ALEX POV
“If it isn’t the wolf-less freak.”
Damien Blackthorn’s voice cut through the emptying locker room like a blade, low and mocking, dripping with that smug alpha arrogance that made my stomach twist every time I heard it.
I froze, hand still on my locker door.
He stepped into view, six-foot-five of pure, sculpted menace. Broad shoulders, thick arms crossed over a chest that strained his black t-shirt, dark jeans slung low on narrow hips. His black hair was messy from the post-gym shower, still damp at the ends, and those sharp amber eyes were locked on me like I was prey that had wandered too close to the wolf.
Behind him, his usual pack of minions, three other alphas, all smirking, all too eager to follow their future leader, fanned out, blocking any easy escape.
I adjusted my
