Xena’s POV

The dam broke. “I just walked in and she slapped me!” I shouted, feeling hot tears spring to my eyes. “I’m sick of this! I’m sick of being disrespected by someone who isn’t even my mother! I hate it here! The day I turn eighteen, I’m gone, and you’ll never see me again!”

I spun on my heel and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. My lip was split, I could taste blood, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the rage coursing through my veins.

I stalked over to the punching bag hanging in the corner of my room, my hands trembling with fury. I started slamming my fists into it with relentless force, each punch driving the anger deeper inside me.

I didn’t stop, not even when the skin on my knuckles tore open, the blood oozing out with every hit. The pain in my joints only fueled me further, the searing throb from my broken knuckles sending waves of torment through my body. But still, I kept going, the sobs swallowed whole by my fury.

I didn’t hear the door open, but suddenly strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides.

“X, calm down!” Logan’s voice in my ear was firm but gentle. “Calm down, sis. I’m sorry.”

I struggled against his grip for a moment before going limp, the fight draining out of me. Leonard and Samuel stood by the door, their expressions a mixture of anger and concern.

“Ama went home,” Logan said, releasing me slowly. “Take a shower and get some sleep.”

Samuel walked up and grabbed my chin, turning my face toward him to examine my cheek.

“It’s nothing,” I said coldly, jerking my head out of his hand.

“You should talk to dad in the morning,” Logan suggested softly.

Dad? It’s useless talking to him no matter how many times we try. He simply can’t really solve this problem.

I nodded numbly, too emotionally exhausted to argue. “Yeah, I will.” I glanced at Logan, whose eyes were full of concern. “I’m kinda tired. Good night,” I managed to force a slight smile for Logan and Samuel.

The two of them exchanged looks, then nodded. Samuel walked to the door, gave me one last glance, and gently pulled it closed behind him.

I took a deep breath, dragging myself to the bathroom exhausted. Thirty minutes later, a hot shower hadn’t improved my mood much.

Just then my phone buzzed. I checked it to find a text from Ama.

Are you okay?

I typed back quickly: Yeah, I’m fine.

Her response was immediate: Don’t believe you, but we’ll talk tomorrow. Maybe Samuel can make you feel better? 😉

Despite everything, I felt a small smile tug at my lips as I replied: Good night.

I woke up early, my body still aching from yesterday’s confrontation with Martha. Touching my jaw gently, I winced at the tenderness. The mirror revealed a faint bruise forming—nothing too bad, but enough that I’d need to cover it.

Quickly, I braided my hair to the side, applying just enough makeup to hide the evidence of last night. I slipped into a flowy pair of shorts and a black bodysuit, grabbing my sandals before heading toward Dad’s office. I knew Martha would still be sleeping, which meant Dad would be alone.

I knocked three times.

“Come in,” his deep voice commanded from the other side.

I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me. “Hi, Dad,” I said, sitting in the chair across from his massive desk. When it was just the two of us, I didn’t have to be as formal.

“Xena, what is it?” He looked tired, the weight of leading our pack etched into the lines of his face.

“She’s making my life hell,” I said, my voice quiet but steady. “Just because I look like Mom. I literally just walked in the door and she attacked me. I know I shouldn’t have hit her back, but I’m tired of being her punching bag.” I said calmly.