The Alpha’s Burning Rejection E-Book

Laura Dutton

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

The Alpha’s Burning Rejection is a raw, emotional werewolf romance about rejection that scars deeper than claws—and a bond that refuses to die.

On the night fate ties her soul to the most powerful Alpha in the region, she expects acceptance, protection, and a future written in the stars. Instead, she is publicly rejected—cast aside with words meant to break her, shame her, and erase her existence from the pack that should have been her home.

But rejection doesn’t weaken her.
It ignites something dangerous.

As secrets rise from the ashes and the Alpha begins to feel the weight of the mate bond he tried to destroy, she is no longer the woman he abandoned. She is stronger, fiercer, and unwilling to bow to a fate that burned her alive once already.

With passion laced in pain, power struggles between packs, and a bond that refuses to stay silent, The Alpha’s Burning Rejection delivers a gripping journey of heartbreak, resilience, and revenge—where love is tested, pride is punished, and rejection comes at a devastating cost.

Perfect for readers who crave:

• Rejected mate werewolf romance
• Fierce female leads who rise from betrayal
• Alpha dominance, regret, and groveling
• High emotional tension and slow-burn intensity
• Dark romance with redemption arcs

Once rejected, she was meant to disappear.
Instead, she became the fire he can’t escape.

Leseprobe

The Alpha’s Burning Rejection

Laura Dutton

Copyright © 2025 by Laura Dutton

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

The information in this ebook is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. All recommendation are made without guarantee on the part of author or publisher. The author and publisher disclaim any liability in connection with the use of this information.

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

Bell Rings, Blood Rules

Scent That Ain’t Supposed to Happen

He Looked Me Dead and Smiled

Claimed in the Wrong Way

The Rejection Heard ’Round Campus

I Didn’t Beg. I Bounced.

Old Bridges Burn Fast

Runaways Don’t Get Rescued

Southside Pack, No Soft Life

New Name. New Rules.

Fire Under My Skin

If I Snap, Everybody Burns

Training Like a Problem

He Came Looking. I Wasn’t Home.

Apologies Don’t Undo Scars

The Girl He Rejected Got Ranked

Enemies Wear School Colors

Set-Up After Seventh Period

Burning Rejection, Burning Hands

The Alpha’s Truth Ain’t Pretty

I Hate That I Still Feel You

Choose: Revenge or Relief

War Talk in the Bleachers

Kidnapped by People Who Know My Name

He Didn’t Save Me. I Saved Me.

Mate Bond? Nah. Partner in Crime.

The Night the School Turned Into a Battlefield

Ashes Don’t Beg to Be Loved

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

The first thing I felt was heat.

Not the good kind. Not the sun-on-your-face kind. This was the kind that crawls under your skin and sits there, daring you to scratch it open. My locker was slammed shut, metal ringing loud enough to turn heads, but nobody said anything. They never do. Eyes slide away quick when trouble’s wearing a crown.

I tasted blood. I hadn’t been hit—yet—but my mouth still filled with it, like my body knew what was coming before I did.

The hallway smelled wrong.

Sweat. Fear. Something sharp and wild that made my chest tighten. Wolves always talk about scent like it’s poetry. To me it felt like a warning flare. Like a siren screaming run, and my feet refusing to move.

He was there.

Not close enough to touch, but close enough to matter. Leaned back against the lockers with his boys posted up like bodyguards, laughing too loud, owning space that didn’t belong to them. He didn’t look at me right away. That was worse. When he finally did, it was slow. Lazy. Like he already knew how this would end.

That’s when it hit.

Hard. Fast. No permission asked.

My breath caught. My knees almost folded. Something snapped tight in my chest, invisible but heavy, like a chain locking in place. I gripped the edge of the locker to stay upright, nails scraping metal, and that’s when he inhaled.

His smile changed.

Not big. Not happy. Just sharp around the edges.

“Oh hell no,” I whispered.

The bell rang, shrill and sudden, but nobody moved. Teachers were still in their rooms. Cameras didn’t cover this stretch of hallway. They planned it like that. Always do.

