•••••• One Year Ago ••••••

Jonas knew he shouldn't have let himself be goaded into entering that classroom, but the constant bullshit was wearing him down. Every day felt like an endless cycle of torment, and he was exhausted from holding back. He had refrained from hitting back since sending Michael to the hospital, but six months of suppressing his rage had taken its toll.

Chuck's words echoed in his mind: if you fight angry, you get sloppy. But at this point, anger was all he had left. It simmered inside him, waiting to erupt, and today, he wanted to let it loose.

With a determined stride, Jonas walked into the classroom. The chairs were haphazardly pushed to the side, creating a makeshift arena. About ten kids stood around, their laughter and jeers blending into a cacophony of mockery. Their faces were twisted with anticipation, eager for the spectacle about to unfold.

He dropped his backpack and shrugged off his jacket. "Let's get this shit done and over with."

A larger kid, Jay, stood at the center of the group, a sinister grin on his face as he held a bottle. He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Poor little wolf has lost his pack. It's about time the fucking Golden Boy is forced off his throne."

The room seemed to hum with tension as Jay's words hung in the air. The other kids' laughter grew louder, feeding off Jay's taunt. Jonas met Jay's gaze with a cold, steely glare.

Jonas laughed coldly, a chilling sound that cut through the noise. "Do you really think being an Elite is everything in life?" His voice dripped with disdain, each word a deliberate challenge. "Fuck your games, Jay, and fuck your throne."

Jay's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, sneering at Jonas. The kids around them sensed the shift in the atmosphere, their jeers dying down as they waited for the confrontation to escalate.

Jay's sneer deepened, his face twisted with malice. "Game? This is more than that. It's an extermination." His words were a venomous hiss intended to strike fear and assert dominance.

Jonas met his gaze with almost bored indifference. "Good thing I'm resilient," he replied, his voice flat and unyielding.

Jay's sneer turned into a mocking grin. "I'm surprised you are, considering who started this. I mean, wasn't Lukas your best friend?"

The mention of Lukas hit Jonas like a physical blow. His body visibly shook, his arms falling limply to his sides. The cold, confident façade he had maintained began to crumble. "Lukas?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

His voice cracked the sound of a breaking heart. It was as if the only support keeping him standing had been ripped away. His best friend, someone he still relied on, was the source of his misery at school.

It had to be a lie. Just another part of the game to hurt him. But why did it sound so plausible? Why did it make sense?

Jonas' mind churned, piecing together the fragments of betrayal—the subtle digs at his confidence, the suspiciously timed advice to stay at St. Vincent's despite his misery. Each memory now painted Lukas not as a friend but as a traitor. The realization was a cold, sharp dagger twisting in his gut.

Lukas was behind this all along.

The room around him blurred, and the jeers and laughter of the other kids faded into a distant hum. All he could see was Jay's smirk and triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Lukas," Jonas whispered again. His body trembled with the weight of the betrayal, his legs threatening to give out. How could Lukas, his best friend, do this to him? The one person he thought he could trust had been orchestrating his downfall from the shadows.

Jonas' heart pounded, a mix of sorrow and boiling rage flooding his veins. The disbelief was suffocating, the hurt overwhelming, and the humiliation twisted inside him. He had been a pawn in their cruel game, and Lukas had been the mastermind. The pain of betrayal morphed into a fierce, burning anger.

The kids around him continued to laugh, but their voices were now mere noise to Jonas. His world had shattered, and all that remained was the raw, searing betrayal of his best friend. The realization solidified into a cold, hard resolve.

Lukas had underestimated him. They all had. And now, they would face the consequences.

The atmosphere in the classroom shifted abruptly, and the students' laughter faltered as an eerie, maniacal laugh cut through the noise. The kids turned to see Jonas, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, laughing with a wide, crazed smile. It was clear at that moment: he had officially broken.

He lifted his hands and began clapping, each slap echoing in the tense silence as he mocked them with exaggerated applause. "That was impressive, guys, truly impressive. It only took you half a year."

