Chapter 8 The Games

• Beta's POV
• The stadium buzzed with excitement. The air thick with the sound of cheers, the distant hum of the crowd. My team had just scored the final touchdown. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I scanned the field, watching my teammates jump and scream, celebrating their win.
• Sam slapped me on the back. “That’s how we do it! We won, Beta!”
• I forced a smile, but it felt empty. Victory should’ve felt better than this. Nothing ever changes at home. Nothing.
• I looked at Sam as he laughed, still caught up in the moment. "Come on, man. Don’t look so serious. We did it! This is the start of something big!" His grin was wide, his eyes full of excitement, completely unaware of what was eating at me.
• “Yeah,” I muttered, staring at the field as people flooded in to congratulate the team. "We did it."
• Sam walked off to join the others, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much I achieved, things were slipping through my fingers. The game didn’t matter. There was something deeper I had to face, something I needed to understand. I just didn’t know how.
• The sound of clapping pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned and saw my mom standing at the edge of the field, her expression unreadable.
• “Well, you won,” she said flatly, her voice cold. “was that all you wanted?”
• My heart sank. I’d hoped, just once, she might show some emotion, maybe pride, maybe even care, but she just stood there, detached.
• “Yeah, Mom. We won,” I said, forcing a smile. “You should’ve come early to watch.”
• “I don’t have time for games,” she replied. Her voice was as indifferent as always. “Congratulations, I guess. Now, go get your stuff and get home.”
• I watched her turn and walk away, a wave of frustration hitting me. She doesn’t care. She never does.
• I picked up my gear, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me. The locker room felt just as empty as the field, like I was still alone.
• Later, at Home
• The house felt cold and empty, like it always did. I tossed my bag onto the couch and walked to my room, trying to shake off the frustration clawing at me. But as I passed the kitchen, something caught my eye. The money. The money from school.
• I stopped in my tracks. There it was, sitting on the same bag I had left on the couch earlier. I hadn’t touched it since I found it, but now I couldn’t ignore it any longer. The mystery was eating at me.
• Where did it come from?
• I couldn’t stop myself. I turned back around and grabbed the bag. I walked to my room, sat on the bed, and pulled out the money, counting the bills one at a time. My fingers trembled, and I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or something else.
• The pile was thick, more money than I’d ever seen in my life. I was just about to finish counting when one of the bills caught my eye. There was something on it, a symbol, almost like a brand or a mark. I stared at it, heart racing.
• Wait. I’ve seen this before.
• I held the bill in my hand, studying the symbol. It was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It was like a part of my memory was trying to surface, just out of reach.
• What is this?
• I set the bill aside and forced myself to finish counting the rest of the cash. It was a lot.
• “I have to get out of here,” I muttered to myself. I needed to clear my head. This was all too much, too fast. I was drowning in confusion.
• I grabbed a few bills, deciding to step out for some air. I was old enough now to go into a bar or a restaurant without raising eyebrows, so I walked out the door and headed for the nearest place where I could get some food and drinks. Anything to get my mind off everything.
• The walk was short, but it felt like forever. My mind kept racing, looping through the last few days. The weird pact with Kade. The wolves, the glowing eyes. The mystery of the money. I couldn’t figure out how.
• As I reached the restaurant, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The familiar smell of greasy food and the hum of low conversations greeted me. I found a booth in the corner, slipping into the seat and pushing my thoughts away for a moment.
• I ordered a drink, then leaned back, trying to breathe. But my mind wouldn’t shut off.
• A few minutes passed. The place was busy, but not packed. The waitress dropped off my drink and walked away, her eyes briefly glancing at me. I caught a glimpse of something in the corner of my eye. Someone sitting at the bar, watching me.
• I looked up, but the person quickly turned their head, like they hadn’t been looking at me at all.
• The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. The unease twisted in my stomach, but I forced myself to ignore it, sipping my drink.
• Another minute passed. Then another. The feeling didn’t go away.
• The hairs on my neck prickled, and I finally stood up, grabbing my drink. I needed to leave. The place felt wrong, like there was something I wasn’t supposed to see.
• But then, I saw him.
• Franco