His boys started murmuring. I heard my name slide between them, twisted up, ugly. The heat inside me flared again, burning brighter, spreading like gasoline. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to hit something. All at once.

He pushed off the lockers and walked toward me.

Each step felt loud even though the floor barely creaked. People watched from the edges, pretending to check phones, pretending not to care. Same faces that would swear they didn’t see a thing later. Same mouths that would repeat the story wrong by lunch.

He stopped in front of me.

Too close.

My heart slammed like it was trying to escape. I could smell him now—smoke and iron and something dark that made my stomach twist. My wolf, quiet for years, stirred like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life.

I hated her for it.

“You good?” he asked.

His voice was calm. That made it worse. Calm meant control.

I didn’t answer. If I opened my mouth, something feral might come out.

He leaned in, just enough for me to hear him and no one else. “You smell like trouble.”

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, dry and broken. “Then why are you standing so close?”

His eyes flashed. Just for a second. Gold burned through the dark, and my breath hitched again. The chain in my chest yanked tight.

Mate.

The word crashed through my head like a curse.

“No,” I said, louder this time.

People heard that.

He straightened, gaze sweeping the hallway, reading the room like it was his. Then he smiled again. Bigger now. Performative. The kind of smile meant for crowds.

“I don’t do mistakes,” he said.

His voice carried. Heads turned.

“And I don’t claim weak.”

Silence fell heavy and thick. Even the heat inside me stuttered.

My ears rang. “What?”

He took a step back, raising his hands like he was innocent. Like he wasn’t about to wreck me in front of everyone. “You heard me.”

A couple laughs broke out. Nervous. Mean.

My chest hurt. Like something was tearing. My wolf screamed, raw and panicked, slamming against the walls I’d built around her.

“You don’t get to—” I started.

He cut me off. “I reject you.”

The words hit harder than any punch ever could.

“I reject this bond,” he said, clear and loud. “I don’t want you. I don’t need you. And I damn sure won’t be tied to you.”

It felt like fire exploded in my veins.

I dropped to one knee, breath gone, vision flashing white. Pain ripped through me, hot and cruel, like someone lit a match inside my ribs and laughed while I burned. I heard gasps. Phones came out. Someone whispered my name again, softer this time, like pity tasted better than respect.

I wanted to disappear.

I wanted to rip the floor apart.

Instead, I pushed myself up.

My hands were shaking. My legs felt wrong. Too light. Too heavy. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stared at the smear of red left behind.

He watched me like he was curious. Like this was all just entertainment.

I met his eyes.

“If you think this ends me,” I said, voice cracking but loud enough, “you don’t know what you just started.”

For the first time, his smile slipped.

I turned and walked away before he could say anything else. Before the pain dragged me back down. Before the fire inside me found a way out that would ruin everything.

I didn’t cry in the hallway.

I didn’t cry in the bathroom either. I locked myself in a stall, slid down the wall, and pressed my fist to my mouth until the shaking eased. My wolf paced, furious, wounded, dangerous. She wasn’t broken. She was angry.

Good.

Because I wasn’t going to beg.

I wasn’t going to disappear quietly.

He thought rejection was the end of the story.

He was wrong.

It was the spark.

And everything after this?

It burns.

Bell Rings, Blood Rules

The bell hit my ears like a warning shot.

I was halfway through the front doors when it rang, and the whole building snapped into motion like somebody yelled “duck.” Lockers slammed. Shoes squeaked. Voices rose and fell in waves. And right away I felt it—the rule of this place.

It wasn’t teachers.

It wasn’t principals.

It was wolves.

Not the kind you see in cartoons. Not the kind people joke about online. Real ones. The kind that look like regular students until their eyes go sharp and their smiles get mean. The kind that can smell fear on you and decide it’s funny.

I kept my head straight and my face blank. That was my first job every morning. Don’t show anything. Don’t invite anything.

I pulled my hoodie tighter even though it wasn’t cold. My fingers were stiff from how hard I’d been holding my strap on my backpack. Like it could keep me safe. Like fabric could stop what this school liked to do to people like me.

People pushed past me like I was air.

