Eleanor
“You there.” Ezra pointed straight at me, without even looking at the tab. “Eleanor Grayehr?”
I inhaled, feeling my hands ball into a tight fist. “Yes, Alpha.” Back home, I never referred to him with his title. We hated each other so much that we barely even remembered out titles when there were other colourful names we could hurl at each other.
Oh he was so dead.
He curved his finger inward, gesturing for me to come forward.
We were a group of twenty, so it’s not like I could blend into the crowd or anything.
“You are playing number six.” he instructed, without looking at me.
Up close, I could see the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his perfectly carved chin, and wished they were longer so I could rip them out.
Asshole.
“I am not good at volleyball.” I lied, wishin
