Overheating in class because of some broad shoulders and stupidly attractive smirks.
“Pathetic,” I muttered to myself, rubbing my temple.
It wasn’t like they were the only hot alphas in this gods-forsaken academy. Surely there were others. Ones I wasn’t sharing a dorm with. Ones I could gawk at from a safe distance. Maybe even write bad poetry about in my secret notes, like a normal hormonally repressed teenager.
Just… not Derrick. Not Dalton.
Those two were off-limits. For my sanity, safety, and the integrity of my secret.
Because the moment either of them figured out what I was?
It was game over.
I wasn’t here to flirt or fantasize. I was here to survive.
And that meant getting a grip.
So I made a plan. A perfectly reasonable plan.
Step One: Find another alpha-one not living in my room, thank you very much-with distracting muscles and an easy smile.
Step Two: Channel all this dumb, itchy, restless hormonal nonsense in his direction.
Step Three: Stare from across the room. Maybe blush. Maybe imagine a life where I didn’t have a bandage taped to my chest every day and a fake gender.
Step Four: Move on, find another one and repeat.
Easy, right?
There were muscles everywhere. Testosterone in the air like cologne. The Academy was a walking, flexing buffet of attractive options.
Surely I could pick one that wasn’t going to accidentally sit on my bed shirtless or pin me to a training mat.
Easy.
Except… not.
Because the class ended, and I stood up with two pages of notes and not a single useful memory in my brain.
Not about the treaty. Not about the rebellion. Not even the name of the ancient Alpha who apparently ended three wars with a handshake and a prayer.
Nope.
All I remembered was the way Dalton had looked at me during the lecture. That slow, analytical scan. Like he was studying me.
And Derrick? He sat one row behind and to the left. I could feel his eyes every time I shifted in my chair. The weight of his attention was almost tangible.
So yeah.
Plan: not off to a great start.
I headed to the cafeteria alone, clutching my tablet like a lifeline.
It was my first lunch at the Academy, and I had no idea what to expect. The line was already long, the noise level somewhere between chaotic and overwhelming. Trays clattered, laughter echoed from every corner, and the sharp scent of cooked meat mixed with something vaguely medicinal hung in the air.
I wasn’t picky-I’d eat whatever they put on the plate-but I prayed it was something hot and protein-heavy. I just needed food. A quiet corner. Five uninterrupted minutes to eat, breathe, and pretend I wasn’t completely out of my depth.
I was halfway through the line, tray in hand, still trying to figure out if the grayish lumps were supposed to be meatballs or sad potatoes, when I felt him.
Reyes.
The moment he popped up behind me, I jumped like a spooked cat.
“Savage!” he said, grinning wide. “You avoided me at breakfast. I’m not letting you get away with it at lunch too. Come with me. I wanna introduce you to my roommates.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
Closed it again.
Opened it again.
But Reyes was already grabbing an extra apple and walking away, assuming I’d follow like some lost puppy.
And the worst part?
I did.
Because saying no to Reyes was like trying to hold back a flood with your bare hands. The guy was a walking ball of golden retriever energy, and I hated how easy it was to smile at him.
Hated even more that I did in fact smile at him.
Idiot.
Do not give the golden retriever too much confidence or he’ll turn into a pest.
But Reyes was persistent, and I’d learned by now that avoiding him didn’t work. The guy could sniff out my presence like a bloodhound.
So-reluctantly-I followed him toward the table.
The cafeteria was packed. Noise ricocheted off the walls, trays clattered, and the air reeked of testosterone and overcooked meat. Reyes cut through the chaos with his usual overconfidence, greeting people like he was some damn celebrity, tossing out winks and high-fives.
He stopped at a table near the far window. I slowed, my stomach knotting.
Two guys were already sitting there.
Twins.
Tall, broad, sharp-featured-like they’d been carved from the same piece of ice and sharpened at the edges. Same pale blond hair, cropped short. Same piercing silver eyes. Same aura of contained violence, like predators who didn’t bother to hide their hunger.
They didn’t look up when we approached. One of them kept twirling a fork between his fingers like a knife. The other sat unnervingly still, watching a group across the room with the detached interest of someone planning a hit.
“Savage,” Reyes said, grinning. “These are my roommates-Bart and Bret Holloway.”
My tray nearly slipped from my hands.
Holloway.
As in Hollowed Moon Pack.
As in the mortal enemies of my family’s pack.
Oh, f*ck me sideways.
The Hollowed Moon territory bordered mine to the west, across the Canadian ridge, separated by frozen lakes and twenty years of silence. No battles. No treaties. Just one long, bitter stalemate. No one talked about what caused it-at least not where I could hear-but I’d
grown up on stories of their savagery. Their cruelty. The kind of alphas who didn’t need full moons to turn feral.
And now they were in front of me. Smirking.
Such great news.
??? POV
Two seconds. That’s how long it took for the mood to shift.
The moment I sat down at the end of the bench-far from the twins and close enough to bolt if I had to-they finally acknowledged me properly.
Bart’s eyes dragged over me like I was dirt under his boot. His lip curled in a sneer. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Reyes,” Bret said flatly, “you brought a mutt to our table?”
My fingers tensed around the fork. I hadn’t even tasted my food yet.
Reyes blinked, half-laughing. “Dude, what the hell? What’s your problem? I just thought-“
“I don’t give a shit what you thought.” Bart jabbed his thumb at me. “You can sniff out an omega in heat from two blocks away, but you can’t smell the rot coming off this one?”
“Watch your mouth,” I said before I could stop myself. The words came out low and calm. Which, for me, was the final warning before someone got their face introduced to the floor.
Bret’s gaze turned razor-sharp. “You threatening me, boy?”
Boy.
It was almost funny, really. I’d spent years crafting that illusion. Hiding my scent, binding my chest, dropping my voice in just the right way. Most days, it worked flawlessly. It had to.
But right now? Right now it made me itch just as much as this goddamn uniform.
“Not threatening,” I said, voice steady. “Just promising.”
Reyes raised his hands. “Whoa, okay, can we chill for like, five seconds? This is lunch. Not a territory challenge.”
“No need to get your tail in a twist, Reyes,” Bart said lazily. “We’re just having a conversation with your… charity case.”
My eyebrow twitched. “Come again?”
“Oh, you heard me.” He leaned in, elbows on the table, smirk like poison. “You’ve been sniffing around big bad alphas to protect your scrawny ass. Can’t say I blame you. They’re at least half-decent to spar with.”
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