A group of girls walked by in matching nails and matching laughs, all glossy lips and loud perfume. One of them looked me up and down and made a face like I smelled bad. Maybe I did. My house didn’t always have hot water, and sometimes the power cut out in the middle of laundry. I wasn’t ashamed of it, but I wasn’t proud either. I was just tired.

A kid’s shoulder bumped mine hard enough to make me stumble. He didn’t say sorry. He didn’t even look back. He just kept walking like he owned the hallway.

I steadied myself and kept moving.

“Yo! Rae!”

That voice cut through the noise like it knew me. I turned my head and saw Tasha waving at me from the bottom of the stairs. She had her hair in two puffs today, hoops on, and that look on her face like she woke up ready to fight the world.

I didn’t smile. Not yet. But the tight feeling in my chest eased a little.

“You made it,” she said when I reached her. “I thought you was gonna ghost.”

“I thought about it,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Girl, stop. You can’t miss. Not today.”

I knew what she meant. New semester. New schedules. New chance for people to act worse than they already did. The school loved fresh starts because it meant fresh targets.

Tasha leaned in and lowered her voice. “You heard?”

“Heard what?”

She looked around first. Not because anyone would snitch—because people loved hearing mess. “They back.”

My stomach dropped like I missed a step. “Who?”

She gave me a look like I was playing dumb. “The Crown boys. The Alpha’s people.”

I felt my mouth go dry.

Everybody knew them. Even if you didn’t want to. You learned fast.

They were the ones who sat wherever they wanted. The ones who took what they wanted. The ones who could break rules and still get called “leaders.” Like being born into power made you special instead of dangerous.

Tasha kept talking, quick and low. “They came back early. Like two days ago. Folks saying he got bigger too. Like… bigger bigger.”

“That’s not possible,” I said, but my voice didn’t sound sure.

She made a face. “I’m just telling you what I heard. Don’t be out here acting surprised when you see him.”

I swallowed. “I’m not trying to see him.”

“You don’t get to pick,” she said, and I hated that she was right.

We started walking toward our lockers. Tasha walked close to me like she was trying to block people’s eyes off me. Like her body could be a shield. I loved her for that, even though it wouldn’t save us if things went bad.

As we moved deeper into the hall, the air changed.

It got thicker. Quieter, but not peaceful. Like the building itself was holding its breath.

Students started shifting to the sides without anyone telling them to. Conversations lowered. Laughter turned fake. Even the loud kids got careful.

Tasha grabbed my elbow. “Don’t look,” she whispered.

And of course my eyes wanted to look anyway.

That’s the thing about danger. It pulls you in like a dare.

They were by the trophy case.

Four of them, posted up like they owned the floor. Not just standing—claiming. Like the hallway belonged to them and we were guests.

I knew three faces right away because everyone did. Big shoulders. hard smiles. That kind of confidence that comes from never being checked.

But the fourth one…

My body noticed him before my brain did.

He wasn’t the loudest. He didn’t move like he had to prove anything. He just stood there, back against the glass, calm like the world would bend around him anyway.

People didn’t brush past him. They curved around. Like a river around a rock.

His eyes flicked up, slow and bored, then back down again, like nobody in this building mattered.

I felt my chest tighten for no good reason.

Tasha tugged me forward. “Keep walking.”

I forced my feet to move.

We passed them with maybe three feet between us. Three feet felt like nothing. Three feet felt like a mistake.

One of the boys laughed at something, then said, “Ayy, y’all see that?”

I kept my face forward.

Another voice, deeper, said, “She lookin’ like she late on rent.”

That laugh hit behind it—mean and sharp—made my shoulders stiffen.

Tasha squeezed my arm like she could tell I wanted to snap back. Because I did. I wanted to turn and spit something dirty. I wanted to make them choke on it.

But that’s how you get hurt here.

Not by fists first.

By attention.

We made it to our lockers. I spun the dial with hands that didn’t feel like mine.

Tasha leaned close again. “Ignore. That’s all they do.”

“They don’t do it to everybody,” I said.

She sighed. “No. They do it to folks they think won’t bite.”

I slammed my locker a little too hard.

The metal clang made heads turn. I saw a teacher glance down the hall, then look away like she suddenly remembered she needed to check her emails.

