MY PSYCHO ALPHA

CHAPTER 8

The library didn’t feel safe anymore.

Not after the book.

Not after the symbol.

Not after the way Alex’s sleeve slid back like it moved on instinct—like his body had reacted before his mind could stop it.

Because the mark on his wrist wasn’t a bruise.

It wasn’t a tattoo.

It wasn’t one of those edgy “I’m mysterious” things guys did to look interesting.

It looked like a brand.

Like something burned into him on purpose.

And the worst part?

The book didn’t just open to the symbol.

It fell open like it had been waiting for me to look.

Like the library itself had decided I needed to see it.

I kept staring at the page until my eyes felt dry.

Then I forced myself to blink and look up at Alex.

He was still. Too still.

His gaze was locked on the book like it was a threat.

The calm mask he wore so naturally—gone.

This version of Alex didn’t look amused. He didn’t look arrogant.

He looked… ready.

Like the second something moved wrong, he’d do something worse.

My throat tightened.

“Alex,” I whispered again. “Why does that match your—”

“Close it,” he said.

His voice was low enough that it vibrated under the normal quiet, like there was a second sound hiding in it.

I stared. “What?”

“Close it,” he repeated. “Now.”

I should’ve argued.

I should’ve demanded answers.

But something in his tone made my pride shut up.

I crouched, picked up the fallen book carefully—like it might bite—and snapped it shut.

The air around us loosened slightly, like a held breath released.

Alex exhaled once through his nose.

Then his eyes flicked to my face, fast and sharp.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I blinked. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he said.

I hated that he was always right about my body before I was.

“I’m just—” I swallowed. “I’m confused.”

Alex’s jaw flexed.

He leaned forward and took the book from my hands like he didn’t want me holding it.

Then he slid it back onto the shelf without looking at the title.

Like he knew exactly where it belonged.

Like he’d done it before.

My stomach twisted.

“How do you know that book?” I whispered.

Alex didn’t answer.

He just looked at me like he was choosing his words the way someone chose a weapon.

“This isn’t a game,” he said quietly.

I tried to laugh, but my laugh came out thin. “It’s literally a library.”

His eyes darkened. “Not everything in here is for students.”

My skin prickled.

I glanced around the floor.

People were studying. Typing. Whispering. Turning pages.

Normal.

But suddenly I couldn’t shake the feeling that the shelves were taller than they should be. That the shadows between the aisles were deeper.

That the quiet wasn’t peaceful.

It was watchful.

I swallowed hard. “What is that symbol?”

Alex’s gaze dropped to my wrist for half a second—like he was checking me again.

Then back to my eyes.

“I told you,” he said. “Not out here.”

My chest tightened. “Not out here? Alex, we’re in a library.”

His mouth twitched—almost a smile, but not. “Exactly.”

I stared at him. “Are you saying the library isn’t safe?”

Alex didn’t answer directly.

He did that annoying thing where he spoke in half-truths.

“I’m saying,” he murmured, “we should be where there are witnesses.”

I blinked. “There are witnesses.”

He shook his head slightly, like I still didn’t get it.

“Not the kind that help,” he said.

My stomach turned cold.

I looked at the shelves again, and for the first time, I imagined someone watching from between them.

Not a student.

Something else.

My throat went dry.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Cool. Great. Love that for me.”

Alex’s gaze sharpened with something like relief when I didn’t argue.

“Pack up,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t get to—”

“Please,” he cut in, soft but firm.

The word was rare from him.

It landed heavy.

I swallowed my pride and shoved my notebook into my bag like I wasn’t shaking.

We left the library together.

The moment we stepped outside, sunlight hit my face like a reset button.

Campus looked normal again.

Students walked around laughing. People lounged on the grass. Someone played music from a speaker, obnoxiously cheerful.

And yet my nerves stayed tight.

Because I could still feel the book’s page in my mind.

That crescent-claw symbol.

And Alex’s wrist.

And the way he’d said not everything was for students.

I walked fast, trying to outrun the feeling.

Alex matched my pace easily, as if speed was nothing to him.

“You’re doing it again,” he said.

I didn’t look at him. “Doing what?”

“Trying to act like you’re not scared,” he said.

“I’m not scared.”

He hummed like he didn’t believe me.

I stopped walking and finally faced him.

“Then explain,” I snapped. “Explain the mark. Explain the book. Explain the forest. Explain why you know my nickname. Explain why you—”

Alex’s eyes flicked around us like he was checking for listeners.

Then his gaze returned to me, calm and heavy.

“Later,” he said.

My hands clenched. “You keep saying later like I’m supposed to wait.”

