The Unstable Alpha, I‘m His Only Salvation

　　Hollowbrook sat surrounded by forest, rainy and foggy. A totally ordinary town. 　　Gwyneth Hale went to Hollowbrook High, the only public high school in town. Eleventh grade. 　　The yellow school bus rocked along. Rain tapped against the windows. Gwyneth cracked the top window open a little. Cold air and the smell of damp earth rushed in. She pulled her jacket tighter and shut it almost without thinking. 　　“Hey, you hear? Samuel took the team to another regional title.” 　　“Duh, I heard. Yesterday’s game? The whole bleacher section lost it. You ever see him out there? It’s kind of scary.” 　　Two girls in the back row were gossiping. 　　“Right? And he’s only eighteen.” 　　Gwyneth bit her lip. That shameful memory from the other day came rushing back. 　　The talk behind her kept going. Probably more about that school celebrity Samuel Voss. 　　She’d heard that name about a million times since transferring here. 　　Practically the whole school knew him. Plenty of people worshipped him. His locker was always stuffed with notes and confession letters from girls. Guys tried all kinds of things to get into his circle, just to catch a little of that glow. 　　At first, Gwyneth figured she’d never have anything to do with someone like him. 　　Then a birthday party happened, and everything changed. 　　At noon that day, Gwyneth sat in the shade as usual, picking at a stale sandwich. 　　She was still surprised that Hollowbrook had finally cleared up. She was about to take a photo when a text popped up on her phone’s home screen—a link to a Partiful party page. 　　Gwyneth hesitated for a second, then tapped the link. A vintage-style poster filled the screen. She scrolled down a bit and saw the host’s name:Lacey. 　　Tall Latina girl, eleventh grade. Pretty, down-to-earth. She captained the varsity cheer squad, and she was at almost every football game Samuel Voss played in. 　　The only time Gwyneth had ever actually interacted with her was in bio. 　　The teacher randomly drew names for groups of four. Gwyneth somehow ended up in the same group as Lacey. 　　The other two were Lacey’s friends. Knowing she was a straight-A student, they set their pens aside and chatted freely. 　　Parties, makeup, all kinds of gossip. 　　Gwyneth wanted to jump in, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise. 　　She sighed and ducked her head, grabbed some random worksheet, and pretended to be busy. 　　Only Lacey noticed her. 　　But she didn’t say anything. She just slid her neatly organized notes toward Gwyneth’s hand. 　　Gwyneth was a little surprised. She looked up at Lacey. Lacey just smiled and blinked, then glanced helplessly at her two friends who were deep in conversation, like she was telling Gwyneth not to take it personally. 　　After that, for a bunch of reasons, they never had another class together. 　　The only way to connect with her now was this birthday invite. It was also meant to pump people up for the upcoming regional football game. 　　That was the kind of idea only Lacey could come up with. 　　Gwyneth kept scrolling. A long list of confirmed guests popped up. Most of the familiar names from school were on it. Samuel’s name stood out. 　　She froze for a second when she saw his name, then quickly scrolled to the bottom. 　　At the bottom of the page, two bold buttons floated:“I’m Going”and“I Can’t Make It.” 　　Gwyneth’s finger hovered over them, unsure. A loud party, strangers laughing and talking in clusters—she didn’t belong there. She was just some random name on the list. If she went, she’d probably end up a wallflower in the corner. 　　But then she thought about Saturday night in that cold little apartment her dad left behind, and she felt miserable. 　　Since the divorce, it had just been her in that apartment. 　　She’d learned to be independent early. Learned to listen to the rain, the ticking clock, mindlessly scroll on her phone, then fall asleep and end the day. 　　On those long nights, there wasn’t much to do to pass the time. 　　Soon it was Saturday. Gwyneth figured she’d just show up, check things out, not be rude. She changed into a white knee-length dress, clean white sneakers, slung a canvas tote over her shoulder, threw on a jacket, and headed out. 　　In late autumn, Hollowbrook got dark fast. Cold too, with fog everywhere. 　　Gwyneth didn’t have a car, so she rode the old mountain bike her grandpa left behind. 　　She was confident in that bike. It was at least as old as she was. Her grandpa used to ride her into the woods on it when he was still alive. No trick was too hard for him. 　　And now she was just riding at night, that’s all. A little darker, a little foggier. 　　So what? She had a bike light. Even the dark couldn’t stop her. 　　She had wired earbuds in, looping“die for you.”The beat made her pedal harder. 　　The moment the song hit its peak, a blinding white light hit her eyes. 　　The music was still blasting in her ears. She couldn’t react in time. She and the bike went down hard on the gravel road. The bike she was so proud of slammed into the back of a car stopped ahead. 　　“I’m done for,”Gwyneth thought. 　　She wanted to stand, apologize, see if anything was broken. But her leg was hurt and bleeding bad. Even sitting up was a struggle. 　　Her earbuds had been knocked out and tangled on the ground, still playing the rough chorus in bursts. 　　Gwyneth was mortified. She fumbled for her phone in her jacket pocket to turn the music off. 　　But just as she found it, the driver got out. 　　Tall, heavily built guy. 　　He stood over Gwyneth, looking down at her. She looked up, and he crouched down. 　　“You—” 　　Gwyneth pressed a hand to her chest, staring at his face, too nervous to speak. 　　“Samuel Voss?”she managed. 　　He nodded. 　　Gwyneth thought she might pass out. She couldn’t believe it. Her first meeting with Samuel, and this was how it went. 　　“You’re hurt,”Samuel said, looking at the cut on her calf. 　　“You scratched my truck. Insurance isn’t cheap. What are you going to do about it?” 　　Gwyneth looked at his pickup, taillights still glowing, and her heart sank. 　　She wanted to say she’d pay him back. She’d get a part-time job and slowly cover the repairs. 　　But then her gaze landed on the top of Samuel’s head. Two huge, out-of-place wolf ears broke through his human appearance. She couldn’t speak. 　　Had she hit her head? 　　Had she lost too much blood and started hallucinating? 　　But the ears were really there, standing straight up on his head. They were moving—twitching slightly back, like some alert animal catching sounds. 　　Then the ears vanished. 　　As if they had never been there. 　　Gwyneth blinked. Samuel was still just Samuel. Dark hair, hard jawline, deep green eyes like a bottomless lake. He was looking at her leg, frowning the same way she’d seen in the school hallway. 　　He seemed irritated. 　　Like he was holding something back. 　　“Did you hear me?”Samuel asked. 　　She snapped back. 　　She looked at her bloody calf, then at the scratched rear bumper of his pickup. Her voice caught in her throat, and for a second she didn’t know which disaster to deal with first. 　　“I’ll pay for it. I’ve worked at a burger joint as a cashier. I can save up.” 　　“Can you stand right now?”Samuel cut her off. 　　He was crouched in front of her, close enough that she could smell something on him. Not the usual guy smell of sweat or laundry detergent, but something more primal—the smell of a forest after rain. 　　“I-I’ll try.” 　　Gwyneth tried to move her leg. A sharp pain shot through her, and she sucked in a breath. 　　“I’ll take you home,”Samuel said. 　　He stood, dug a clean towel from the back of his pickup, and crouched back down without hesitating. He used the towel to bandage her leg. 　　Gwyneth stared at the top of his head. She must have hit her head hard—without thinking, she reached out and touched it. 　　It was furry, warm. The moment her fingers brushed it, the ears flattened sharply, as if spooked. 　　Gwyneth’s breath caught in her throat. 　　Samuel froze mid-movement.