Jay took a step back, his confusion growing. "What do you mean? What took half a year?"

Jonas' eyes blazed with fierce intensity as he sneered, "To accept the truth of being the Wolf." In a sudden, brutal motion, he grabbed Jay by the throat, his grip unyielding. With a merciless snarl, he unleashed a flurry of punches, each strike fueled by the raw, pent-up rage he had been holding back.

Jay flailed wildly, shattering the bottle against a desk in a desperate attempt to fend off Jonas. The jagged edges of the broken bottle glinted ominously as he swung it downward, and a piercing rip sliced through the room.

Jonas glanced down at his shirt, now saturated with a growing pool of red. The stain spread ominously, bleeding across the fabric.

He laughed again, his voice hollow and detached from the pain. Gripping Jay's hand, which still clutched the broken bottle, Jonas twisted his wrist until a sickening crack echoed through the room.

Jonas maintained his chilling smile, his eyes locked on Jay. "You all took off the muzzle; now deal with the bite."

With cold determination, Jonas grabbed Jay by the hair and dragged him toward the window, ignoring his desperate cries and pleas for mercy. He pulled back and slammed Jay's face into the glass. The window shattered explosively, sending shards flying as Jay crumpled to the ground in a heavy, anguished heap. The room erupted in screams as the brutal reality of the moment settled in.

Jonas grabbed the nearest person, his fists flying with controlled ferocity. As he pummeled one victim, he swiftly moved on to the next. He seamlessly incorporated kicks and strikes, targeting anyone who ventured too close or tried to fight back. His movements were precise and instinctual. People fell in rapid succession, like dominoes toppling one after another, while Jonas continued his relentless assault with cold efficiency.

Jonas' pale face was stark against the bright red stain spreading from his wound. Despite the injuries, a twisted grin stretched across his face as he pushed his hair back with his bloodied hands. The blood kept his hair in place and smeared across his forehead and temples, accentuating his menacing, villainous appearance.

When a couple of teachers burst into the room, Jonas' eyes glinted with fury. He seized a chair and hurled it at them with unrestrained force, their startled screams echoing as they scrambled away. Without missing a beat, Jonas grabbed another kid who was attempting to crawl away, dragging him into the fray and continuing his merciless assault.

"Spencer!" one of the teachers yelled.

Jonas tossed the kid aside and faced the teachers with a dark, deranged laugh. "Call me by the name you gave me. Call me fucking Wolf."

As security guards burst into the room, they rushed to restrain Jonas. Despite their efforts, he managed to throw off a few guards and land a few blows before a baton cracked against his face, stunning him. The room was filled with the sobs and moans of the injured students, their cries blending with Jonas' unsettling laughter.

"Isn't this what you wanted? Are you scared of the monster you created?"

As the security guards wrestled him to the ground, they took turns delivering blows. With each strike, Jonas' laughter grew louder, more twisted. But as the beating continued, his mirth became strained, faltering into pained coughs. His head drooped heavily, his body becoming limp as blood dripped from his mouth, staining his chest.

Jonas woke up in the hospital after that ordeal. Eli was sitting next to his bed with a tear-streaked face. Jonas groaned, alerting Eli that he was awake.

"Jo? How are you feeling?"

Jonas laughed but winced from the pain on his side. "Like shit."

"That's what happens when you let someone asshole cut you open," Eli chided.

Jonas closed his eyes, feeling a pang of regret that Eli knew what had happened. "How did you find out?"

Eli's voice trembled as he answered, "It's all over the school. Someone recorded it. I... I saved the video."

Jonas nodded, his mind racing with the implications of the video. It could be a powerful tool if the school tried to threaten him, a way to leverage against them.

He shifted the conversation, asking, "How are you holding up?"

Eli's eyes welled with tears. "I'm acting like you asked me to, but it's hard. I hate it."

Jonas managed a weary smile. "I know it's tough. But if they see you're on my side, they'll target you, too."

