The Alpha's Unexpected Mate

2

The woods were fine—more than fine. They smelled of damp pine and rotting leaves, of earth split open and alive. The way the sunlight slipped through the branches and spilled onto the mossy ground, it was like something divine had cracked a window and let the heavens in. Rosa was lying. Or maybe Brandon had paid her off to weave her stories, to lace them with just enough menace to tangle me up, to keep me out. But it wouldn’t work. The people of Fairview might fear what stretched beyond the footpaths, the shadows behind the ferns, the whispered warnings of “don’t go too far,” but I wasn’t like them. I never had been. Something in me ached for danger, for the thrill of stepping past the line everyone else stayed behind.

The clearing was my sanctuary. Nothing special about it, not really—no ancient oak tree with roots that told secrets, no glimmering hidden lake. Just a small open space with a flat, weather-smoothed stone in the center, like someone had placed it there on purpose, though I knew no one had. That stone had held me for hours: reading, napping, listening to the birds squabble overhead, sometimes staring at the sky until my eyes blurred and the clouds stopped looking like clouds.

This was where I ate lunch now. Every day. The school gave us options: pack it, buy it, or leave campus for an hour to eat wherever we wanted. I was always the first in the cafeteria line, grabbing my sandwich and bolting before anyone could catch me. Before, I’d sit with Eva and Adam in the farthest corner of the cafeteria, where the noise was a dull roar instead of a scream. We’d argue over whether Dumbledore was evil or if Star Wars peaked with Empire or Jedi. That was before everything shifted. Now, I ate alone in the woods, letting the silence fill the spaces where laughter used to live.

Today, the feeling started as soon as I sat down: eyes on me, hot and sharp. I kept twisting around, scanning the trees, the undergrowth, but nothing moved. Just green and shadows. I told myself I was imagining it, plugged my headphones in, and tried to drown out the prickle on my skin. It didn’t work. By the time I gave up and left, lunch was nearly over. My stomach growled, empty and hollow, but it didn’t matter. Supper at the orphanage would have to do, assuming I didn’t get in trouble again. One meal a day wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep people from whispering about how thin I was.

P.E. after lunch was a cruel joke, especially for someone like me. I wasn’t built for sprints or soccer fields or rope climbing. I was the first to crumple on the track, the first to sprain an ankle. And if the field didn’t take me down, Heather and Brandon would. Their pranks always left me in Rosa’s care, wincing as she stitched me up, muttering about how careless I was.

Heather’s masterpiece was stealing my clothes while I showered after class. I’d had to walk to the administrative office in nothing but a towel, my skin burning redder than my hair. After that, I stopped showering at school. Not that I would’ve done it again anyway, not with the scar running down my body like a jagged fault line, impossible to hide. From my left shoulder to my belly button, a mark that screamed: something happened here. Heather had snapped a picture once, and within hours, it was plastered across school gossip boards like some cruel art exhibit. The principal made her take it down, but it didn’t matter. Scars, once exposed, had a way of staying visible no matter how hard you tried to cover them.

The scar was a reminder. Of what happened to my parents. Of the night everything unraveled, of screams and flames and steel slicing through me. It was a miracle I survived. At least, that’s what people said. It didn’t feel like a miracle. It felt like someone had tried to carve me in half and got bored halfway through.

“Were you with Adam?”

The voice came from nowhere, sharp and sudden, as a hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me around. Eva. Her dark eyes were wide, frantic, as if I’d just stolen something from her.

Eva, who I’d once envied. Her olive-brown skin, her cascade of jet-black curls, her features so delicate they seemed sketched by an artist who’d spent hours perfecting each line. Eva, who was the sun, radiant and blinding, drawing everyone into her orbit. Eva, my best friend. Or she had been.

“No,” I said, yanking my arm free. “I haven’t seen Adam.”

“Cut the crap, Aria.” She stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You’re always around him. Always trying to get his attention, always finding some excuse to be near him. God, why can’t you just let me be happy?”

Her words hit like a slap. My chest tightened, heat rising to my face. Why couldn’t I let her be happy? Why couldn’t I be happy? That was the question burning in me, the one I wanted to scream into the trees. Why does everything happen to me? Why do I lose everyone I care about? Why do you think I’d want Adam, of all people? I’d told her a thousand times: I didn’t like him. He made my skin crawl. But Eva never listened, and I was done repeating myself.

“I don’t have time for this,” I said, brushing past her.

“Aria!” Her voice cracked, pleading now, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The clearing was calling me, the woods wrapping their arms around me as I ran, their silence a balm against the storm raging in my chest.

When I reached the stone, I collapsed onto it, my breath ragged, tears stinging my eyes. The scar beneath my shirt felt like it was burning, a reminder of everything I’d lost. My parents. My home. My best friend. The woods were the only thing left, the only place where I could feel like myself, even if that self was broken.

And then I heard it. A snap. Not the soft rustle of leaves or the chirp of birds but something deliberate. Heavy. Human. My pulse quickened as I sat up, scanning the trees. There it was again—closer this time. A shadow shifted at the edge of the clearing, too quick to make out.

“Hello?” My voice was steady, but my hands trembled as I gripped the edge of the stone. No answer. Just the whisper of the wind and the pounding of my heart. I wanted to run, to bolt back to school and leave the woods behind. But I couldn’t. Something kept me rooted there, waiting. Craving. For what, I didn’t know. Danger? Maybe. Answers? Definitely. But something deeper, something I couldn’t name, something that pulsed in the air like a warning and a promise all at once.

