Chapter 56: Aina And Sports Don’t Mix

Aina

The entire day had been a slow, agonizing descent into complete insanity.

In every single one of her classes, Aina hadn’t focused on a single word her professors said. She sat at her wooden desk, tapping her pencil against her knee, staring blankly out the window as her mind ran in chaotic, terrified circles.

She was worried sick about Valkry-Rugby practice. But far worse than her impending athletic doom was the deafening, unnatural quiet that hung over the academy. Her greatest fear was the simple, terrifying fact that none of the three royal princes had come looking for her. She had even overheard Molly confirm that the princes’ trackers hadn’t found a single trace of their fated mate in the pine forest... yet everything remained eerily silent.

Why haven’t they blown up on me yet? Aina panicked internally, wringing her hands beneath her desk. It’s too quiet. Something is wrong. Things are going to be so, so bad.

When the agonizing afternoon bell finally chimed, Aina moved like a ghost. She slipped into the campus gym, hiding out in the dark, empty storage closet until every last boy had changed into their athletic gear and cleared out of the locker rooms.

She quickly threw on the mandatory Shadow-Fang uniform—a tight black shirt and matching black shorts—adjusting her hair and sleek titanium glasses before stepping out into the blinding light.

The sun hit her face with a sudden, oppressive heat as she made her way toward the massive stone Colosseum field. She was late, of course, because she had waited out the crowd before she could enter the changing rooms. She forced her chin up and played up her boyish posture as she stepped onto the grass.

Coach Vane stood near the sidelines, his broad arms crossed over his leather vest. The moment his sharp eyes locked onto her, he let out a loud, mocking whistle. "Oh, what a absolute pleasure that you could finally decide to join us, Whitelock!"

Oh, eat absolute shit, Aina snapped violently in her head, glaring daggers at the coach.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Coach," she called out aloud, her voice tight and forced as she jogged over to where her assigned team—the Shadow Fangs—was standing.

She stood among the towering, broad-shouldered Lycans on her team, looking like a fool in her black uniform. But when she glanced across the field toward the opposing team, the Sun Claws, a sudden, sickening drop hit her gut.

Standing right at the front of the Sun Claws were Malric, Vance, and Theo.

All three royal brothers were staring directly at her. Their dark, predatory eyes burned with a terrifying, unspoken fury. Aina could feel the aura radiating off them from fifty yards away, it felt like heavy, suffocating static in the air.

Something is deeply, horribly wrong here, Aina thought, her chest tightening as her heart hammered violently against her ribs. They know. They know I lied, and they are literally about to batter me into a million tiny pieces.

For the absolute first time in her life, Aina desperately wished this brutal sports game required some sort of thick, metal body armor. It was completely insane to her that a bunch of monstrous, super-strong shifters were expected to ram into each other at full speed without a single piece of protective gear on.

Coach Vane stepped out into the center of the field, clapping his broad hands together. "Alright, listen up! This is a simple practice session! Everything must remain friendly! It’s just a game, gentlemen, there is no tournament on the line today! Just basic drills and a quick scrimmage! Keep it clean!"

Aina scoffed under her breath. Clean my ass. Coach Vane raised his brass whistle to his lips and blew a sharp, piercing blast. Simultaneously, a massive brass horn blared from the top of the Colosseum walls, signaling the start of the match.

Coach Vane hurled the official game ball straight into the sky. It wasn’t a soft leather ball, it was a heavy, gleaming iron sphere, tossed high into the afternoon sun.

In a matter of seconds, a chaotic roar erupted across the field. Broad, heavy bodies surged forward from both sides, a sea of muscle and claws rushing straight toward the falling sphere.Aina didn’t move an inch. She stood off to the far side of the field, her eyes wide with terror as she watched the monstrous shifters collide with sickening thuds.

"Whitelock!" Coach Vane’s furious roar echoed across the field from the sidelines. "Get your lazy ass into the game right now!"

Aina flinched. "Okay! Okay!" she yelled back. She took a deep breath and began a slow, hesitant trot forward. But before her boots could even cover ten yards, a dark shadow suddenly eclipsed the sun beside her.

Out of nowhere, a massive, muscular frame slammed directly into her side like a speeding freight train.