Tasha’s lips pressed tight. “See?”

I stared at my locker door like it could answer something. Like it could tell me how to survive a place where grown adults chose comfort over right.

“Rae,” Tasha said, softer now. “You good?”

I wanted to say yes.

I wanted to say I was fine, that none of this got to me, that I was tough. But my throat felt clogged. My stomach felt like it was full of rocks.

“I’m here,” I said. “That’s what I got.”

Tasha nodded like she understood. Because she did. She had her own mess. We all did. Some people just hid theirs behind nice clothes and loud jokes.

The hallway started moving again as the first period bell finished ringing. People flooded past us, rushing like grades were life or death. For a lot of them, it was.

Tasha checked her schedule. “We got English first. Same room.”

“Bet,” I said.

We started walking, and for a minute it felt normal. Just school. Just Monday. Just two girls trying to make it through.

Then a body slid in front of us.

Not fast. Not rude. Just enough to stop our steps.

One of the Crown boys. Tall, wide, with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked at me like he already knew my story and didn’t respect it.

“Damn,” he said. “Y’all really still letting broke girls walk these halls?”

Tasha’s jaw tightened. “Move.”

He laughed. “Or what?”

My fingers curled around my backpack strap again. My heart started pounding in my ears. I could smell him—cheap cologne, sweat, and that wolf thing underneath, like old fur in the sun.

“Don’t,” Tasha warned, and she was talking to him but also to me.

I took a slow breath and tried to step around.

He shifted and blocked me again, smiling wider. “Where you going in such a hurry?”

“To class,” I said.

He tilted his head. “You got a mouth on you. That’s cute.”

Tasha stepped forward. “You bored? Go pick on somebody your size.”

His grin slipped just a little. Not because he was scared. Because he didn’t like being spoken to like that.

He glanced past us, toward the trophy case.

And I felt it.

That pressure again. That change in the air.

I didn’t want to look, but my eyes moved anyway, like something pulled them.

The calm one was walking toward us now.

Not rushing. Not showing off. Just coming closer like time belonged to him.

The hallway parted without anyone saying a word.

Tasha’s hand found mine, quick and tight. “Don’t talk,” she whispered.

The boy in front of us straightened like he was suddenly a soldier.

The calm one stopped beside him.

Up close, he looked even worse.

Not ugly—dangerous.

His face was too controlled. His posture too sure. Like he’d never had to doubt himself a day in his life. Like consequences didn’t apply.

His eyes slid to me, and my stomach flipped.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me like he was deciding something.

Then he leaned slightly, not toward my face, but toward my neck. Like he was checking something he couldn’t see.

I froze.

My skin prickled.

And he inhaled.

It was quiet. Nobody else would’ve noticed. But I did.

Because the moment he breathed me in, something in my chest pulled tight, hard enough to make my knees go weak.

Not fear.

Not exactly.

Something else.

Something that felt wrong and deep and way too real for a Monday morning.

His eyes narrowed like he felt it too.

Tasha squeezed my hand so hard it hurt, like she was trying to keep me anchored.

The calm one’s gaze stayed on me, heavy and sharp, and the hallway around us went silent again.

I didn’t know what he smelled.

I didn’t know what he realized.

But I knew one thing the same way you know when a storm’s coming.

My life just changed.

And the bell had only been the start.

Scent That Ain’t Supposed to Happen

I knew something was wrong the second my lungs pulled in that air.

It wasn’t just “he smells good.” It was like my whole body recognized him before my brain caught up. My stomach dropped. My skin went hot. And my wolf—yeah, the part of me I pretend isn’t real when I’m trying to survive—woke up like somebody slapped her.

I stopped walking mid-step in the hallway, backpack sliding on one shoulder, and people bumped my arm like I was furniture.

“Move,” a girl snapped, brushing past me.

I moved. Not because she told me. Because my knees felt soft and I didn’t trust myself to stand still.

The school smelled like it always does—cheap cologne, cafeteria grease, sweat, floor cleaner trying too hard. But under all that was something else. Smoke and metal and heat. Like a warning.

I turned my head without meaning to.