Alex stepped closer—just enough for me to smell storm on him.

His voice dropped. “If I tell you everything at once, you’ll panic.”

“I’m already panicking!”

“You’re resisting it,” he said, calm. “That’s why you’re still standing.”

I stared at him, furious.

And unfortunately… a tiny part of me hated that he understood me so well.

Before I could throw another argument at him, my phone buzzed.

Lina: URGENTLina: WE ARE DOING A CASUAL BASKETBALL GAME AT THE REC COURTLina: LIKE FUN. NOT SERIOUS. WE NEED ONE MORE PERSONLina: COME OR I’LL TELL EVERYONE U’RE IN LOVE WITH WOLF-BOY

I stared at the message like it was a threat.

Alex’s eyes flicked to my screen.

I hid it. “Mind your business.”

His mouth curved faintly. “Too late.”

I groaned. “Lina’s dragging me into basketball.”

Alex tilted his head. “You play?”

“No.”

“Then why are you going?”

I glanced down at my phone again.

Because I needed something normal.

Because I needed to be around people and noise and daylight and stupid sports so my brain could stop replaying symbols and growls.

Because I needed to prove I was still a college girl, not a target in some secret war.

“I’m going because I want to,” I said stubbornly.

Alex’s gaze sharpened. “I’m coming.”

I blinked. “No.”

He said it at the same time, calm: “Yes.”

I pointed at him. “Stop doing that.”

“I can’t,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “You just like controlling things.”

His mouth twitched. “Yes.”

The honesty was infuriating.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Come. But don’t be weird.”

Alex’s eyes flicked over my face like he was trying to decide if I was serious.

“I’m always weird,” he said.

“Then be less weird.”

He nodded once like he’d agreed to an impossible task.

“Okay,” he said, and I already didn’t trust it.

The rec court was outside, behind the main building, framed by tall fences and bright lights even in daylight. The air smelled like rubber, sunscreen, and energy drinks. A few students were already there, shooting hoops and laughing.

Lina waved wildly the second she saw me.

“YES!” she yelled. “SHE CAME!”

Bree stood beside her, bouncing on her toes like this was the best event of the week. She wore a sporty jacket and had her hair in a ponytail that looked too perfect to be real.

“This is going to be fun,” Bree announced like she was narrating a commercial.

I stopped at the edge of the court and looked at the basketball like it was a dangerous animal.

“I’m terrible,” I warned.

“That’s the point,” Lina said. “We’re all terrible. It’s casual. It’s chaos.”

There were a few other people I recognized from orientation and the dorm hallway—freshmen with too much confidence and not enough coordination.

One guy—tall, athletic, loud—tossed the ball into the air and caught it one-handed like he wanted everyone to notice.

He noticed me noticing.

His grin widened.

“Oh,” he called, walking closer. “New girl came out to play?”

I felt my shoulders tighten automatically.

Lina stepped in with a fake sweet smile. “She’s here for fun. Not for your ego.”

The guy laughed like Lina was cute.

Then his gaze slid to Alex.

Alex was standing a few feet behind me, hands in his hoodie pocket, watching the court like he was calculating angles and exits.

The loud guy’s grin faltered slightly.

Not fully.

Just… enough.

“Who’s that?” he asked Lina, but his eyes didn’t stay on Alex long, like it hurt to hold contact.

Lina’s expression turned bright and innocent. “That’s Alex. Our… storm problem.”

I hissed, “Lina.”

Alex’s mouth twitched like he was amused.

The loud guy bounced the ball once, trying to regain control of the vibe.

“Alright,” he said. “Teams.”

People started grouping up randomly.

Lina grabbed my arm immediately. “You’re with us.”

Bree nodded. “Yes. You’re safe with us.”

I stared. “Why are you saying safe like—”

“Because life is dangerous,” Lina said dramatically.

Then she glanced at Alex. “Also because he’s here.”

I turned.

Alex was still standing at the edge of the court.

Not joining.

Just… watching.

Like a guard again.

Annoying.

Comforting.

I hated both feelings.

A girl from the group called, “Alex, you playing?”

Alex didn’t answer right away.

He looked at me.

Like the decision was mine.

I frowned. “Why are you looking at me?”

His voice was low. “Do you want me to play?”

I opened my mouth, ready to say no out of pure stubbornness—

But the loud guy had already started drifting closer to me again, grinning like a shark.

And my body did not like it.

So my mouth betrayed my pride.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Play.”

Alex’s eyes darkened slightly.

Then he stepped onto the court.

And the vibe shifted instantly.

I don’t know how else to describe it.

He didn’t even do anything yet—he just walked onto the court, calm and silent, and suddenly people straightened a little. Laughed a little less loudly. Moved a little more carefully.

