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Trinity
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My fists made contact with the leather of the focus mitts in rapid succession.
"Again." My coach yelled for the umpteenth time. He would drill me on a combo until it felt like my arms were going to fall off. Which was fine with me. Better to know how to fight and protect myself than be one of those defenseless girls out there.
"Hyaah!" I yelled out as I threw the last punch in the combo which Jim taught me this morning. I put my all into the final blow to let him know I was done with this lesson, at least for now.
"Damn Trinity, that hurt." He growled at me, but instead of looking upset, he was actually smiling. The pride I glimpsed in his eyes made me happy.
"Sorry, Jim." I laughed, a small giggle crept into my voice, it was nice seeing how strong I could be.
If you weren't so little, I'd say there was no way you were really a girl." He laughed when he spoke this time.
"Hey, that was mean, Jim."
"It's a compliment, Trinity, and you know it." My complaining had only made him laugh harder. Well, it was the complaining, or it was my pouty look. "You fight better than most of the guys in my gym."
"Which is not difficult to do. Most of them think they need to be the biggest to be the best, which typically leaves them with less speed and more places to hit." I explained to him as I started to unwrap my hand.
"And most of them have no brains at all and can't put those muscles to good use." I couldn't tell him how most of them don't have the added advantages I have.
At those words, Jim practically had to hold on to the wall to keep standing.
"This is why I like you, kid. You've got spunk. And you've definitely got some brains. Now go on, get changed, or you'll be late for your next class." Looking up, I saw he was right. I had to squeeze my training sessions in between my classes at the local college ever since Grandfather stopped paying for my previous instructor.
"Alright Jim, I'll see you next week." I told him before running to the empty and seldom used ladies' locker room.
Time was limited at the moment. So, I hurried through a shower like I usually did before I pulled my long brown hair into its customary high ponytail. I left the tresses to hang and dry into their natural wavy curls.
Afterward, I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt then topped it with a hoodie. Normal college freshmen, especially girls, probably put more effort into their appearance before they went to class, but I just didn't have the time. Especially not right now, I was seriously running behind.
It was at times like these I was glad I actually ran somewhat faster than most people. Maybe not as fast as everyone else in my family, or everyone else in the pack, but definitely faster than a human. I had to actually make a conscious effort not to run too fast as I hurried back to campus.
I made good time and got to class before it started, thankfully. Though it helped when I could sense when someone was coming up in my blind spot or when there would be something in my way up ahead. It was a sort of preternatural gift all werewolves seemed to have which was granted to us by the Moon Goddess. Not that I actually counted as a werewolf technically, but whatever.
The professor came in and started her lecture. This class was a pre-req and therefore a total snore for me. I wanted something that was going to challenge me and make me think. However, they had yet to teach me anything beyond what Grandfather's tutors taught me when I was growing up. I had quite the high-class education and upbringing, but it all ended when I turned eighteen. And while Grandfather still supported me financially, to an extent, it was definitely significantly less than it was when I was a kid.
This was fine by me, though. I'm much happier now that I am out here doing things on my own. I don't have to live my life by his strict rules anymore. Well, not as much anyway. The only rules I really had to follow were those of the pack, which was more than fine by me.
You see, my name is Trinity Whitton, and my family was once extremely high ranked in the hierarchy of the Red Springs pack. My grandfather actually used to be the Beta to the previous Alpha.
However, the former Alpha was killed in an attack only a few years ago. After which his son took over the pack. Although, even Grandfather being the Beta wasn't enough to stop my family from losing face in the midst of a massive scandal.
We wolves are a proud people. Those are the words Grandfather used to tell me every day when I was a little girl. As far back as I can remember. However, werewolf pride didn't stop my mother from disappearing for a weekend when she was fifteen and coming back to face her father's fury.
Then, to make matters worse, they found out she was pregnant. My mother refused to tell them who my father was. Everyone naturally assumed that my father was not a wolf, which in turn, made me an abomination in their eyes.
Regardless, I was still part of the pack, and the previous Alpha had decreed that I was to be treated like any other member of the pack. At least until it was clear whether I would shift like everyone else or not. Our wolf forms usually show at any time between the ages of thirteen and eighteen.
Many think the sooner you shift, the stronger your wolf will be. Though this isn't always true. However, boys will always be boys, meaning they still compete however they can.
Now here I am, nearly nineteen, and I still haven't shifted. I have nearly every other aspect of being a wolf. I have the speed, the strength, the heightened senses, the fighting instinct, everything. In most ways, I was very much a member of the pack. It was clear to see, I'm not a human. Yet, I was clearly not a werewolf either. All of this simply made me feel like I didn't belong anywhere.
I couldn't ask my mother about my father myself. If she was just too scared to talk to her father. Or if she might be less scared now after all these years. The ridicule and shame heaped on my family when she was pregnant and right after she gave birth was too much for her to handle, and she ended up taking her own life when I was less than a month old.
The only thing my mother left behind for me was a pendant she asked to be given to me when I was old enough. I honestly can't believe they followed through with her request. If it were left entirely up to Grandfather, they probably would not have.
However, after my mother's death, I lived primarily with my Uncle Wesley and his wife Eve. They already had two boys, both of whom treated me just like their little sister. And they were arguably the best part of my childhood.
Honestly, life would have been pretty good if it hadn't been for Grandfather. I swear he hates me. He constantly had ridiculously high standards for me. Always saying things like I would never be allowed to make the same mistakes his poor excuse for a daughter made.
Every day for years, I had each of Grandfather's rules drilled into me. I was not allowed to attend public school with my cousins and the rest of the kids in our pack. I was forced to train and learn many different things. My lessons included things like etiquette, martial arts, ballet, boxing, fencing, foreign languages, musical instruments, and a ridiculously hard curriculum.
Grandfather paid for all my lessons with the hopes I would eventually shift by the time I turned eighteen. Then he could at least marry me off to a good family and use me to regain some of his status in the pack hierarchy.
However, my birthday came and went. And it became more than abundantly clear to everyone. I simply wasn't going to shift. This meant I had no wolf. I was officially an abomination. A freak of nature. Something which shouldn't be mixed in with the rest of the pack.
Despite all this, I still had to follow all the pack rules. I still had to bow my head and bend my knees if the Alpha gave the order to kneel. His words were like a compulsion to the pack, and we were unable to defy them.
And even with all this, I was still treated as an outsider by most of the higher-ranking families. Like I was someone who didn't belong with all the cool kids. And I tried my best not to let it bother me. Or to show that it did.
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