Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 228: Deafening Memories

Chapter 228: Deafening Memories

Liam’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know what came over me.

One second, I was standing in the hallway, drowning in the hushed whispers of students murmuring about the enforcers and also Mai’s beautiful voice. The next, something primal and unshakable took over.

Then, my fist connected with Mr. Dawson’s face.

A sickening crack echoed through the corridor, sharp and final.

He staggered back, his hand flying to his jaw, his eyes blown wide with disbelief. Gasps surged through the crowd like a shockwave, a ripple of stunned silence before the chaos. Every gaze locked onto me, but I didn’t care.

My entire body vibrated with fury, my breath ragged, my fists still clenched. One punch wasn’t enough. Not even close. He deserved more—so much more.

The enforcers barely had time to process what had happened. Their hands were still gripping Dawson’s arms when the moment shattered.

"Get him out of here," the lead enforcer barked.

Dawson lurched forward as they yanked him along, still struggling, still protesting. "This is a mistake! I didn’t do anything!"

Liar.

His smirk from before was burned into my mind—the same smug, deceitful grin he wore when he tricked me. I had been foolish, blind. And now, I wanted to wipe that expression off his face permanently.

I stepped forward, ready to finish what I started.

Then, arms wrapped around me from behind, firm yet warm.

"Liam."

Mai’s voice was soft but steady, her presence pressing against me like an anchor. "Breathe. He’s done. He’s gone."

I couldn’t move. My rage felt too big, too consuming.

Her grip tightened, her breath warm against my shoulder. "Please. Look at me."

My chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. The anger still burned, but I turned slightly, my eyes locking onto hers. There was no fear in her gaze. Only concern. Only understanding.

"Liam."

She said my name like it meant something.

Like I meant something.

Beside me, Eldur stood silent, watching with a frown, his expression unreadable.

When our eyes met, the anger twisted, deepened.

I hated him. I hated him all over again for the pain he had caused me. No matter how much time we spent together, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling it.

Then, Ollie’s voice cut through the thick tension, loud and dripping with sarcasm. "Alright, people, show’s over! Go back to your boring lives and stop gawking."

The crowd hesitated, then slowly scattered, their murmurs fading into the background. But the storm inside me still raged.

Mai hesitated for a moment, her fingers lingering on my wrist before she finally let go. "Come on," she said gently. "Let’s get back to class."

I nodded, but my mind was nowhere near the present. It was trapped—shackled in the past, where the pain never truly faded.

The numbers on the page warped, shifting into symbols of torment, the letters bleeding into dark, writhing shapes. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out the world around me. My chest tightened, lungs seizing like they had back then—when the air had been thick with incense, blood, and something far worse.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

My fingers clenched around the pencil, the wood creaking under the force of my grip. But even that wasn’t enough to ground me.

Then—Dawson’s voice. The witches’ laughter. Cold, sharp as glass, slicing into me. Their magic burned like liquid fire, latching onto my veins, filling me with agony so pure it blurred the lines between life and death. Shackles dug into my wrists, my ankles, cutting into raw, bruised skin. I remembered the scent of damp stone, the taste of iron in my mouth, the way their chants coiled around me like a noose. They played with my suffering, dragged it out until I was nothing but a hollow, broken thing, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

I had begged for it to end. I had prayed for death.

But they hadn’t given me that mercy.

The memory twisted like a blade in my gut. My stomach churned, nausea rising fast. My throat closed, breath hitching. I pressed a hand against the desk, trying to steady myself, but the ghosts of my torment clung to me, whispering, You can never escape.

And maybe they were right.

I need air.

My hand shot up before I even processed what I was doing. "Sir, can I use the restroom?" My voice barely sounded like my own.

The teacher barely glanced up from his desk. "Go."

I was out the door in seconds.

The icy water stung against my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat crawling beneath it.

I gripped the edges of the sink, knuckles white, forcing myself to meet my own gaze in the mirror. The burn scars peeked from beneath my hair—faint, but ever-present. A silent reminder. A scarred brand of everything I’d survived.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

My fists clenched at my sides. My heartbeat pounded, too fast, too loud.

"Liam, I need you to focus."

North’s voice echoed through my mind, calm, grounding.

"I’m trying," I whispered back, my lips barely moving.

"Good. Keep trying."

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the sink. The weight in my chest refused to lift.

Then, the door creaked open, and laughter spilled into the room.

I straightened, shoulders tensing as I turned. A group of five boys strolled in, their voices loud, confident. At the center of them stood someone I recognized instantly—tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline too much like Dawson’s.

My stomach twisted.

Jamie. Dawson’s son.

His lips curled into a smile, but there was nothing warm about it. "Well, well. Look who we have here."

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Jamie’s grin stretched wider. "What’s wrong, Rivers? Not so tough now, huh? Guess punching my father in front of the entire school made you feel like a real big shot."

I exhaled slowly. "Do you even know what he did to me?"

Jamie shrugged, utterly indifferent. "I don’t care." His expression darkened, voice lowering. "All I care about is that you humiliated my father in front of his colleagues and students. And that—" he stepped closer, eyes burning with something sharp and vicious, "—is unforgivable."

I barely had a second to react before his fist drove into my stomach.

Pain exploded through my ribs, knocking the air from my lungs. I staggered back, gasping, my hands gripping the sink to steady myself.

Laughter rang around me, bouncing off the tiled walls. Mocking. Amused.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my body upright, forcing myself to push past the pain.

I wasn’t the same terrified kid from before.

I wouldn’t let them—

Jamie took another step forward, his voice dropping into something almost playful.

"I heard something juicy." He leaned in slightly, like he was sharing a secret. "I heard you’re afraid of fire."

Everything inside me turned to ice.

My pulse stuttered. My breath caught.

I took a step back.

The boy’s grin widened as he reached into his pocket, his movements slow, deliberate.

A lighter glinted under the fluorescent lights as he pulled it out. Small. Shiny. Terrifying.

No. No, no, no...

He flicked it open with a sharp metallic click. The tiny flame flared to life, casting flickering shadows across his smirking face.

My vision blurred. My chest constricted.

Not again. Not again.

"Let’s finish what Mai started but didn’t have the balls to," he sneered, stepping closer, the fire glowing between us like a living threat.

I stumbled back, but hands clamped onto my arms, yanking me to a stop.

Panic surged through me like ice in my veins. My heartbeat slammed against my ribs.

"Breathe, Liam."

North’s voice, urgent and firm, cut through the chaos in my head.

"Liam, listen to me. It’s just fire. It can’t hurt you. Not unless you let it."

"I can feel it, North. I can already feel it."

"No, you can’t. It’s in your head. You’re stronger than this!"

But I wasn’t. Not now. Not when the past was unraveling all over again, swallowing me whole.

The lighter’s flame flickered, growing brighter as Jamie raised it toward my face.

I thrashed, yanking at the hands pinning me down. "Please—"

Jamie’s expression darkened. "You should’ve kept your hands to yourself, Rivers."

The fire inched closer.

"Liam, please! You have to calm down. You’re going to shift if you don’t get a grip—"

Terror clawed at my throat, my mind spiraling.

Not again. Not again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but the heat was already there, licking at my skin, seeping into my bones.

"I can’t do this, North—"

"Yes, you can! You have to fight!"

Then, I heard—

"Dude, maybe this is too much," one of the boys muttered, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "We’ll get in trouble—"

"Shut up," Jamie snapped. "Watch the damn door."

The lighter hovered inches from my face.

I tried to twist away, to escape, but their grip only tightened.

The air thickened, pressing in, suffocating me.

I was trapped.

And this time—

There was no way out.

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