The Cold Alpha Is Cruel To Everyone But Me

"Are you seriously sitting out here again?"

I kept my eyes glued to my bruised knees.

Maya crossed her arms, her shadow falling over me. "I asked you a question, Maeve."

"Leave her alone, Maya," Jackson sneered, leaning against the chain-link fence. "If you get too close, the defect might be contagious."

"I just don't understand how a seventeen-year-old Omega still hasn't shifted," Maya said. "It's unnatural. Are you sure you're even a werewolf?"

"I'm sure," I said.

"Prove it." Maya kicked a pebble at my sneaker. "Shift right now. Show us a single claw."

I pulled my oversized sweater tighter around my shoulders. "Class is starting soon."

"Don't ignore me!" Maya barked.

She snatched my backpack from the ground.

"Give that back," I said, standing up.

"What are you going to do about it?" Jackson asked. "Bite us with your human teeth?"

Maya unzipped the main pocket. She dumped the contents onto the dirt. Pencils, textbooks, and my worn leather notebook tumbled out.

"Oops," Maya laughed. "Clumsy me."

"You're pathetic," I muttered.

Jackson stepped forward, his eyes flashing yellow. "Watch your mouth, Omega. You have no rank. No pack. You're nothing."

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. Fighting back meant a trip to the nurse's office. I just needed to survive senior year.

"Hey!" A voice rang out across the courtyard.

The hostility vanished from Jackson's face. Maya immediately smoothed her hair.

Kael Prescott jogged toward us. The golden boy of Oak Creek High.

"Is there a problem here?" Kael asked.

"No problem, Kael," Maya said, her voice instantly turning sweet. "Just helping Maeve organize her bag."

"It didn't look like helping," Kael noted.

He crouched down and began gathering my scattered pens.

Jackson scoffed, kicking the dirt. "Come on, Maya. Let's go inside. The air out here stinks of failure."

They walked away, leaving me alone with the most popular Alpha in school.

"You shouldn't let them talk to you like that," Kael said.

He handed me my math textbook.

"I didn't want to cause a scene," I said.

"A true Alpha doesn't let his packmates suffer."

I stared at his outstretched hand holding my notebook. "I'm not exactly pack material, Kael."

He dropped his hand, offering a sympathetic smile. "You're too hard on yourself, Maeve. Give it time."

"Time ran out two years ago."

"My father always says a late bloomer just has deeper roots." Kael tapped the cover of my diary. "Keep your chin up. Senior year is going to be great."

"Hey, Kael!" A group of cheerleaders waved from the cafeteria doors. "We saved you a seat!"

He turned back to me. "See you around, Maeve."

I watched him jog away.

I sat back down under the oak tree and opened the diary.

*Year three. Day one. He actually defended me.*

My pen scratched against the paper. I traced his name on the page. Three years of writing about him. Three years of hoping his gentle nature meant he could look past my broken wolf.

I closed the book and pressed it to my chest. Just one smile from Kael made the morning's torment bearable.

The warning bell rang, forcing me inside.

Homeroom was a nightmare of assigned seating.

I took a desk in the back corner.

A girl named Sarah sat next to me, then immediately dragged her chair three inches to the right.

"Don't want to catch the dud gene," Sarah whispered to her friend.

I stared straight ahead.

"Maeve," Mr. Harrison called out from the front desk. "Do you have your health clearance form?"

The whole class turned to look at me.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Bring it here."

I stood up and walked to the front.

"Still marking you as unshifted?" he asked, not lowering his voice.

"Yes."

"Seventeen is quite late. The school board requires a medical note if you don't shift by eighteen."

"I know."

"Just making sure." He stamped the paper.

I walked back to my desk. The whispers followed me.

"She's basically human."

"I'd be so embarrassed."

I opened my diary again under the desk. I needed an escape.

*Kael's eyes are so kind. He doesn't look at me like I'm a disease.*

The second bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom.

I packed my bag and headed for the main hallway.

The corridor was packed, buzzing with first-day energy. Lockers slammed. Friends shouted across the aisle.

Then, the noise died. Completely.

"Get back," a junior hissed, grabbing her friend's sleeve.

"Don't look at him."

The crowd parted like the Red Sea.

Thorn Mercer stepped through the double doors.

He wore a battered leather jacket. His dark eyes scanned the corridor, cold and empty.

"I heard he almost killed a guy in the neighboring territory," a sophomore whispered to my left.

"My brother said the teachers are terrified of him," another replied.

The Black King. That was what they called him.

I pressed my spine against the metal lockers. I just wanted to blend in.

Thorn kept walking. His heavy footsteps echoed against the linoleum.

He didn't look at anyone. He didn't have to. The oppressive weight of his aura forced everyone into submission.

I hugged my backpack to my chest.

Just keep walking. Pass me by.

A guy from the football team stumbled backward, bumping hard into my shoulder.

My bag slipped. The broken zipper gave way.

My books spilled across the floor. Again.

And my diary slid straight into the center of the aisle.

Right at Thorn's feet.

He stopped.

The entire hallway froze.

Thorn looked down at the worn leather cover.

"Sorry," I squeaked, dropping to my knees.

I reached for it.

A heavy boot stepped on the edge of the notebook.

I froze.

"Move," I whispered, my voice shaking.

Thorn didn't budge. He stared down at me.

"Is this yours?" His voice was gravel and ice.

"Yes. Please."

He crouched. The sheer size of him blocked out the fluorescent lights overhead.

"You drop things easily, Omega."

My jaw tightened. "It was an accident."

He picked up the journal. His long fingers brushed the binding.

"Give it back," I demanded. My heart hammered against my ribs.

Thorn tilted his head. "You're shaking."

"I'm not."

"Liar."

He flipped the book open.

"No!" I lunged forward.

He held it out of reach with effortless grace. His dark eyes scanned the open page.

The page where I had just written Kael's name.

A muscle twitched in Thorn's jaw.

"Kael Prescott," Thorn read aloud. The syllables sounded like a curse in his mouth.

"Shut up," I snapped.

A few gasps echoed from the bystanders. No one told the Black King to shut up.

Thorn's gaze snapped back to mine. The coldness in his eyes shifted into something sharp. Dangerous.

"You think the golden boy can save you?" he asked.

"That's none of your business."

He snapped the book shut. "He plays nice for the crowd. You're just a charity case to him."

I snatched the diary from his grip. "You don't know anything about him."

"I know enough." Thorn stood up to his full height.

I scrambled to my feet, clutching the book to my chest.

"Stay away from me," I said.

Thorn stepped closer. The scent of pine and impending storm washed over me.

"I wasn't the one who threw my secrets at someone else's feet," he murmured.

He leaned in, his voice dropping so low only I could hear it.

"But if you want to survive this year, little Omega, you'd