The Alpha Rejected Me And Created A Monster

1

SELENA

My eyes opened on their own as I sat up in bed, letting out a sigh of relief. The aroma of my grandma’s pancakes wafted through the door, filling the house with a sweet, comforting scent.

I was grateful for the interruption, not because I didn’t want to stay in bed longer, but because it was another night of that same recurring dream.

It had haunted me since childhood, but as I got older, it turned more into a nightmare.

I had no one to interpret it, and every time I brought it up to my grandmother, her answer was always the same:

“Keep your head low and try to live as well as you possibly can without drawing attention to yourself.”

I muttered the words aloud, hearing her voice in my mind as clearly as if she were standing beside me.

She had raised me since my parents died, in this quiet home nestled near the woods. Small and humble compared to the others in our neighborhood, but it was my haven.

From my bedroom window, I could see trees stretching endlessly, and beyond them, the ocean glittered like a secret only I knew.

As a child, the dreams were gentler. The same plot, just less dark. I’d find myself walking through the woods beside a woman who seemed to float instead of walk, moonlight woven through her hair.

She never spoke, always leading me down a riverbank to a confluence. That’s when things changed—most times, the dream ended with a black wolf and a man hidden in the shadows. Other nights brought cryptic messages I could never decode.

In my teenage years, the man tried speaking to me, though he never stepped out of the shadows, no matter how much I pleaded. I didn’t know what he looked like, but his voice—a deep baritone—was unforgettable.

When I finished high school, the dream shifted. The woman now had the moon at her feet, and the once peaceful scenes turned disturbing. Blood rains. Wolves fighting. And the man? Gone, most nights.

I longed for dreamless sleep, but clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.

Dragging myself out of bed, I followed the delicious scent into the kitchen. My grandmother stood at the stove flipping pancakes, her silver hair pinned back, the morning light softening her features.

“Morning, Nonna,” I greeted.

“Morning, Selena,” she replied without turning. “How’re you feeling? Any nightmares?”

I leaned against the doorway, rubbing my temple. “Slight headache. Same dream again. I’ll be fine.”

She clicked her tongue. “I’ll make a new batch of the potion—stronger than the last. I’ll gather more herbs from—”

“I don’t want another batch, Nonna,” I interrupted gently.

“This isn’t about what you want, Selena. It’s about keeping you safe. You need to—”

“Suppress the urge and avoid drawing attention. I know the drill. I just don’t like the potions.”

She shrugged, and that was her way of ending the conversation. She knew I disliked them, but I’d still drink them.

I walked to the counter as she slid the pancakes onto plates and poured me a cup of coffee.

“Think of it like coffee when you drink it. Maybe that’ll help,” she teased.

I chuckled softly. “Sure. I’ll try that.”

A glance at the clock made my eyes widen. “s**t! I’m late for work!”

“You have to eat something!” she called as I rushed toward the door.

I darted back in, grabbed two pancakes, and stuffed them in my mouth. “Love you!” I mumbled, racing upstairs.

Ten minutes later, I’d showered, pulled on my favorite sweatpants and T-shirt, and was headed for the door when Nonna appeared holding a steaming cup.

“Drink this.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking a cautious sip. Bitter, as always. Definitely not coffee.

“You too, child,” she said, taking the empty cup from me.

I bolted down the steps and toward the store.

I worked at a small coffee shop a few blocks away, and for the first time since I started, I was late. I hoped the owner hadn’t arrived yet—I wasn’t in the mood to come up with a convincing excuse.

Saying I overslept just wouldn’t cut it. If I was lucky, he hadn’t shown up, and I could open up before he did. But luck was rarely on my side.

I crossed the street, took a left, and spotted two figures standing outside the shop. My heart sank for a second, but relief washed over me when I realized it wasn’t the owner.

“Oh look, it’s the girl from the woods. You’re late,” a voice called.

I stifled a groan. Daniel Montell.

One of the snobbish kids I’d grown up with, though not as unbearable as his companion—Kieran McCain. Billionaire. Brat. Alpha of the Bloodfang pack.

I always tried to stay out of their way, but somehow, they made it their mission to cross mine. High school had ended years ago, but apparently, the immaturity hadn’t.

Still, I was relieved it wasn’t the store owner.

“Sorry. I’m a little under the weather. What can I get you?” I asked as I walked past them and unlocked the door.

“The usual,” Kieran muttered. “Make it fast.”

I nodded and got to work as they slipped into the seats at the back.