One-Way Ticket Out of the Alpha’s Pack Chapter 02

One-Way Ticket Out of the Alpha’s Pack Chapter 02

The next morning, I get a call from Victoria.

She quietly asks me which professor she should take for calculus.

I’m in the middle of a campus job interview, so I lower my voice and answer,

“The course catalog has a bio for every professor. Just pick the one whose teaching style works for you.”

“I’m looking at it, but I don’t understand any of it.”

“Then ask your academic advisor.”

There is a brief pause before she asks, sounding hurt, “Are you still mad at me, sis?”

Before I can answer, Mom takes the phone.

“Eva, you’re good at this stuff. What’s the big deal about helping Victoria pick a professor? She cried half the night because of what you said yesterday. Her eyes are still swollen.”

The interviewer is already calling my name, so all I can say is, “I have to go.”

Then I hang up.

By the time my interview ends, I have more than a dozen unread messages.

Dylan asks me to mail my three years of high school math notes back home. Anthony sends me a club application and asks me to polish it for Victoria.

Mom goes even further and sends me a schedule.

Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday night, I am expected to tutor Victoria for two hours.

I stare at the schedule for a long time.

It lists everything down to the exact starting and ending times. The only thing nobody bothers to ask is whether I have class in the evenings.

Brandon’s message comes last.

“Victoria’s struggling with the basics. Help her get settled for a while. Once she makes some friends, you won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

They have always been like this.

When Dylan has pack patrol training, I’m the one who organizes his territory maps and marks the areas where lone wolves might appear.

When Anthony forgets something, I take the bus to deliver it to him.

When Brandon has problems with his parents or the pack elders, he always expects me to step in and smooth things over.

They call me thoughtful, responsible, and capable, so somehow everyone else’s problems naturally become my responsibility.

I used to think being needed was another form of being loved.

Now I realize even a tool can be useful.

I reply to Dylan first, [I still need my notes. I’m not sending them home.]

Then I reply to Anthony, [Have her fill it out herself.]

Finally, I send one message to the family group chat, [I don’t have time to tutor Victoria.]

The moment I send it, the calls start coming in one after another.

I decline every single one.

It isn’t until after my evening class that Brandon finally sends me an angry voice message.

“You need to let this go, Eva. What Alpha and Luna did with your tuition wasn’t right, and they’ve already promised to pay you back. So why are you taking it out on Victoria?”

I’m standing outside a campus coffee shop, staring at the cheapest meal on the menu.

A sandwich and a drink cost twelve dollars.

From now on, every meal has to come out of money I earn myself, yet they still act as if what I’ve lost is nothing more than a number on a bank statement.

I reply, [I’m not taking anything out on anyone.]

Brandon calls me almost immediately.

“You could help her, but you’re choosing not to. How is that not targeting her? Eva, you weren’t like this before. If you can’t even do this much for her, how are you supposed to become my Luna someday?”

I almost laugh.

So all it takes is one time saying no, and eighteen years of everything I’ve done for them can be erased.

I ask him, “Then what was I like before?”

He doesn’t even hesitate.

“You were thoughtful. Easy to deal with. You never gave anyone a reason to worry about you. You were everything I could’ve wanted in a Luna.”

I tighten my grip around my student ID, “So that’s why you let them take my tuition?”

There is silence on the other end.

A few seconds later, his voice turns cold.

“If you keep acting like this, I’m not coming to see you over Thanksgiving.”

Every time we argued before, he used those words to get his way.

He would cancel our dates, ignore my messages, and deliberately give me the cold shoulder. In the end, I was always the one who apologized first.

I was afraid he would really stop talking to me. Even more than that, I was afraid my whole family would think I was being difficult.

But this time, as I look at the hot food inside the shop, I suddenly don’t have the energy to appease him anymore.

“Then don’t come.”

Brandon is clearly stunned, “What did you just say?”

“Don’t come get me for Thanksgiving. Don’t come at all.”

I hang up and mute the family group chat.

Then I go to the campus library and sign the paperwork for a campus work-study position.

Twelve hours a week. Eight hundred dollars a month.

It isn’t much, but for the first time, it’s money I earn without having to hold out my hand and ask my family for it.