The Alpha I Hated

Chapter 2 - The Shirtless Menace

I woke up to the sound of rain.

It started as a soft drizzle, tapping lazily against the windowpane, but as consciousness dragged me back into reality, it shifted. Harder. Heavier. Like tiny fists hammering against the glass, demanding to be let in.

I exhaled slowly, exhaustion clinging to me like a second skin. I’d streamed until after 4 AM, but at least it kept my mind off that stupid nightmare.

Five f*****g years, and yet I still woke up feeling like I’d just lived it.

Stupid brain. Why couldn’t I obsess over USEFUL things? Like… I don’t know... remembering to eat or remembering to charge my wireless mouse? But no, instead, my brain thought it would be fun to make me relive one of the worst moments of my life on repeat. Like some sick, late-night TV rerun.

With a sigh, I sat up, my muscles aching like I’d actually been physically beaten in my sleep.

Probably because I had—by my own stupid emotions.

I checked my phone. 9:42 AM.

I was dragging today. My limbs felt like they were made of lead, my head was stuffed with fog, and my attention span was shot to s**t.

Caffeine was an immediate requirement.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the cold wooden floor. I trudged over to my desk, eyeing out the single Red Bull can that sat there like a beacon of hope.

I picked it up, shaking it slightly, praying for even the tiniest sip of liquid to be left inside. But there was nothing.

I scowled at the can. f*****g traitor.

With a resigned sigh, I grabbed my hoodie from the back of my chair and shoved my arms into the sleeves, already dreading the trip downstairs.

This house still didn’t feel like home.

Probably because it wasn’t. I’d lived here for five years, but it still felt temporary. Like an Airbnb I’d overstayed my welcome at. I existed in this space, but I wasn’t part of it.

And Forks? Forks was even worse.

It was a tourist trap with too many Twilight nerds looking to live out their vampire-obsessed fantasies.

I hated it. Not because I had anything against broody immortal guys or the girls who fell for them—I mean, whatever, do your thing—but because the reality was so much worse.

No vampires. Just a bunch of werewolves blending seamlessly into human society like it was some long-term social experiment or something.

Back in Winthrop, my old pack was small and traditional. We lived apart from humans, in our own bubble of werewolf culture. But here? Here they integrated. Infiltrated. Took up positions of power in the community. Owned businesses. Ran the town like they were some kind of secret society pulling the strings behind the scenes.

It was weird.

I sighed and made my way downstairs, already regretting it, but the need for caffeine spurred me on.

The smell of food hit me before I even reached the kitchen, and dread curled low in my stomach.

Please be Aunt Wendy. Please be Aunt Wendy.

I rounded the corner and—Nope. f*****g Caleb.

Technically, he was my cousin. Legally, my adoptive brother. But I refused to call him that. From the moment I stepped into this house at twelve years old—grieving, alone and completely shattered—he’d made it his personal mission to make my life hell.

I wasn’t just some sad orphan to him. I was an intruder. An outsider. Someone who 'stole' attention that used to be his.

And he made sure I knew it.

Every. Single. Day.

Now, five years later, not much had changed. There he was—standing at the stove shirtless, with a spatula in hand as he flipped an egg with far too much enthusiasm for someone making breakfast.

I ignored him and went straight for the fridge.

"Morning, Sunshine," Caleb drawled, like the condescending asshole that he was. "Late night?"

I didn’t answer. Instead, I grabbed an energy drink, cracked it open, and took a long sip before muttering, "Morning, Asshole."

Caleb snorted. "Charming as always."

He leaned against the counter, smirking as his eyes flicked over me. Oversized hoodie. Messy hair. Dark circles under my eyes. I probably looked like I’d crawled out of a grave.

"Rough night?" he asked.

"I streamed," I said flatly.

Caleb made a tsk sound, shaking his head dramatically. "You really need to get out more."

I arched a brow. "What, and hang out with you? Hard pass."

His smirk didn’t falter. "Hey, I’m just saying. All you do is sit in your room and yell at a screen all day. Your life is kinda sad."

I took another sip. "Very sad," I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes with indifference.

"You know, my mom and dad are worried about you," he continued, leaning against the counter. "Worried that you're gonna end up living here forever. You're almost eighteen, Ash. Maybe it's time to start thinking about, you know, college… a real job… something that doesn’t involve screaming at twelve-year-olds over the internet. This little hobby of yours isn't going to pay the bills."

Caleb was twenty and he was still living at home with his parents, but somehow it was me who was the problem? Make it make f*****g sense...

Also, I was fairly sure his mom and dad hadn't said anything about it. This was all him. Another attempt to make me feel guilty for existing.

"It's not just a hobby," I muttered through gritted teeth.

He scoffed. "Whatever... You need to grow up. Playing f*****g video games all day isn't going to get you anywhere in life."

I gave him a slow, deadpan blink. "Yeah, maybe I should be more like you, Caleb. Still living at home with your mom and dad, no job, no prospects."

His smirk twitched. "I’m studying," he replied, the defensiveness in his tone apparent.

"Yeah, sure… those ‘online courses’..."

Caleb rolled his eyes, turning around to take his eggs out of the frying pan. "Whatever. Just don’t cry to me when you get carpal tunnel at twenty."

I ignored him, already mentally tuning out.

That was the thing about my brain. Conversations were exhausting because my attention span had the loyalty of a stray cat—it went where it wanted, when it wanted. Half the time, I zoned out mid-sentence, and people thought I was being rude.

It wasn’t my fault though. I just had a million thoughts at once, and my brain was always ten steps ahead while my mouth was struggling to keep up.

Sometimes, I hyper-focused so hard on something insignificant that I forgot what I was doing entirely. Other times, I got so restless that I had to do something, anything, or I’d lose my mind.

Right now, I was counting Caleb’s shirtless abs for no reason other than my brain thought it was an interesting thing to do.

One, two, three—f*****g gross! Stop!

I forced myself to refocus and turned toward the door, desperate to get away now as he took a seat at the table in the middle of the room with his plate of eggs and a stack of toast.

"Don't choke on your burnt-ass breakfast, dickhead," I spat, the disdain clear in my voice.

He grinned. "I like my eggs crispy," he countered, as if that were some kind of trump card.

I raised my middle finger over my shoulder as I left the room.

I was barely through the door when Caleb’s voice rang out again.

"Oh, by the way," he called, the amusement still thick in his voice. "Ryan’s coming over later."

My grip on my energy drink tightened and I stopped dead in my tracks.

Ryan.

The name alone sent a flicker of something sharp and bitter through me. I forced a blank expression as I turned to look at Caleb over my shoulder.

"And you’re telling me this because…?"

His smirk widened. "Just thought you might want to know. He’s single again."

There it was… that smug, knowing glint in his eyes.

I exhaled slowly, taking another sip of my drink before muttering, "Unsurprising."

Then I turned again and headed back to my room, slamming the door behind me.