Aina’s breath left her lungs in a sharp, painful gasp. The sheer force of the impact launched her body straight through the air. She flew across the field, crashing violently onto the hard turf and rolling through the dirt for several yards before coming to a brutal stop on her back.

A agonizing, white-hot pain shot straight through her ribs.

Why... why did I even get hit?! Aina sobbed internally, gasping for air as her vision swam. I don’t even have the ball! I’m not holding the stupid iron sphere!

She pushed herself up on her shaking elbows, coughing violently as she looked to her side. Standing right above her was Vance in the distance. He looked down at her with a cool, completely unbothered smirk, dusting off his black sleeves.

"Oh... I’m so sorry, Whitelock," Vance said, his voice dripping with blatant, cruel sarcasm. "I didn’t see you there."

Didn’t see me my absolute foot! Aina raged in her head, tears of sharp pain pricking the corners of her eyes behind her glasses.

Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to stand up on her trembling legs, clutching her bruised ribs with one hand. But right as she straightened her back, a loud voice shouted from her left.

"Whitelock! Catch!" a Lycan boy from her own team screamed.

When Vance had shoved her, he had launched her directly near the end zone post—the exact spot where her team needed to tap the ball.

Pure, primitive survival instinct took over. Aina opened her hands, and the heavy iron sphere slammed directly into her palms. The entire field went dead silent for half a second. All eyes instantly locked onto her.

Aina stared at the heavy metal ball in her hands, her heart jumping straight into her throat. Being as utterly clueless as she was when it came to sports, her brain completely short-circuited. Instead of taking two simple steps forward to tap the post right in front of her, panic seized her soul.

Aina turned on her heel and ran in the exact opposite direction. She sprinted at full speed toward the far end of the field, holding the heavy iron sphere against her chest like a prized sack of potatoes.

"What is he doing?!" The coach roared from the sidelines. A terrifying thunder of heavy boots erupted behind her as the entire Sun Claws team, along with her own confused teammates, chased after her like a pack of rabid wolves.

"Get him!" Vance barked from behind.

Aina’s lungs burned, but pure fear fueled her legs. Because she was so small and agile compared to the massive Lycans, she began wildly dodging, jumping, and ducking under their heavy arms. She slipped right through their giant fingers, spinning around brute tackles like a slippery eel.

For a wild, fleeting second, Aina actually thought she was going to make it. "Why are you going the wrong way?!" a Lycan boy from her team shrieked in absolute agony from across the field.

Aina blinked, her mind stumbling over the words. "What?!" she gasped out loud, glancing back over her shoulder in complete confusion. That singular second of distraction proved fatal.

She turned her head back just in time to see Malric looming directly over her like a wall of dark, unyielding stone. His golden wolf eyes burned with absolute vengeance. Without a single shred of mercy, Malric brought his massive arm across, shoving her down into the hard dirt with brutal, crushing force.

Aina smashed into the ground, a sickening, sharp CRACK echoing loudly across the silent field. The heavy iron sphere flew up into the air and landed directly on her left wrist, pinning it against the hard earth. A high-pitched, blood-curdling scream tore straight from Aina’s throat as unimaginable, excruciating pain shattered through her arm and ribs.

TWEET!

Coach Vane blew his whistle frantically, signaling an immediate pause to the scrimmage.

Aina lay flat on her back, staring up at the bright, blinding blue sky as hot tears ran freely down her cheeks, soaking into her hair.

The world around her began to blur and spin. Her lungs felt like they were literally on fire, taking in shallow, agonizing gasps of air as her entire body throbbed with intense, unbearable agony.

Shadows blocked out the sun as a swarm of academy medical staff rushed over, surrounding her prone form with wide, panicked eyes.

Yeah... yeah... Aina thought through the haze of agony, a twisted, desperate sense of victory washing over her shattered mind. At least... my plan worked. I got hurt. I’m out of the game. Thank Goddess... I hope my hand doesn’t work for the rest of the entire school year...

Her vision began to darken at the edges, the excruciating pain pulling her toward unconsciousness. Yet even as her body broke, a deep, burning hatred for the three royal princes raged like wildfire in her heart.

I hate them, she wept softly in her mind, her breath fading as the medics lifted her onto a stretcher. I hate those princes with every single fiber of my soul... Please, Headmaster Roiner... come back soon... I can’t keep doing this...

And with that final, desperate plea, the world went completely black.