MY PSYCHO ALPHA

CHAPTER 15

“Then prove you’re still Alpha.”

The laughter that followed wasn’t loud, but it spread through the clearing like poison in water—easy, confident, cruel.

I stood behind Alex with my back still pressed to the tree, branches scratching my sleeves like the forest wanted to keep me pinned in place. My lungs burned from running. My fingers were numb from cold. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it was knocking on my ribs from the inside.

Alex didn’t move.

Not at first.

He just stood between me and them, shoulders squared, feet planted like the ground belonged to him. His sleeves were pushed up, his wrist mark exposed. The crescent-claw symbol looked darker out here, like moonlight fed it.

The group of “students” circled us—too quiet, too aware, too organized. Their eyes tracked Alex the way predators tracked predators. Some of them held smirks like they were watching a show. Some looked tense, like they didn’t want this to escalate but couldn’t stop it.

The varsity guy stepped forward again, smile sharp as glass.

“You walked out,” he said. “You went soft.”

Alex’s jaw flexed.

His eyes flickered—dark storm, then a faint gold heat underneath, like embers trying to wake.

“I didn’t go soft,” Alex said.

His voice was calm.

But calm on him didn’t mean safe.

It meant contained.

“You’re wearing a jacket like it’s armor,” the varsity guy said, head tilted. “You’re talking like a human. You’re hiding in dorm halls, carrying grocery bags like that makes you normal.”

A few of the others chuckled.

One girl—ponytail, the same one from the clearing—glanced at me with a cold, assessing look, like I was a mistake Alex insisted on protecting.

“You think she makes you better?” the ponytail girl asked softly.

Alex didn’t look back at me.

But his shoulders rose slightly, like the words hit something inside him.

“She makes you sloppy,” someone else said. “You’re distracted.”

My stomach twisted.

The forest around us creaked like it was listening.

A wind moved through the branches even though the air at ground level stayed still. Leaves rustled in a way that didn’t sound like wind.

It sounded like whispering.

The varsity guy spread his hands, casual, like he was offering a choice.

“Prove you’re still Alpha,” he said again. “Or step aside.”

Alex let out a slow breath through his nose.

And I felt it.

Not a sound. Not a movement.

A shift.

Like the air around his body tightened and thickened. Like the space between atoms got smaller.

My skin prickled so hard I almost flinched.

Alex’s voice dropped, very low.

“You don’t want that.”

The varsity guy’s grin widened. “Try me.”

Alex’s head tilted slightly, like he was listening to something deeper than their words.

Then he said something that made my blood turn cold.

“You’re forgetting,” he murmured, “I’m the reason you learned to lower your eyes.”

Silence snapped into place.

The ponytail girl’s smile faltered.

A few of the others stiffened, their bodies reacting before their faces could.

The varsity guy’s expression tightened—just a fraction—like a nerve had been touched.

“You don’t get to threaten us,” he said.

Alex finally turned his head slightly, enough that I saw his profile.

His eyes weren’t fully gold.

But the dark was thinning.

Like moonlight was peeling the human layer back.

“I’m not threatening,” Alex said. “I’m warning.”

The varsity guy’s hands curled into fists.

“Do it,” he said.

And the clearing held its breath.

Alex didn’t lunge.

He didn’t throw a punch.

He didn’t attack.

Instead—he took one step forward.

Just one.

And the world reacted.

The trees around us shuddered—subtle, like a living thing flinching.

The air dropped colder.

A pressure rolled outward from Alex’s body like a shockwave that didn’t knock you down but made your instincts scream.

My stomach flipped.

My knees went weak.

Not from fear alone—though fear was there—but from something older than fear.

Something that lived in the animal part of me.

Submit.

I hated that word.

I hated that my body understood it.

Across the clearing, the “students” reacted like dominoes.

One boy’s smile vanished instantly.

A girl’s shoulders dropped like she was suddenly exhausted.

Two of them took half-steps back without meaning to.

