Cursed But Wanted By My Alpha Teacher

Prologue: Briella’s POV “Yvonne!” I screamed, gasping for air as my eyes shot open. No answer. Just birds chirping and leaves rustling somewhere above me. Oh yeah… she’s dead. The thought hit hard, sharp enough to make my eyes sting. I rubbed my face with shaky hands, trying to steady my breathing. My head was pounding again, like someone had slammed it against a wall. I looked around. The ground was torn up, filled with broken branches and claw marks. My jacket was ripped, and my hands were covered in blood. Great. Another blackout. I pushed myself up, swaying a little. My backpack lay a few feet away, half-buried under leaves. I grabbed it and checked my supplies…. water, knife, small first aid kit. Still there. At least that was something. I couldn’t remember what happened. Suddenly flashes of growling, a blur of silver, a scream that might’ve been mine. Then nothing. Just darkness and that same crushing guilt that never left. I spat to the side, tasting blood. My lip was split. “Perfect,” I muttered. “Real nice job, Brielle.” I needed to move. If I stayed here, someone might find me or worse, it might come back for me. My map was torn, but I still knew the direction I needed to go. East, through the ridge, past the creek…. Harold Grainger’s territory wasn’t far now. At least that’s what the trader in Fenwood said. The man had looked at me like I was insane when I asked about Harold, but I didn’t care. I needed him. I’d heard the stories. He was the hunter who trained wolves to control their shifts. The man who killed one of his own students after a failed transformation. I didn’t have another option. My legs felt heavy as I started walking. The forest was quiet, except for the crunch of my boots on wet leaves. I stopped at a stream to wash the blood off my hands. The water turned red, then clear again. I stared at my reflection. My hair was messier now, dirt on my face and my eyes were darker than I remembered. “Get it together,” I whispered to myself. “You just need to find him. That’s all.” Somewhere behind me, a twig snapped. I froze. My fingers closed around the knife on my belt, eyes scanning the trees. Nothing. Just the wind again. But I didn’t relax. I couldn’t anymore. One more blackout like that, and I might not wake up next time. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and kept walking. By the time I reached the edge of the village, my boots were caked with mud and my head still felt like it had been split open. The place wasn’t what I expected. I’d pictured something grim… with smoke, hunters and the usual smell of old blood. Instead, there were small huts, a few market stalls, and actual laughter. Kids ran barefoot through the dirt paths, chasing each other with wooden sticks. One of them, a little boy with messy curls, bumped into me and froze like he’d hit a wall. “Sorry, miss!” he said quickly, eyes wide. I managed a small smile. “It’s fine. You okay?” He nodded and grinned before darting back toward his friends. A few more kids surrounded me, curious. One tugged on the strap of my bag, another asked if I had candy. I didn’t, but I knelt down anyway and ruffled her hair. She giggled and the sound hit something deep inside me. Yvonne used to laugh like that. For a second, I forgot about the pain, the blood, everything. I could almost hear my sister’s voice again, teasing me about always being the serious one. My chest tightened, the memory cutting sharper than I wanted. “You’re not from around here, are you?” I looked up. A girl about my age stood a few feet away, holding a basket of herbs. Her smile was kind, so kind, I felt bad. “Just passing through,” I said. “I’m looking for someone.” “Oh? Who?” “Harold Grainger.” The words left my mouth easily, but the effect was immediate. The laughter stopped. Every single person around me went quiet like I’d said something forbidden. The kids glanced at their parents. The woman’s smile faded. She looked at me, then at the others. No one spoke. Finally, an old man sitting by a cart pointed up the hill. “There,” he said, voice low. “In the hut. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I nodded slowly. “Thank you.” I adjusted my bag and started walking up the hill. I could feel their eyes on me. “She’s mad.” “No one goes up there anymore.” “Why would she want to see him?” I kept walking. I’d heard worse before. Whatever waited up there…. I didn’t care if it was danger, death, or both. I needed help, and Harold Grainger was the only one who could give them to me.