The Traitor Alpha's Daughter

The New Kid From the Bronx

Alina's POV

I really hate English class.

There are a lot of reasons for that. One is that the teacher, Mr. Evans, is as creepy as it gets. I can feel him staring down my shirt every time he walks down the aisle between desks, and eyeing me from his desk the rest of the time. Doesn’t actually help with my grades, though; I’m still barely passing.

It’s not just that, though. It’s that I don’t get poetry, or literature, or any of that nonsense. Math, science—that all make sense to me. But art, music—things that are subjective?

Don’t get me wrong—I can appreciate a good song or painting. I just don’t understand why it needs to be a class subject. These things should be up to the viewer’s discretion.

Anyway, Monday starts simple enough—just another, boring day at Winder High School in Mr. Evans’ first period, senior English class.

At least, until the new kid walks in.

He’s tall, ripped, and undeniably hot. Six feet, two inches of muscle, bronze hair, green eyes, and quite the jawline. Leather jacket, white tee, combat boots—pretty much the “bad boy” uniform.

He smells nice, too—sort of like the forest. Fresh wood and dewy leaves. But I digress.

“You must be Wren,” says Mr. Evans to the boy. “You’re late.”

Wren doesn’t look particularly concerned or embarrassed. “Got lost. Sorry, teach.”

Mr. Evans scowls at that. “Well, you’re here now. Class, this is Wren Davis, the new kid from the Bronx. Wren, this is most of your senior class.”

If I didn’t mention this already, we’re a very small class in a very small, Southern town. If this guy is from New York, he’s in for a rude awakening.

“Take a seat next to Alina,” Mr. Evans continues, sending me another of his signature creepy glances. “You can be her partner for today’s assignment.”

Great—just what I needed. The first new kid in a decade, drop-dead gorgeous, and my partner.

I know what you’re thinking—Why is that a bad thing, Alina?

Well, it has to do with my extremely possessive boyfriend, who has eyes and ears all over this damn school. But we’ll get to that later.

“Hey,” Wren says to me as he takes his seat next to me. “What’s the assignment?”

“Haikus,” I say shortly.

He snorts. “Haikus? In the twelfth grade?”

Oh, good—a city snob. “Sorry, did you expect us to be reading Dostoyevsky? You know where you are, right?”

Winder isn’t just a small town; it’s an ass-backwards town. Our values are skewed, to say the least. The emphasis is put much less on education and much more on...

Well, we’ll get to that later, too. But suffice it to say the word “paranormal” will be used.

“I don’t know much about Winder,” Wren admits. “We came here because my mom got a job at the museum.”

I try not to grimace at that. Our museum is certainly renowned, but I try to avoid it. The things it’s famous for are, well, a little personal for me.

“Get out while you can,” I warn him. “You’re better off in the Bronx. Winder is a joke.”

He stares at me for a second, then laughs. “That was your haiku,” he realizes. “Nice.”

I muster a bit of a grin, vaguely impressed he caught on. “Thanks.”

“I can’t go back there. I wish things were different, but alas, they aren’t.”

His own haiku—not bad. I nod in approval. “Sorry to hear that. At least you’re a senior, though. Only have to deal with these people for a short while, and then you can get out.”

He frowns, though I’m not sure why. “Maybe.”

I glance to my other side, where my best friend, Alice, is eyeing me suspiciously. Be careful, I can almost hear her saying. You don’t know who’s watching.

I do know who’s watching, of course; I can feel the eyes of at least two of Noah’s trusted subordinates on me. But I appreciate the reminder, anyway.

“What’s your name?” Wren asks me.

“Her name is Alina,” says Marc Taylor from the seat behind us. “And if you’re smart, you’ll stop talking to her right about now.”

I try not to groan too obviously; if you didn’t guess it, Marc is one of the aforementioned “trusted subordinates” of my boyfriend Noah’s. “Marc,” I warn. “He was just being polite.”

“You serious, man?” Wren asks Marc. He glances at me. “He your boyfriend, or something?”

I roll my eyes. “No. Just ignore him.”

“Bad advice, Alina,” growls Brett, the other aforementioned lackey. “You’d better watch it. You’re on thin ice already.”

Thank God, the bell rings before either of them can embarrass me further.

“Miss Marks,” Mr. Evans shouts as everyone rises and gathers their belongings. “A moment, please.”

This ought to be good.

I avoid Wren’s confused gaze, along with Alice’s pitying one and Marc and Brett’s accusatory ones, as I gather my things and trudge to the front of the class.

Mr. Evans doesn’t say anything for several minutes. He waits for their rest of the class to funnel out, then strides over to the door, closes it, and returns to his chair.

Not a good sign, I think as I steal a reluctant glance through the small window in the door. Alice is there, and Wren, too. Both must be wondering what this is about.

“Come over here,” says Mr. Evans, beckoning me to his side of the desk—the side you can’t see from the window.

I swallow dryly as I make my way over to Mr. Evans.

“You’re nearly failing, Alina,” he tells me. “You know that, right?”

I nod mechanically. “I know.”

“Your father would be so disappointed in you. You know that, too, don’t you?”

Of course, I do. My father would be disappointed in me for a thousand different reasons—pretty much every single aspect of my life these days. Including the fact that I’m about to be sexually harassed by his old hunting buddy.

His eyes trail up my body and settle on my neck. He rises from his seat to come unnervingly close to me, then reaches out to touch it. When he speaks, he’s got his wolf-voice on. “Still unmarked,” he growls.

“Still seventeen,” I growl back. What is he thinking? Mr. Evans has been creepy with me before, but never this bad. He wouldn’t dare pull this back at the compound. “Mr. Evans, please—”

“His reign won’t last forever,” he interrupts. He steps even closer to me, pressing a knee between my legs. “And when he falls from grace, if you’re attached to him, you’ll fall, too.”

He’s talking about Noah, of course. Warning me against mating with him.

It’s really fun, being the disgraced daughter of the fallen, traitor Alpha. Everyone disrespects you so much, they think they can say whatever they want to you with no repercussions. If not for the fact that I'm dating their Alpha, they'd probably all do whatever they want to me with no repercussions, too.

Which is exactly why I'm still with Noah, despite the way he treats me.

“Just fail me,” I growl at Mr. Evans, shoving him off me with enough force to send him stumbling. “I don’t care.”

I find myself caring about very little these days, if I’m being honest.