Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Chapter 242: 242. The Scars We Hide

Maisie

Mercer once told me that the second you let your emotions enter a fight, you already lost.

Tessa came at me with a frustrated scream, and it had been five long minutes of ducking, side stepping and dodging her blows efficiently. Though I hadn’t struck her back, she was red-faced, her cute ponytail hanging around her shoulders as I kept spinning out of the way.

I thought happy thoughts.

I thought of the mornings I woke beside my mates. I thought about breakfast in the mansion’s kitchens. I thought about France. I thought about home.

Tessa’s claws came striking for my face. She was so predictable, always angling to tear off my face. I guessed she wasn’t lying when she said she hated my face.

I tipped back and punched her in the throat.

She wheezed, eyes bulging as she grabbed her neck. I slammed my knee into her stomach and drew back my fist.

The crack of my fist shattering her jaw echoed in the yard, and she hit the dirt with a thud at my feet.

I hummed a tune in my head, drowning out the sounds coming from within and around me.

Happy thoughts. I could beat her without looking like a monster. Level headed. I just had to remain level headed.

I thought about Mercer. I want all of you, wildcat.

Tessa growled low in her throat, leaping and spinning mid air, her foot flying for my head.

I stepped back easily, slipping into a smooth foot work I’d seen Jericho pull while sparring with Mercer, and I stepped behind Tessa, catching her by her hair.

Happy thoughts.

I wrapped her silky hair around my fist.

Really, really happy thoughts.

I slammed her face into the dirt. I watched myself push her face further into the dust with a sense of detachment. Her head felt so fragile in my hands. I thought if I pulled hard enough, I could tear it off her neck.

I began to pull. NoNoNoNo–happy thoughts. Ice cream. Hot sex in the shower. Chocolate cake. Making out on the kitchen counter–

Tessa gasped, her fingers curling around a fistful of dust. But I’d seen that move before. I let her go abruptly, putting enough distance away from us before I could resume tearing her head off.

She looked a mess. Her eyes were a watery mess. Her face was blotchy and her nose bloody from where I punched her. Her hair... well, I had a few strands between my fingers. Her lipstick was smudged with dirty.

It was becoming startlingly clear that whatever lesson Warren wanted to teach the class today wasn’t what they were learning, and this wasn’t exactly going where everyone wanted it to.

The cheers had quietened and silence had fallen, and I cocked my head at Tessa as she watched me with hatred. "Want to go again? You must really like the taste of dirt in your mouth."

Her eyes flashed black. But she didn’t shift. She wouldn’t. It was almost insulting that she would need to shift to beat me. I wasn’t even using my Lycan.

I anticipated her move, but then she feigned right, and her claws swiped left, for my chest. I doubled back, but it hooked on my shirt anyway, and tore it clean off my body.

The quiet in my head broke and I heard the horrified gasps of my peers echo all around me as I stood in my bra and shorts.

The cold air licked up my arms, caressing the length of my torso. My back. And my breath hitched.

I knew what they were looking at.

It was why I wore nothing else but the ugly sweatshirts and long sleeved clothes.

My body was riddled with scars, not just from trying to survive the craziest nine months of my life, but there were others, from my fall off the cliff. From the surgical stitches that scabbed over when my body refused to heal itself. And it didn’t help that they looked ashen in colour, like stretches of pale looking tattoos running along my skin.

Dr. Levi had many explanations for why it didn’t fade, even after all of the ash left my system–much like my paralysis and my sudden immunity to ash, but had no solution on how to get rid of them.

He thought they would eventually fade, with time. But they looked the same way they did when I left the hospital.

I wasn’t usually conscious of it, having barely had the time to look in the mirror while being on the run, but being bared before the public like this, it felt like my pain, my loss was being thrown out in the open before I was ready to share it.

I didn’t care so much for everyone else’s opinions of me, as I cared for my mates. I was frightened of lifting my gaze and finding Soren looking at me with disgust. Or Jericho looking appalled.

I clutched my arms to my chest, balking from all the stares, the whispers.

Freak, I heard someone say.

I recoiled.

"Maisie," I heard Jenny gasp softly.

The horror warred the sympathy and while it registered in some part of my brain that Tessa revealing my scars to everyone seemed to be working in my favour, it was too much to process.

Tessa recovered swiftly from the shock of her own actions, the shock of what she had accidentally revealed to my mates, the Council, to anyone who cared enough to ask the right questions.

Already, I could see Soren’s outline in my peripheral vision. He was making his way over. I couldn’t tell the truth. I couldn’t lie anymore, either.

Panic flared under my skin and with it came the need to run, flee as far as I could from this mess of a situation.

I stumbled a step back, ready to bolt, when Tessa muttered, "Maybe you didn’t die, but at least, something good came out of that night."

I halted. And looked back. "What did you say?"

She wiped the blood from her face and said under her breath so only I could hear, "No one’s going to want to touch you when you look like a fucking corpse. Might have as well died with your chi–"

I was on her before she got the last word out.

We hit the dirt hard, rolling over each other and I landed on her. And before my fist connected with her face, she smirked, "You lose."

I lost it. I didn’t care. Didn’t care about the council watching or preserving my image. I didn’t care about anything else but the rage.

I punched her again. And again. And again. Knuckles to cheekbone. Knuckles to mouth. Knuckles to the same place I’d already split open.

Something warm sprayed across my wrist. Red sprayed in the dirt.

Didn’t care.

I could hear her making sounds under me, choked and wet. Laughter.

She was laughing at me. It only fed the monster tearing through my chest.

She killed Lyon. She had taken every good thing I had in my life and turned it to ash. She put these scars on me. And now she wanted to stand in front of the entire school and laugh about it.

I hit her harder.

Someone shouted my name. Hands grabbed at my shoulders. I snarled and threw an elbow back without looking.

I felt it connect, felt the grip loosen. I didn’t stop. My world to the sick, satisfying give of flesh under my fists.

Rage and grief poured out of me until my arms shook and my vision blurred red at the edges.

"Maisie–fuck–stop!"

Didn’t want to. Couldn’t.

A stronger pair of arms locked around my waist from behind and wrenched me backward. I thrashed, still swinging, still reaching for her, a cry tearing out of my throat that didn’t sound human.

Something hard slammed into the back of my head then and the dark rushed in.

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