getting ready to run track. But with both the principle and Deucalion's threats looming over my head if I do otherwise, I just have to grit my teeth and do what I do best-run.

I dig the sole of my shoes into the forest floor, disturbing the thick layer of rustling leaves. The rest of the gym class surrounds the starting point of the lengthy hiking trail, chatting amongst each other.

I had thrown on a pair of rather tight shorts, a shirt depicting our school logo, and a sleek, skintight jacket. The early morning breeze nips at my exposed skin and I shift back and forth on the edge of my feet, uncomfortably. I catch a quick look at Stiles from across the clearing. He had momentarily stopped stretching to watch me, his brown eyes analyzing my every move. I stop pacing immediately and stand at attention like an obedient soldier, awaiting an order.

The next time he looked at me, the boy wouldn't find one weakness. I will make sure of it. The thought of running back into his arms briefly cross my mind but I force myself to focus on the path that lays ahead.

Unfortunately, the damage had been done. A shadow appears to my left and I'm shoved hard in the shoulder as the person deliberately ignores the courtesy of personal space.

"What do you want, Aiden?" I follow the length of his muscular arms to find the boy's trademark smirk plastered across his face.

"I saw that look you gave him." he states, crossing his arms in a way that makes the veins beneath his skin more prominent.

"What look?"

"A look I haven't seen you wear in a long time. Not since the day we captured you precious boyfriend and left him for dead in the woods."

A ray of light escapes through the canopy of trees, momentarily blinding me. "What are you implying?" I growl in response.

The boy throws his hands up as if I've falsely accused him of murder. "I'm not implying anything. I am here to make sure there aren't any loose ends in this pack. We don't need you running back to Derek like a lost puppy again, now do we?"

The insult brings anger bubbling to the surface, but I channel the emotion into the thought of taking a broken tree branch and ramming it into his stomach.

I go to speak, but I am cut off by the sound of the lacrosse coach, Mr. Finnstock yelling at students to line up. He is an older man who looks to be in his late forties. From what I have learned, the man is loud, sarcastic, and particularly angry at most things in life.

I take my place at the starting point and Aiden quickly follows. Movement to my right brings me to find Ethan preparing to run.

"What are you doing here?" I spit at him before I can stop myself.