The ponytail girl’s nostrils flared.

The varsity guy stayed where he was, but the muscles in his jaw jumped like he was grinding his teeth.

Alex’s voice came again, lower than before.

It wasn’t loud.

But it carried.

Not through air.

Through bone.

“Kneel,” he said told them.

A few of them jerked as if the word yanked a string inside their spine.

One guy to the left actually bent—halfway—before catching himself and shaking like he’d been forced into it.

The ponytail girl’s eyes widened, furious.

“Stop,” she snapped.

Alex didn’t even look at her.

His gaze stayed on the varsity guy.

“Still want proof?” Alex asked.

The varsity guy’s grin was gone now.

His eyes had changed, too—just a hint, a faint unnatural sheen.

He swallowed.

Then forced a laugh like he wasn’t affected.

“Cute trick,” he said. “But you’re holding back.”

Alex’s jaw tightened.

The air around him tightened with it.

My chest hurt.

Not because he was hurting me—

Because he was holding himself back so hard it looked like it might split him in half.

“You’re playing,” the varsity guy said, voice a little less steady. “In front of her.”

Alex’s head turned a fraction.

For the first time since he stepped into the clearing, he glanced back at me.

Just one heartbeat.

His eyes met mine.

And in that second, I saw it.

Not madness.

Not psycho.

Not some villain with a dramatic temper.

I saw a boy at war with himself.

A boy who could end this in one breath… and refused to.

Because I was watching.

My throat tightened.

Alex turned back to them.

His voice came out rougher.

“You don’t get to use her,” he said.

The varsity guy’s lips curled. “Then stop caring.”

That was the wrong sentence.

I felt it in my bones, the instant it landed wrong.

Alex’s shoulders rose.

His hands clenched at his sides.

And then—

Something inside him snapped loose.

Not fully.

Not like he turned into a monster.

More like the monster inside him pushed forward just enough to be seen.

A sound ripped out of his throat.

Not a scream.

Not a shout.

A roar—deep, vibrating, layered with something animal, something that didn’t belong in a human chest.

The clearing shook.

Birds exploded from the trees, black shapes scattering into the night sky.

The “students” stumbled back like the sound hit them physically.

Two of them dropped to one knee before they could stop themselves.

The ponytail girl’s face went pale.

The varsity guy’s jaw clenched, but even he took a half-step back, eyes wide for the first time.

Alex’s eyes flashed fully gold for one terrifying second.

Not pretty gold.

Not romantic gold.

Predator gold.

His teeth looked sharper when he breathed.

His nails—God, I couldn’t tell if I imagined it—looked longer, darker, like claws pressing against skin.

And the air around him?

It felt like standing too close to a lightning strike.

My body went cold all over.

My breath caught.

For one heartbeat, I couldn’t move.

For one heartbeat, I understood why people whispered the word Alpha like it was religion and fear combined.

Then Alex’s head snapped slightly—like he heard something that wasn’t sound.

Like he felt something that wasn’t touch.

He turned—halfway—toward me again.

His eyes locked onto mine.

And I watched him force it down.

I watched him pull the gold back under the dark.

I watched his fingers curl into fists so hard his knuckles went white.

His breathing went controlled again.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Like he was wrestling a storm into a bottle.

The varsity guy stared at Alex like he’d just seen the real creature under the skin.

“You’re slipping,” he said, voice suddenly quieter.

Alex’s laugh was short and humorless. “No.”

“You roared,” the ponytail girl whispered, shaken. “In front of her.”

Alex’s gaze stayed hard. “So?”

The ponytail girl’s eyes flicked to me with a look that was part fear, part warning, part something like pity.

“Now she knows,” the ponytail girl said.

Alex’s voice dropped. “Good.”

The varsity guy’s expression twisted. “You’re making her a target.”

Alex took one slow step forward again.

The varsity guy froze.

Alex’s tone was deadly calm.