He was down the hall by the trophy case, posted like he owned the building. Big hoodie, chain at his neck, hands loose at his sides. His crew around him, loud and careless, the kind of boys who laugh like they’re daring you to ask what’s funny. Everybody gave them space. Teachers included.

And he wasn’t even doing anything. That’s the crazy part. He didn’t have to.

My best friend slid up beside me and followed my stare. “Nah,” she said under her breath. “Don’t do that. Don’t look.”

“I wasn’t—” I started, but my voice didn’t even sound like mine.

She grabbed my sleeve, nails pressing into my skin. “I’m serious. Don’t get caught staring at him. He’ll turn you into a story.”

I swallowed. My mouth was dry. “Why do I feel… weird?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Weird how?”

I hesitated because there’s no normal way to say, My chest feels like it’s on a leash. I glanced down the hall again, quick, trying to be slick.

And that’s when he inhaled.

He didn’t make it obvious, but I saw it. His shoulders lifted. His head tilted like he caught something in the air. His laugh died on his tongue.

He looked around, slow.

Like he was searching.

My pulse jumped. I looked away fast, heart banging hard enough to make my ears throb.

My best friend stared at me like she could read my thoughts. “Say it,” she demanded. “What’s weird?”

I forced air into my lungs. “It’s like… like I’m in trouble.”

Her face tightened. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

She leaned closer, voice low. “Did you do something? Did you talk to somebody? Did you run your mouth?”

“No.” I shook my head, too fast. “I didn’t do anything.”

She studied me, then her eyes flicked down the hall. She saw the way he was standing now—still, quiet, listening with his whole body. Not bored anymore. Not playing.

Her mouth parted a little. “Oh no.”

“What?” I whispered, panic rising. “What is it?”

She didn’t answer right away. She grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the girls’ bathroom like we were late and the world was ending.

Inside, the air was colder. The fluorescent lights made everybody look sick. Two girls were at the mirror fixing lashes, and they paused when they saw us like they were waiting for drama.

My best friend shoved me into a stall and stepped inside with me anyway, because she never cared about privacy rules when she was scared.

“Okay,” she said, voice shaking but trying to act tough. “Tell me exactly what you felt.”

I stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. Don’t play right now.”

I pressed my palm to my chest. The heat was still there, pulsing. “My lungs burned. Like the air was different. And then I smelled him, and it felt like… like my body leaned toward it.”

Her eyes went wide. “Did you feel sick?”

“No. Not sick. Just—” I clenched my jaw, embarrassed and mad. “Like I wanted to get close and fight at the same time.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Girl…”

“What?” I snapped, because fear always comes out sharp with me. “Say it.”

She swallowed. “That’s bond talk.”

My stomach flipped. “Don’t say that.”

“Listen.” She lifted her hands like she was calming a stray dog. “I’m not trying to scare you, but that’s what it sounds like.”

“That can’t be me,” I said. “I’m not like them.”

She shook her head. “It don’t care who you are. It don’t ask permission.”

I stared at the stall door like it might open on its own. “You’re saying he’s—”

“Don’t say it.” Her voice cracked. “Not in here. Not anywhere.”

I laughed once, ugly and small. “Why? The walls gonna snitch?”

“The pack will,” she said. “People talk. People listen. And if it’s true, they’ll use it.”

I felt the heat flare again, like my body didn’t like being told no. I hated that. Hated feeling controlled by something I didn’t choose.

“Why would that happen to me?” I whispered. “Out of everybody.”

She looked down, then back up. “Because life don’t pick favorites. It picks targets.”

That hit too close. My throat tightened, and I forced myself not to let my eyes water. Crying makes people bold. I learned that early.

A stall door opened across from us. Someone washed their hands, then left. The bathroom quieted again.

My best friend leaned in. “You need to act normal.”

“I don’t feel normal.”

“Then fake it,” she said. “Like always. Keep your head down. Don’t look at him. Don’t breathe near him. Don’t—”

A sharp knock hit the bathroom door. Not the stall. The main door.

Three knocks. Slow. Like somebody had time.

Every hair on my arms lifted.

My best friend went still. “No way.”

