They Called Me a Worthless Half-Breed Until the Alpha Claimed Me

I came home two hours early from the academy, holding my breath so the floorboards wouldn't creak.

I had Dax’s birthday gift tucked in my bag. I had two weeks of saved wages in my pocket to take him out for dinner.

The key turned smoothly in the lock. I pushed the door open, ready to yell surprise.

The word died on my tongue.

Right there on the entryway mat sat a red patent-leather stiletto. The heel was thin as an embroidery needle. It tilted against my worn running sneakers like an insult.

I didn't own red shoes.

I pulled the key from the lock and eased the door shut until the latch clicked.

My boots slipped off by sheer muscle memory, but I couldn't feel the floor beneath my socks.

I was moving on pure, numb autopilot—like my mind had detached from my limbs and was watching a ghost walk down the hall in my place.

Down the short hallway, the bedroom door stood half open.

A laugh drifted through the crack. High, breathy, familiar down to the cadence.

It was Seren. My best friend since our first semester at the academy.

"Dax, stop," she purred. "What if she comes back early?"

"She has lab until six," Dax’s voice answered, muffled and thick. "She won't be back. Forget about her."

I walked down the hall. Every step felt light, almost weightless. I reached the doorway and shoved the wood open.

The hinge gave a short, high squeak.

The two bodies tangled on the mattress froze as if struck by lightning.

Dax jerked upright, kicking free of the twisted sheets. He was completely bare, his skin flushed pink, his dark hair sticking up in sweaty spikes.

"Elowen!" His jaw worked furiously, producing only half-formed syllables before his voice cracked. "Elowen, wait! Listen to me—it's not what you think!"

Next to him, Seren scrambled back against the headboard, dragging the duvet over her chest. The color drained from her cheeks until she looked like chalk. Her lips trembled, but not a single sound made it past her teeth.

I stood in the doorway, staring.

It was my bed. The white linen sheets I had washed and ironed two days ago. Right above their heads hung the lunar crest tapestry I had spent three weeks stitching by hand, a token to bring peace to his nightmares.

My backpack slid from my fingers. It hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud.

A low ringing started between my ears. My chest tightened until air could barely pass through my windpipe. My knees gave a slight tremor, and I braced my palm against the doorframe to steady myself.

Two years.

Two years of covering his gambling debts so the loan sharks wouldn't break his fingers. Two years of sitting beside his mother’s hospital bed when he was too drunk to care. Two years of polishing that stupid silver wolf pendant hanging around his neck until the metal shone.

All for this.

"Say something," Dax begged, scrambling off the edge of the mattress, his feet tangling in the duvet. "Please, El. You’re scaring me."

I didn't speak. I couldn't. If I opened my mouth right then, I felt like my ribcage might crack wide open.

I bent down, took the strap of my backpack, and straightened.

"Elowen!" he yelled.

I turned around, walked into the living room, and sat down on the faded sofa.

The silence of the apartment felt thick, almost smothering. I reached for the glass pitcher on the low table and poured water into a cup. The rim of the pitcher clinked against the glass—a sharp, rattling sound.

My fingers were shaking.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Dax skidded into the living room, a navy bedsheet knotted awkwardly around his waist. He looked pathetic. Sweat dripped down his temple, and his chest rose and fell in jagged heaves.

He hit his knees in front of me with a wet thump.

His hands shot out, wrapping around my ankle. "Elowen, I lost my mind. I swear to you, it meant nothing! She came over to help plan your birthday thing, and we had wine, and—"

"Take your hands off me," I said.

My voice came out flat. Level. Without a tremor.

Dax froze. He stared up at me, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "El, look at me. It was an accident. One mistake. You know how much I love you. You know I can't survive out there without you."

"Your hands, Dax."

He loosened his grip, his fingers lingering on the hem of my trousers before dropping to the carpet. "Just give me a chance to fix this. We can move past this. Couples do it all the time."

"A chance?" I looked down at his face, taking in the panic etched around his mouth. "Did you think about giving me a chance when you brought her into my bed?"

"It was a mistake!" he cried, slamming a fist into the carpet. "Why won't you let me explain?"

"There is nothing to explain," I said. "Put your clothes on. Get out of my apartment. Come back before noon tomorrow to take the rest of your junk. If I see your face here after twelve, I'm throwing everything you own out the window into the alley."

"You can't kick me out!" His voice rose, turning shrill. "My name is on the lease too!"

"Your name was removed two months ago when you failed to pay your half of the deposit," I told him, holding his gaze until he looked away. "The landlord took my money. The lease belongs to me."

"Elowen, please."

"Every second you breathe in this room disgusts me," I said. "Move."

A soft rustle came from the hallway.

Seren stood near the archway, wrapped in my floral quilt. She had pulled her damp brown hair back, though strands clung to her neck. Her eyes were rimmed with red, brimming with fresh tears.

"Elowen," Seren whispered, taking a timid step forward. "Don't blame Dax. Please. It wasn't just him."

I turned my head toward her. "Did I invite you to join the conversation?"

She flinched, but she didn't retreat. She reached a hand out, trying to touch my arm. "We didn't plan this. It just happened. We’ve been trying to fight it for weeks, but... we have real feelings for each other. If you ever cared about me as a friend, you’d try to understand. Just let us have this."

I pulled my arm back, completely avoiding her touch.

A cold chuckle escaped my throat. I couldn't help it. The audacity of it was almost magnificent.

"Real feelings?" I asked.

Seren nodded quickly, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Yes. We didn't want to hurt you."

"Then I hope you two stay together forever," I said, leaning back against the cushions. "You deserve each other. But as of this second, you are dead to me, Seren. Don't speak to me at the academy. Don't sit at my table. I don't keep secondhand men, and I certainly don't keep secondhand friends."

Seren’s mouth fell open. "How can you be so cruel? After everything we've shared?"

"Get out," I said. "Both of you. Before I call the wardens to drag you out naked."

Dax stared at the floor, his shoulders slumping. He opened his mouth, probably to dredge up another lie, when a sound cut through the room.

*Knock. Knock. Knock.*

Three heavy raps echoed against the heavy wood of the front door. Steady. Unrushed. Like knuckles striking reinforced wood.

Dax jerked as if an arrow had struck him between the shoulder blades.

All the blood left his face. His skin turned a sickly gray. He backed away from the front door on his hands and knees, staring at the entryway with raw terror.

I frowned, watching his reaction. "Who is that?"

Dax didn't answer. His lips parted, trembling so hard he could barely shape words. Three nights ago at the underground den, trying to clear his debt with a tall man in a dark leather duster, he had offered something up.

He had sold my schedule. The exact hour I returned from the academy. And the strange, unearthly scent that clung to my skin whenever the moon reached its peak—a scent Dax couldn't explain, but someone in the undercity was willing to pay a fortune to track.

"Don't open it," Dax squeaked, his voice barely a rasp. "Elowen, don't open the door."

I looked from his trembling frame toward the reinforced apartment door.

Whoever was standing on the other side didn't knock again. They simply waited, knowing I was inside.