Like their bodies recognized something dominant and adjusted without permission.

Lina whispered to Bree, “He’s like a villain entering a sports movie.”

Bree whispered back, “But hot.”

I muttered, “Please stop.”

The ball got tossed to start the game.

And within thirty seconds, I realized something:

Alex was not just playing.

Alex was dominating.

He moved like he’d been doing this forever. Like his body understood speed and balance in a way that didn’t match normal human athleticism. He didn’t even look like he was trying. He ran without heavy footsteps. Jumped without strain. Turned without losing momentum.

Meanwhile, I tripped over my own sneakers twice.

Lina was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Okay!” Lina yelled, clapping. “This is supposed to be casual, Alex!”

Alex took the ball from the loud guy with one smooth move—no shove, no aggression, just a clean steal like the ball had chosen him.

Then he made a shot without even looking like he cared.

Swish.

I stared. “Are you serious?”

Alex glanced at me. “What?”

“You’re acting like this is the championship.”

“It’s a game,” he said.

“You’re winning too hard.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Is that a thing?”

“Yes,” I snapped. “It’s called being annoying.”

Alex’s mouth curved faintly. “You like annoying.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” he said, and then he stole the ball again like he was proving it.

The loud guy’s face tightened.

He stopped laughing.

His moves got rougher—too close, too fast, like he wanted to prove he wasn’t intimidated.

He started playing with an edge.

I tried to stay out of it.

I really did.

I stayed near Lina and Bree, doing my best not to get murdered by basketball physics.

But the ball kept finding me anyway—because the universe enjoyed humiliation.

“Here!” Bree called, tossing the ball toward me.

It flew faster than I expected.

I caught it awkwardly, nearly dropped it, then panicked and tried to pass it back.

My pass went crooked.

It bounced off someone’s hand.

The loud guy lunged for it, grabbed it, and turned with a grin.

“Nice try,” he said, and then—like he was trying to show off—he spun and threw a hard pass across the court.

Too hard.

Too fast.

It wasn’t aimed at anyone.

It was just… power.

The ball flew.

And I had exactly one second to realize it was coming straight at my face.

“—Wait!”

I lifted my hands too late.

The ball slammed into my nose and cheek with a loud thunk that turned the whole court silent.

Pain exploded in my face.

My eyes watered instantly.

I stumbled backward, hands flying to my nose.

Everything tilted.

I heard Lina scream my name.

I heard Bree gasp.

I heard someone laugh—one short, shocked sound—then choke like they realized it wasn’t funny.

And then—

Alex snapped.

It happened so fast it didn’t feel real.

One second he was across the court.

The next, he was in front of me.

His arm wrapped around my shoulders, steadying me before I fell.

His other hand cupped the back of my head gently, checking my face with frightening focus.

“Look at me,” he said.

His voice wasn’t the same.

It was lower.

Rougher.

There was something under it—something not human, not quite a growl, but close enough that my stomach dropped.

I blinked through tears, trying to breathe.

“I’m fine,” I choked, because I refused to be weak, even while my nose felt like it had been hit by a truck.

Alex’s gaze flicked to my nose, to my cheek.

Then his eyes lifted.

To the loud guy.

And the air changed.

It wasn’t just tension now.

It was pressure.

Like the sky right before lightning.

The loud guy lifted his hands quickly, backing up. “Dude—she moved. I didn’t—”

Alex stood up slowly.

Too slowly.

Still holding me with one arm like I was something he refused to release.

His eyes were dark—then something flashed in them, subtle but wrong.

His jaw clenched.

His shoulders rose slightly like his body was ready for violence.

And when he spoke, everyone heard it.

Because his voice wasn’t just angry.

It was something else.

A sound that made the court go dead silent, even the nearby students turning to look.

“Say that again,” Alex said.

The words were calm.

But the tone underneath them wasn’t.

It was primal.

Predator-deep.

The loud guy swallowed hard.

“I—I didn’t mean—”

Alex took one step forward.

Just one.

And the loud guy backed up like his body remembered fear.

The fence behind him rattled slightly as he stumbled.

Lina stood frozen, eyes wide.

Bree’s hand flew to her mouth.

Everyone else on the court stopped moving, like they’d just realized they were sharing space with something dangerous.

Alex’s arm tightened around me protectively.

He didn’t take his eyes off the loud guy.

And when he spoke again, his voice dropped even lower—

So low it sounded like two voices at once.

One human.

One not.

“Don’t,” Alex said softly, and the word carried a growl inside it.

Every single person on that court heard it.

And nobody laughed anymore.