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Alpha Knight

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Blurb

SHE’S GETTING A FAKE BOYFRIEND--ME.

WHETHER SHE LIKES IT OR NOT.

The leggy car thief is trouble with a capital T.

My brother went down because of her

I need to find him before the cops do,

which means I’m not letting her out of my sight.

Anywhere the human goes, I go.

I’ll play her fake boyfriend.

Sleep in her bedroom.

Go to her prep school classes.

Take her to the homecoming dance.

I will learn all her secrets, find out all her games.

By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be sorry.

Sorry she ever set foot in our shop.

Sorry she ever met me.

Sorry she made me fall for her.

NOTE: This book contains mild bully or teen enemies-to-lovers, academy romance themes.

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Prologue
Prologue Bo On the day everything goes to s**t, you don’t wake up thinking, Today my whole life changes. It wasn’t like that the day the two service members showed up at our door when I was eight to give my mom the news Dad’s helicopter got shot down in Yemen. And it wasn’t like that today. Today was like any day. I woke up, showered, went to school, stayed after for football practice, same as ever. I never expected the screech of tires as Sheriff Gleason skids to a stop in the parking lot by the field. Didn’t foresee him marching out with his hands on his hips like he’s about to arrest one of us. Coach Jamison jogs over to meet him on the edge, his body rigid with alert. And then they both turn their heads and look at me. “Fenton!” Coach’s voice booms. His alpha wolf authority ripples through me, all the way to my shoes. Fuck. What did I do? I whip off my helmet and stalk over like I’m pissed about the interruption, but it’s just my wolf rearing up to face perceived danger. There’s no flight in the fight or flight for an alpha male—especially not in a teen wolf who doesn’t always have aggression under control. “Get it the car,” Sheriff Gleason snarls. “Why?” I demand. Coach’s hand drops on my nape, above the shoulder pads. His fingers tighten in warning. If it were anyone else, I’d already have him on his f*****g back, but Coach is like a god to us. A better father figure than most of us have and always, always in our corner. I turn to look at him searchingly. “It’s Winslow,” he says because he’s not a d**k like the sheriff, keeping me in the dark. Winslow—my older brother. “Fuck.” Coach doesn’t call me on the language violation, which tells me this is as bad as I’m thinking. And then I know exactly what it’s about. Or at least I think I do. Because I saw this s**t coming way back when it started. The only question is, what do they want from me?

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