Chosen by the Ruthless Alpha

Two

“See?” Will said, wiping mud off his jaw and somehow smearing it worse. “This is why I would never ask for a new Protector. You’re too amazing.” I gave him a flat look. His grin turned wicked. “For a woman.”

I c****d an eyebrow and walked back around the car. “You say that to the woman who just had you pinned in a ditch.”

His smile vanished into a scowl, and he muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like lucky shot.

“My hearing is excellent,” I said, opening my door.

He spoke again, louder and too sweet. “I said you’re very strong and inspiring.”

“Mm-hmm. Your morning run is over, school starts in twenty minutes, and you smell like wet dog. Get your little werewolf tail in the car, William.”

Will sighed like I had personally ruined his life, but he obeyed, yanking open the passenger door and dropping into the seat with his entire back covered in mud.

I looked at the leather interior. Then at him. Then back at the leather. He smiled innocently. I inhaled through my nose, counted to three, and reminded myself that killing my Charge would be frowned upon.

The only true downfall of being a Protector was that I had to be with Will almost every second of every day.

When he was asleep, I stood outside his room or rested close enough to hear if anything went wrong. When he was in the bathroom, I stood on the other side of the door. When he was in class, I waited in the hallway like a highly trained, deeply irritated statue.

Some packs were more lenient with the arrangement, allowing distance when the Charge remained on secure territory. But White Wolf did not believe in leniency where future leaders and warriors were concerned.

So, yes, I got to suffer through four years of high school all over again. Luckily, Will was already a sophomore. Only two more years.

The thought did not comfort me as much as it should have.

When Protectors and Charges were assigned, it usually happened when the Charge shifted or turned sixteen, whichever came first. It was also the moment the Protector’s real training began.

Before Will, I had been chosen by the Elders as White Wolf’s future Beta, a decision that had startled some and angered others. I had been twenty-four when they assigned him to me, older than some Protectors were when they received their first Charge, but Alpha Jon had said patience built precision.

I suspected the Elders had simply wanted to see whether my temper would sharpen into leadership or become the reason they changed their minds. Honestly, I thought I would have made a better Alpha.

I didn’t want a mate yet. I did not need one. I didn’t cling to emotion, didn’t soften when others wanted comfort, and did not waste time pretending brutality could be dressed up as mercy. Anger was the only feeling I trusted because anger moved. Anger acted. Anger kept the blood hot and the body ready.

But the Elders had chosen me for Beta, and a Beta served where the pack needed them.

Even when that service involved sitting in a high school parking lot while Will tried to scrape mud off his backpack with a napkin he found under the seat.

“You’re making it worse,” I said.

“I’m improving it,” he huffed.

“You’re creating a mud paste.”

“It’s called innovation.”

“It’s called disgusting,” I pointed out, earning me an offended look from Will as I pulled into the high school lot.

The building rose ahead of us in all its brick-and-glass glory, surrounded by clusters of human teenagers who moved in loud, chaotic packs of their own. They wore too much perfume, laughed too loudly, and stared too openly whenever Will and I crossed the pavement together. You would think after months of seeing me shadow him, they would have grown bored.

Humans were strangely persistent creatures.

“Is today Day A or Day B?” I asked, shutting off the engine.

Will froze with one hand on the door handle.

I slowly turned my head.

He stared through the windshield with the solemn dread of someone confronting his own stupidity.

“William.”

“I think it’s Day A,” he said, though it sounded more like a question.

“You think?”

His mouth twisted. “Pretty sure.”

“Which means gym instead of study hall?”

“Right.”

I watched him for another second, long enough to make him squirm, then climbed out. The BMW chirped when I locked it, and Will fell into step beside me as we crossed the parking lot. He kept a little more distance than usual, probably hoping no one noticed the mud caked down his back. Unfortunately for him, several human girls near the front doors noticed immediately and dissolved into whispers.

Will’s ears turned red. I bit back a smile.

Inside, the school swallowed us in fluorescent light, polished floors, and the sharp scent of pencil shavings, cheap body spray, cafeteria grease, and human anxiety. Will headed toward his locker while I lingered several paces behind, close enough to reach him if I needed to but far enough that he could pretend he had some independence. That mattered to him, though he rarely said it.

Being a Charge was an honor, but it was also a leash. Everyone watched. Everyone evaluated. Everyone waited to see whether he would become what the Elders believed he could be.

I knew what that pressure felt like. So, I gave him space when I could.

He laughed with a few of his friends near the lockers, shoulders loosening as one of them said something that made him shove them lightly. For a moment, he looked exactly like what he was: a sixteen-year-old boy with mud on his clothes and no idea how fragile the world could become when it decided to break beneath his feet.

Something tightened in my chest and I looked away.

The first bell rang, shrill and unforgiving, and students began spilling into classrooms. Will glanced back at me once before stepping into first period, and I took my usual position to the left of the door, feet squared with my shoulders, hands folded behind my back, face settling into the expression that had made more than one freshman turn around and choose a different hallway.

Looking unpleasant saved time. Unfortunately, it did not save enough.

“You know,” a rough male voice said from my right, “you’d be a lot prettier if you smiled.” Annoyance pricked across my skin at the voice.

I turned my head just enough to see a human boy approaching. Tall, broad-shouldered, probably eighteen, with shaggy hair and the kind of smirk that suggested no one had ever taught him the difference between confidence and stupidity. His gaze swept over me in a way that made my fingers curl against my palms.

“That’s nice to know,” I said dryly, turning back to the row of red lockers across from me. “But I don’t really like smiling.”

He chuckled. “You’re different.”

“I’m busy,” I deadpanned.

“If I may ask, how old are you?”

I faced him then, slowly enough that some instinct buried deep in his very human body should have warned him to leave. It did not. His smirk widened instead, and I let my gaze travel over him with cold assessment.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not checking you out. I’m calculating how far you’ll go when I punch you if you don’t leave me alone. His eyebrows lifted. “I certainly am not someone you want to attempt to hit on,” I added.

“I’d be surprised if you could even knock me down, sweetheart.”

My anger sparked, hot and clean.

I took one step toward him. Only one. My posture did not change. My voice did not rise. But the air between us sharpened, and some part of him finally seemed to understand that whatever he thought this conversation was, he had miscalculated.

“Look,” I said, each word calm enough to be dangerous. “I am not some little girl who will fall for idiotic lines because you leaned against a locker and called her sweetheart. You are too young for me, too juvenile to recognize a warning when one is handed to you, and far too breakable to keep standing here testing me. So, I suggest you run back to class before I throw you down this hallway and make you explain to the nurse how you tripped over your own ego.”

His face paled. “S-Sorry for bothering you.” Then he turned and hurried away so fast he nearly slipped on the polished floor.

A smug smile touched my mouth before I could stop it. Maybe this day would not be entirely terrible.