“Listen carefully,” Alex said. “You came here to test me.”

His eyes burned dark-gold beneath the surface, like the predator was still awake—just leashed.

“Test complete,” Alex continued. “I’m still Alpha.”

Silence.

No laughter now.

No smug faces.

Just a circle of tense bodies, caught between obeying and challenging.

Alex lifted his chin slightly.

“And here’s the part you forgot,” he said.

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t need to.

“Alpha doesn’t mean strongest,” he said. “It means responsible.”

The varsity guy scoffed weakly. “Since when?”

“Since always,” Alex said. “You just like the version where you get to hurt people.”

The ponytail girl’s mouth opened—like she wanted to argue.

Alex’s gaze snapped to her.

And the air tightened again.

“Back,” he said.

One word.

It hit them like a shove.

They moved.

Not all at once.

Not dramatically.

But they moved.

Half-steps. Retreating. Breaking the circle.

The clearing breathed.

The forest creaked like it approved.

I finally got enough air into my lungs to speak.

“Alex,” I whispered, voice shaking.

He didn’t look at me right away.

He kept his attention on them until they were a few steps farther back, until the immediate threat was no longer close enough to touch.

Then he turned fully to me.

And suddenly, the storm was gone.

Not fully—because it lived in him.

But the outward violence vanished, leaving just a boy with tense shoulders and eyes that looked exhausted.

He reached for me slowly—carefully—like he was afraid his own hands were weapons.

He didn’t touch me.

He stopped a few inches away, hands hovering in the cold air.

His voice came out rough, quiet.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

I shook my head, swallowing hard. “No.”

His gaze searched my face like he was reading for lies.

“You crossed the boundary,” he said, voice tight with something like anger and fear mixed together. “Why?”

My throat burned.

“Because you wouldn’t tell me,” I whispered. “Because everyone keeps treating me like I don’t deserve the truth.”

Alex flinched slightly, like that hit him.

Then his jaw clenched.

“I tried,” he said.

“I know,” I whispered. “But you also… keep deciding for me.”

Alex’s eyes darkened, then softened—an impossible combination.

“I decide,” he said quietly, “because if I don’t, you die.”

My stomach twisted.

The ponytail girl laughed from a distance—thin, mocking.

“She’ll die anyway,” she said. “If she stays near you.”

Alex didn’t look away from me.

But his voice carried when he spoke, low and lethal:

“Leave.”

The group hesitated.

Then, one by one, they backed into the trees.

Not running.

Retreating.

Like they’d seen enough.

The varsity guy lingered the longest, eyes locked on Alex.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

Alex’s expression didn’t change. “It never is.”

The varsity guy glanced at me one last time, then disappeared into the dark like he’d never existed.

And suddenly it was just us.

Me.

Alex.

The forest.

The cold.

The moon watching like an eye.

My knees felt weak.

I leaned back against the tree again, not because I wanted distance but because my body needed support.

Alex stood in front of me, breathing controlled, hands still half-curled like he didn’t trust himself to relax.

He looked… shaken.

Not from fear.

From restraint.

From forcing the wolf back down while adrenaline screamed for release.

“You did that,” I whispered. “You… made them—”

Alex didn’t answer.

His gaze flicked over my face again, checking, checking, checking.

Then he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

“You saw it,” he said.

I swallowed, voice barely working. “Yes.”

His jaw flexed. “And you didn’t run.”

I laughed once—small, shaky, not funny. “I did run.”

“Not from me,” he said.

My chest tightened.

The trees creaked softly, like they were listening again.

Alex took one slow step closer.

His voice lowered to something raw.

“This is the part,” he said, “where you get to tell the truth.”

I stared up at him, heart hammering, still feeling the echo of his roar in my bones.

His eyes—dark now, fully human-looking again—held mine with brutal seriousness.

Then he leaned in just enough that I could hear him breathe.

And he whispered, quiet as a vow:

“If you’re afraid of me, say it now.”