I stepped out of the stall before I could stop myself. My legs moved on their own, like the leash in my chest was pulling me toward the source. I hated it. I hated me for moving.

She grabbed my elbow. “Don’t.”

Another knock. Closer, louder, like the person was already inside the room now.

Then I heard his voice. Low, smooth, not yelling, but it filled the space anyway.

“Yo,” he called. “You in here.”

My heart slammed so hard it hurt.

My best friend’s fingers dug into my arm. “Don’t answer. Please.”

I should’ve listened. I should’ve shut up and stayed invisible.

But my mouth opened like it was somebody else’s.

“What?” I said.

My own voice sounded weak to me, and I hated that too.

A pause. Then footsteps—heavy, sure, like he wasn’t worried about being stopped. Like rules were for other people.

He stopped just outside the row of stalls. I could see his shoes under the divider. Clean. Expensive. Like he didn’t have to walk through puddles to get home.

“You got a problem?” he asked.

My best friend whispered, “He can’t be in here—”

He answered her without even seeing her. “Relax.”

I stepped forward, breathing hard. “You can’t just come in here.”

“Watch me,” he said, calm.

The heat in my chest surged like it liked that. Like it recognized his dominance and wanted to bow. I wanted to throw up.

I gripped the sink edge so I didn’t move closer. “What do you want?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he inhaled again. Slow. Like he was tasting the air.

My skin went hot.

My best friend released my arm and moved behind me, like she was ready to fight or run. I didn’t blame her. The vibe was wrong. Too quiet. Too heavy.

He took one step closer.

“Say that again,” he said.

“Say what?”

“That.” His voice sharpened a little. “Your scent.”

My face went blank. “My what?”

He laughed once, short and mean. “Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t.”

“That’s crazy,” he muttered, like he was talking to himself now. “I know what I smelled.”

My stomach twisted. “You don’t smell anything. It’s a bathroom.”

He didn’t laugh this time. He sounded irritated. Like I was refusing to follow a script he was used to people obeying.

He stepped closer again, and the leash in my chest yanked.

I pushed off the sink, anger rising to cover the fear. “Back up.”

His shoes stopped. He didn’t back up. He just looked at me through the mirror like he owned my reflection too.

“You scared?” he asked.

“No.”

He tilted his head, studying me. His eyes looked dark from here, but there was something under it. Something bright, barely held down.

“You should be,” he said.

My best friend snapped. “Get out before I call somebody.”

He didn’t even glance at her. His focus stayed on me like I was the only thing in the room. Like the whole world could be noise and I’d still be the point.

“Where you from?” he asked.

I blinked. “Here.”

He smirked. “Nah. Like… where you really from.”

I didn’t answer. Because what he was really asking wasn’t about streets. It was about blood. Pack lines. History. The stuff people fight over when they got nothing else going for them.

“I said, where,” he repeated, voice low.

I felt it again—that pull. Like something inside me wanted to step forward and confess everything. My wolf pushed against my ribs, restless and furious, like she was tired of being ignored.

I clenched my fists. “I’m not answering you.”

His smile was slow, almost amused. “You got mouth.”

“Yeah,” I shot back. “And you got audacity.”

My best friend made a small sound behind me, like she couldn’t believe I said that out loud.

For a second, his eyes lit in a way that made my stomach drop again. Not anger. Not exactly.

Interest.

That scared me more than hate.

He looked me up and down like he was marking details. Not in a thirsty way. In a I’m going to remember you way.

Then he leaned forward just a little, close enough that I caught the full hit of him again—smoke, iron, heat, like a match struck too near.

My knees almost betrayed me.

I hated myself for that.

“You ain’t supposed to smell like that,” he said softly.

My throat tightened. “Like what?”

His jaw worked like he was fighting words. “Like mine.”

My blood turned cold.

He stared at me for a long second, then his gaze flicked to my best friend. His voice went flat. “Get her out the hallway after third period. Keep her away from people.”

“What?” I snapped. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

He looked back at me, and there it was—cold control sliding over his face like a mask.

“Stay out my way,” he said. “And don’t go telling nobody what you felt.”

“I didn’t feel anything,” I lied.