"I can handle whatever they can throw at me," Eli said, trying to sound determined but failing to mask his distress.

"But you shouldn't have to," Jonas said gently. "For me, just keep acting like you hate me."

Eli's voice was almost pleading. "Can't we just leave? Run away?"

Jonas shook his head, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "I wish we could. But do you think Dad would let us? I've looked into options, but nothing seems feasible."

"So we just wait? You get beaten and sent to the hospital while I... mock you to fit in?"

"Yeah," Jonas replied, his tone resigned but firm. "That's the plan."

Eli covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. "I can't do this. I just can't."

"You can," Jonas insisted softly. "You're stronger than you know. This act helps me keep myself safe."

"Jo, please."

"When I turn 18, I'll find a way to get you out of there. I promise. I'll figure something out. Can you wait until then?"

Eli hesitated, biting his lip. "Can't you leave St. Vincent's?"

Jonas shrugged, uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't know. If I try, will you endure a little longer?"

Eli thought it over and then nodded slowly his resolve strengthening.

An alarm on Eli's watch startled him. He glanced at the time with a look of resignation. "They think I'm at my piano lessons. I need to go before they realize I'm not."

Jonas sighed his expression a mix of gratitude and concern. "Thank you for being here. Keep your head down. Don't cause any waves."

Jonas had spent several weeks in the hospital, a sanctuary for his physical recovery. During that time, he had met Brett, a kid undergoing rigorous physical therapy. Brett was a bright, intelligent young man who always had a book in hand. His love for reading was evident, and he often shared titles from his collection with Jonas, sparking numerous conversations about their favorite reads. The bond they formed was unexpected but deeply meaningful.

Jonas had been eager to support Brett's recovery. One day, he decided to accompany Brett to his physical therapy session, wearing his St. Vincent's hoodie. He was unaware that this seemingly benign garment would trigger a traumatic response. As soon as Brett saw the hoodie, his eyes widened in horror, and he fell into a full-blown panic attack. The scene was unsettling: Brett's breaths came in ragged gasps, and his face was pale with fear.

Jonas was quick to act. Realizing what had caused the reaction, he swiftly discarded the hoodie, tossing it aside with a sense of urgency. He rushed to Brett's side, helping the nurses calm him down. The terror in Brett's eyes as he struggled to regain control of his breathing was heart-wrenching. Jonas stayed by his side, offering quiet words of reassurance and a steady presence until the worst of the panic subsided.

Rebuilding trust with Brett was a painstaking process that took several days. Jonas remained patient, attending each of Brett's therapy sessions and gradually regaining the young man's confidence. Their bond deepened through shared conversations and mutual support, and Brett eventually began to open up about his past.

When Brett finally confided in Jonas, his story was both shocking and heartbreaking. He revealed that he was the person who had been kidnapped during the Hunt. The St. Vincent's Elites had cruelly tied him to a gravestone for an entire night, subjected him to brutal beatings, and even broken his hip. Instead of returning him to the school, they abandoned him in the graveyard, leaving him alone for another night until a groundskeeper found him. By then, his hip was so severely damaged that he was immobile for weeks.

Jonas was devastated by Brett's story. Brett's pain and suffering were palpable, and the revelation deepened Jonas' commitment to supporting him. Even after leaving the hospital, Jonas continued to accompany Brett to every therapy session, offering encouragement and companionship through his recovery.

But one day, Jonas arrived at the hospital for a therapy session to find Brett missing. A nurse approached him with a somber expression and handed him Brett's favorite book, The Book of Five Rings, along with a note. The note was brief but poignant, a final message from Brett that Jonas would cherish.

Jonas has memorized that note and still had it in the book, sitting on his desk.

Jonas,

My favorite quote in my favorite book is: "Today is victory over yourself of yesterday; tomorrow is your victory over lesser men." This quote used to always give me strength. But now, I'm tired, and victory has become bitter. Please be victorious every single day on my behalf.

Your friend