And then it stepped into the light.

When I walked into the school parking lot, I saw them immediately—Adam and Victoria. She was laughing, her head tilted back, hair spilling like liquid gold. Adam leaned casually against his car, his smile crooked, easy, like he hadn’t been caught with half the cheer squad. He was magnetic in the worst way, a constellation of bad decisions, and yet Eva orbited him like gravity was a choice.

By the time Eva entered my world, she was already shedding her old skin. Gone was the girl who cut tires with me behind the gym, giggling at the hiss of deflating rubber. She was climbing the high school social ladder, hand over hand, and Adam was her golden rung. He was captain of the basketball team, and Brandon—Heather’s boyfriend—was captain of the football team. Two kings of the court, their girlfriends in a silent war for the crown.

I didn’t care about their hierarchy, but Eva did. She always did.

"Aria," she spat, her voice slicing through the air like a thrown blade. "I don’t want your excuses. I don’t want your lies. I want you to stay the hell away from Adam."

We were standing by the lockers, the harsh fluorescent lights humming above us, casting shadows that flickered like ghosts of every other argument we’d had. A crowd was gathering, their whispers a tide rising against me.

"I don’t want Adam," I said, my voice low but steady. "I’ve told you that a thousand times. He’s not who you think he is, Eva."

Eva’s laugh was sharp, brittle, like glass cracking under pressure. "Don’t play innocent. You were texting him. He told me. He said you’ve been after him for months."

I stared at her, willing her to see the truth, but she was already lost in the lie. "He’s lying. Just like he lied about Brenda. And Suzanne. And Carolina. And every other girl he’s cheated with. Don’t you see? He’s using you."

Her eyes narrowed into slits, dark and furious. "You’re the liar," she hissed. "You’ve always been jealous. You can’t stand that he chose me. Well, guess what? He’s mine, Aria. Stay away, or you’ll regret it."

She shoved me as she passed, her shoulder catching me hard enough to send me stumbling into the lockers. Pain shot through my hand where it scraped the metal, but I bit down on it, refusing to give her the satisfaction.

The crowd dissolved, their murmurs like static fading into the background. But the sting of their judgment lingered. They always sided with Eva. She was beautiful, magnetic, and ruthless. I was the shadow in her spotlight, the inconvenient truth she was determined to erase.

When I was little, I used to pray for a cat. I stopped praying for my parents to come back once I understood what death really meant—its permanence, its silence. But a cat? A cat was possible. It was something alive, something that could love me back.

The sisters at the orphanage had a strict no-pet policy, but I didn’t care. I found a scrappy little kitten one day, its fur a patchwork of gray and white, and smuggled it into my room. I named him Charlie. I shared my food with him, even the meager desserts, and hid him under my bed whenever Sister Erica came stomping by.

But secrets never lasted long in that place. When they found Charlie, they took him away. I begged, sobbed, clung to Sister Erica’s skirts, but she was unmoved. "No pets," she said, as if that was the end of it.

Losing Charlie felt like losing everything. I curled up on my bed that night and decided I wouldn’t trust anyone again. Not the sisters, not the other kids, not anyone who promised things they couldn’t keep. It was the same hollow ache I felt now, watching Adam and Eva disappear around the corner, arm in arm.

By the time the final bell rang, I was a ghost of myself. Julian had been hounding me all day, furious that I’d beaten him on Mr. Wallace’s physics pop quiz. "Nerd," he muttered under his breath every time I passed. "Harvard reject," I shot back once, but the satisfaction was fleeting. Julian didn’t hate me for being smart; he hated me for threatening his perfect image. He was valedictorian, a shoo-in for Ivy League, but somehow my existence was an affront to him.

The rain started just as I stepped outside, fat drops splattering the pavement. I thought about taking the forest path home, but it would be muddy, and my shoes were already on their last leg. Instead, I trudged down the main road, my jacket pulled tight against the cold.

When I reached the orphanage, Sister Erica was waiting, her arms crossed and her mouth already twisted into a scowl. "You’re late," she snapped. "Matilda’s been waiting for you. Do you think her homework will do itself?"

"I’m sorry," I started, but she cut me off with a wave of her hand.

"Sorry doesn’t cut it. Get upstairs and help her. And if she fails again, it’s on you."

I swallowed my retort and climbed the stairs two at a time. Matilda’s door was half-open, and I could hear the click of her phone keyboard, the relentless tapping of someone who had no intention of studying.

"Hey," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "Sister Erica wants me to help you with your homework."

Matilda didn’t even look up. "Books are on the desk," she said. "Make sure I get a B. Nothing too smart, though. I don’t want the teachers thinking I suddenly care."

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. We’d done this dance before. She didn’t want to learn, and I didn’t have the energy to fight her on it. I sat at her desk, pulling out her crumpled worksheets, and started filling in the blanks. The rain drummed against the window, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in my head.

"You’re a freak, you know that?" Matilda said from her bed, her voice flat. "Always doing what you’re told. Always trying to be perfect."

I didn’t look up. "And you’re a coward," I said softly. "Too scared to try, so you make everyone else do the work for you."

Her phone stilled for a moment, but she didn’t reply. I let the silence stretch between us, thick and heavy, until the only sound was the scratching of my pen on paper.

It was going to be a long night.