I’m An Alpha Who’s About To Die

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon, leaving the moon as the only thing shining through the dark, smog-choked sky. Linda Spinner. Twenty-one. Just trying to survive. I stand on the small stage inside the dive bar, watching the tip jar slowly fill as I fight to make enough money to see my mama smile again. I’m singing my heart out, pouring every drop of energy into the microphone. Countless eyes stagger against my skin, digging into my flesh like needles, but all I can think about is the weight of the medical bills piled up on our kitchen table. My mother was knocking on heaven’s gates just last week. I rushed to her side when the hospital called, terrified it was the end. I managed to find the words to comfort her, giving her a moment of true happiness before her time runs out. Right now, I’m just trying to make a deal with fate. I am bartering my voice for her life. After finishing my set, I step down from the stage. Every movement makes the old floorboards creak and groan. The air in the bar feels like ice, stinging against my damp skin. I take a seat on one of the cold, metallic barstools. I stare at the bartender, blinking slowly before offering him a crooked, weary smile. "Hey, pour me a drink, Mach. I’m dying for a glass. It’s been a stressful week." I rest my chin in my hands, trying to shield myself from the toxic air of the room. The thick cigarette smoke and the scent of stale beer feel like they’re trying to swallow me whole. "Of course, my dear," Mach answers warmly. "You’re my favorite singer. This one is on the house tonight." He mixes the drink with a fluid, rhythmic grace that makes me smile. It’s a comforting motion, a rare slice of warmth in a place like this. I take the glass, watching the condensation bead like cold sweat on the surface. The flavor is incredible—savory, with a hidden, floral sweetness. "You’re a kind man, Mach. How did a soul like yours end up trapped in a dive bar like this?" I ask, leaning heavily against the sticky wooden counter. His voice drops into a heavy, resonant sigh. "I come from a poor family, Linda. It seems I’m destined to stay poor until the very end of my days." Guilt swells in my chest like a rising tide. It’s a familiar weight. "I’m sorry I asked," I whisper. "It’s fine," he says, waving the apology away with a stained rag. A comfortable silence grows between us. Then, without warning, the atmosphere in the room shifts. The entrance doors swing open. A presence so heavy and suffocating pours into the room that it steals the very air from my lungs. The low chatter of the bar instantly dies. It is a man. He is dressed in a dark, tailored suit. The fabric looks impossibly rich, practically absorbing the dim light of the room. He wears a dark red tie, the color so striking it looks like fresh blood. But his face... his face is flawless. He looks like a fallen angel who just plummeted from the golden gates. His jawline is sharp and perfect, his skin pale and smooth. He has ocean-deep eyes that seem to hold an ancient, chilling weight. Looking at him makes my stomach twist into knots. He is the very definition of lethal beauty. "Oh, dear," Mach mutters from behind the counter. "Linda, your drink..." I snap out of my daze and look down. In my distraction, my hand had slipped. The glass is tipped over, spilling the sweet liquid all over the counter Mach had just wiped down. "Oh my god, I am so sorry!" I gasp, grabbing a handful of napkins. "I didn't mean to do that. Let me clean it." My breath catches in my throat. I feel completely out of sorts. "It’s fine," Mach sighs, taking the wet napkins from me. "I can handle it." I offer him a tight, apologetic smile, but the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps draws my attention. A heavy beat echoes in my ears—my own racing heart. "Who are you, beautiful girl?" The voice is cold, sharp, and laced with an intoxicating velvet tone. It cuts straight through the noise of the bar. I turn my head and realize the stranger in the suit is standing right next to me. "s**t," I mutter under my breath. I scramble to stand up, but my heels catch on the footrest of the stool. My coordination fails me, and I fall hard onto the dirty floorboards. Dust kicks up around me, and my mind shrinks into absolute panic. "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’m just... I’m not in my right mind today," I ramble, the words spilling out unfiltered. His presence is simply too intense to handle. "Did I frighten you? I didn't mean to cause an accident." He looks down at me. His expression is unreadable, as cold as carved stone. He steps closer and offers me his hand. I stare at his pale, outstretched fingers. My own hands are trembling. I don't want to touch him. He looks too perfect, too dangerous to be standing in the grime of this bar. I ignore his hand and push myself up on my own, brushing the dust off my cheap dress. I push my hair back, my cheeks burning as the temperature in the room inexplicably rises. "Well, she is certainly fiery," Mach chuckles nervously from behind me. I shoot Mach a glaring look. Why is he betraying me like this? "I'm fine," I say sharply. I turn back to the stranger. I force a polite smile, finally meeting his gaze. He offers his hand a second time, unrelenting. I hesitate for a long second. Taking a deep breath, I reach out and place my hand in his. The moment our skin connects, a freezing, electric spark shoots up my arm. My entire body tenses. It is a terrifying, consuming energy—and I am entirely unprepared to handle it.