The Alpha Captain Hates Me

Maya's POV The air at the Astra Academy stadium tasted like expensive cologne and impending violence. It was the day of the Inter-Academy Championship, the single most important event of the year. The stands were a sea of shifting silver and midnight blue—the colors of our academy. Thousands of students, alumni, and high-profile sponsors packed the bleachers, their cheers shaking the reinforced concrete beneath my sneakers. I leaned against the rusted chain-link fence near the secondary track, stretching my hamstrings. Unlike ninety percent of the student body, I wasn't wearing a custom-tailored silk jersey or a silver-plated pack pin. I wore a faded gray tank top and running shorts that had seen better days. My name is Maya Lin and I am a scholarship student. That's the least bitter information about me. I am also the daughter of a disgraced Beta who had been accused of treason against the Northern Pack council. To the rich Alphas and high-ranking Betas strutting around this campus, I was worse than a rogue; I was a stain on their pristine floors. “Look at her,” a low whisper hissed from a group of Beta girls standing near the refreshment stands. “Why is she even allowed near the main field? Disgusting.” “She’s only here for the track trials,” another replied, laughing. “The Headmaster needs someone to sweep the podiums. At least she’s fast enough to fetch the trash.” I ignored them, tightening the laces of my worn-out running shoes. Let them talk. My speed was the only thing keeping me in this school. If I lost my scholarship, my father and I would be thrown out of the territory, left to survive in the feral neutral zones. I couldn't afford to care about their petty insults. Suddenly, a massive roar erupted from the stadium, loud enough to rattle my teeth. “And now, entering the field for the opening ceremony is your Astra Academy Captain, future Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, Ethan Vance!” The crowd went absolutely rabid. I looked toward the tunnel. Stepping out into the blinding midday sun was Ethan Vance. He was the academy idol, a terrifyingly perfect specimen of Alpha nobility. He stood at six-foot-three, with sharp, chiseled features, dark hair that fell perfectly across his forehead, and eyes the color of a stormy sea. He carried himself with the absolute certainty of a man who owned the world. In his hands, he held the gold Inter-Academy Championship Trophy, a relic Astra Academy had held for three consecutive years. Today was supposed to be his coronation before he took over his father’s pack next year. “Get ready, track contestants! High knees!” the coach barked from the nearby track line. I snapped out of my thoughts and stepped onto the secondary track, which ran parallel to the main Wolfball field. The timing was chaotic. The opening ceremony procession was crossing the field toward the main stage just as the track team was ordered to run our warm-up relay sprint. “Go!” the coach yelled, slamming his hand down. I exploded off the line. When I ran, everything else vanished, melting into a blur of wind and adrenaline. My heart pounded a steady, powerful rhythm. I passed the first runner, then the second, my feet barely touching the track. I was a bullet or a ghost, name it. But as I rounded the final bend of the track, heading toward the exchange zone, chaos struck. A stray, silver-spiked Wolfball came flying out of nowhere, blasted by a rogue practice shot from the warm-up zone. It bounced violently across the track, right into my path. At the speed I was going, stopping was impossible. I tried to leap over it, but my sneaker caught the edge of the silver spike. My balance shattered and I went flying sideways, completely losing control of my momentum, tumbling off the track and crashing directly onto the manicured grass of the main field. Right into the path of the opening ceremony procession. *CRASH.