His eyes narrowed, then he smiled like he already knew I was lying.

And that was the moment my whole body understood something my brain still didn’t want to accept.

This wasn’t going to be a quiet problem.

He turned to leave like he’d done me a favor. Like he had power to spare.

At the door, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.

He looked me dead.

And he smiled.

Not friendly. Not warm.

Like I was about to learn what it costs to be noticed by the wrong wolf.

He Looked Me Dead and Smiled

He smiled at me like he already knew how this was going to end.

Not a friendly smile. Not the kind you give someone you like. It was slow and mean, like he was tasting my fear. Like he was bored and I was something to do between classes.

I tried to keep my face blank. That’s what you do in my school. You don’t give people reactions for free. Reactions are snacks. They’ll chew you up just to hear you crack.

But my body didn’t listen.

The second his eyes landed on mine, my chest tightened like a fist closed around my ribs. Heat slid under my skin again, that same bad heat I couldn’t explain. I didn’t want it. I didn’t ask for it. It showed up anyway, like my blood had its own plans.

The hallway was loud—laughs, shoes squeaking, lockers slamming—but it still felt like everything got quiet around him. Like the space bent to make room. His crew spread out without even thinking. Two on one side, two on the other, blocking traffic like they owned the air.

They did. Everybody acted like they did.

I shifted my backpack higher, eyes down, and started to walk past.

“Yo,” someone said.

Not him. One of his boys. The tall one with the tight fade and the grin that never meant anything good. “Where you rushing to?”

“Class,” I said, like it was a dumb question.

He stepped in front of me. “You got somewhere more important than us?”

I could smell them up close now. Not just sweat and cologne. Something else. Something animal. It hit the back of my throat and made my wolf—my quiet, locked-up wolf—move inside me like she’d been waiting for a reason to wake up.

I hated that part the most.

I wasn’t new to being messed with. I knew the rules. Keep walking. Don’t argue. Don’t show fear. Don’t show anger either, because anger makes them curious.

I went to step around him.

A hand grabbed my wrist.

Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to remind me I wasn’t the one with the power. My eyes snapped up without me meaning to.

It was him.

The Alpha.

His fingers were warm. Too warm. The heat from his palm jumped straight into my skin and ran up my arm like a spark. My breath caught, stupid and sharp, and for a second I couldn’t move at all.

He watched my face like he was reading it.

Then he smiled again.

Right in my face, like he wanted me to feel it. Like he wanted me to know he saw everything happening inside me and didn’t care.

“You look like you wanna swing,” he said.

“I don’t,” I lied.

His grip didn’t change, but his thumb moved, slow, brushing over the inside of my wrist like he had time. Like my whole day didn’t matter.

His boys laughed under their breath. Not loud. Just enough for me to hear it and feel small.

I tried to pull my hand back. His fingers tightened a little, not painful, just firm. My pulse throbbed against his touch. That made me even madder.

“Let go,” I said.

He leaned closer. His scent hit me stronger—smoke, metal, and something dark that made my stomach flip. My wolf pushed against the walls again, restless and hungry in a way that scared me.

“You got a mouth on you,” he said. “That’s cute.”

“Don’t call me cute.”

He tilted his head, eyes sliding over me like I was a problem he didn’t mind solving. “You always talk like that?”

I swallowed. People were watching now. They weren’t staring straight, but they were peeking. Acting like they didn’t care. Acting like this was normal.

In my school, it was.

“Move,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “I’m not trying to get written up because you’re bored.”

That got a real laugh out of one of his boys.

The Alpha didn’t laugh. He just looked at me like I’d entertained him.

Then he let go.

My wrist stung where his fingers had been, even though it shouldn’t. The heat stayed on my skin like a mark. I rubbed it fast, like I could erase the feeling.

He stepped aside, calm as ever, like he’d done me a favor.

“Go to class,” he said. “I ain’t stop you.”

I walked away without looking back. My legs felt shaky but I didn’t let them show it. I kept my pace even. I kept my head forward. I acted like he didn’t just grab me like I belonged to him.

But the hall behind me filled with whispers anyway.

By second period, everybody knew something happened.