* I slammed hard into a solid wall of muscle causing a sharp, collective gasp to echo across the entire stadium. Thousands of voices died out instantly. I blinked away the dirt, groaning as I looked up from the grass. I was tangled in someone's legs. Specifically, Ethan Vance’s legs. My heart froze. Ethan was standing there, his face pale with a mixture of shock and sudden, blinding agony. The heavy gold trophy had slipped from his hands, clattering loudly against the concrete base of the stage. But that wasn't the problem. During the collision, his right wrist had caught the full brunt of my flying impact, bending backward at a gruesome, unnatural angle. “What did you do?” Ethan growled. His voice wasn't human; it was the low, vibrating rumble of an Alpha wolf on the verge of snapping. His stormy eyes flared a dangerous, glowing amber. “I—it was the ball—” I stammered, scrambling backward on my hands and knees. Before I could finish, the team medics rushed the field, swarming Ethan. “It’s fractured,” the head medic announced, his voice carrying over the microphone system that hadn't been turned off. “The cartilage is torn. He can't play today. The Alpha cannot play.” A suffocating silence fell over the stadium. Then, the horror set in. Without Ethan Vance, Astra Academy’s Wolfball team was defenseless. The match began an hour later, and it was a s*******r. Our rivals, the Bloodwood Academy, crushed us. Without their captain, their anchor, the Astra team fell apart. We lost the championship for the first time in a decade. By the time the sun began to set, the internet had already branded me a criminal. I sat in the empty locker room, staring at my cracked phone screen. *Students of Astra* had posted a video of the crash. It already had half a million views. > **User9081:** *She did it on purpose! Her dad is a traitor, she’s trying to ruin the pack from the inside.* > **WolfballFanatic:** *SHE RUINED THE ALPHA CAPTAIN. Expel her!* > **CrescentMoon1:** *Look at his wrist. She literally broke our season. Someone make her pay.* A cold sweat broke out across my neck. I was dead. I was completely, utterly dead. “Miss Maya Lin. To the Headmaster's office. Immediately,” the PA system chimed, the voice cold and unyielding. I swallowed hard, stood up on trembling legs, and walked through the hallways. Every student I passed glared at me with hatred. If looks could kill, I would have been shredded to pieces before I reached the top floor. I pushed open the door of the Headmaster's office. Headmaster Vance—who also happened to be Ethan’s uncle—was sitting behind his massive desk. Standing by the window, his right arm bound tightly in a black medical cast, was Ethan. The moment I walked in, Ethan’s gaze locked onto me. The air in the room grew heavy, suffocatingly dense with Alpha pressure. He looked at me as if I were a cockroach he wanted to crush beneath his shoe. “Maya,” HEADMASTER Vance said softly, though his eyes were hard as flint. “The board is furious. The sponsors are withdrawing. The academy's reputation has taken a devastating hit because of today's... incident.” “It was an accident, sir,” I said, keeping my chin high, refusing to let my voice shake. “A rogue ball tripped me. I didn't mean to hit him.” “Save yours lies, Lin,” Ethan spat, stepping forward. The scent of burnt ash and angry mint flooded my senses. “You’re trash. A traitor’s daughter who doesn't belong here. You destroyed everything this team worked for all year.” “I am not lying. I am a track student, Vance. I have a right to be on that field,” I snapped back, my pride overriding my fear. “I didn't ask to trip over a poorly managed practice ball.” “Enough,” the Headmaster raised a hand, cutting off the tension. What followed was a strange, calculating smile etched across his face. “We cannot undo the injury. Ethan’s position as the Mid-Forward Striker requires unparalleled speed and reflexes. Without it, our seasonal ranking will drop to zero, and the academy will lose millions.” He leaned forward, interlocking his fingers. “The academy by laws state that if a star player is injured due to a student's negligence, that student must fulfill the vacancy if they possess the physical qualifications. Our tracking metrics show that you, Maya, are the only student on campus whose top speed matches Ethan's position.” My breath hitched. “What?” “Starting tomorrow,” the Headmaster declared, “you are stripped of your track status. You are being transferred to the varsity Wolfball team as the new Mid-Forward Striker.” Ethan froze. The anger on his face morphed into absolute disgust. He slammed his uninjured left hand onto the desk. “Are you insane?” I watched him growl those words at his uncle, the head-f*****g-master. “She’s a girl. The same person who broke my wrist! I’d rather forfeit the entire season than play with her.”