The Bully Alpha’s Redemption

Scarlet Black

Scarlet



The soft hum of the kettle was the only sound in our small kitchen as the first rays of sunlight poured through the curtains. My mom was at the stove, her auburn hair pulled into a messy bun, humming an old tune as she stirred the pot of oatmeal.

My dad sat at the head of the table, his glasses perched low on his nose as he scanned the morning newspaper. His salt-and-pepper hair gave him an air of wisdom, the ever-present warmth in his eyes went with his gentle nature. He had already spread the bacon and eggs on the table which he claims to be an expert at cooking.

This was my favorite part of the day.

The air smelled like cinnamon and coffee, and the faint creak of the wooden floors under my chair felt like home. Here, I wasn’t the girl everyone whispered about. I wasn’t Scarlet, Redville High’s redheaded pariah, or the Mooncrest pack's unwanted omega. I was just…me.

“Scarlett, can you grab the honey from the pantry?” Mom asked, turning to me with a warm smile.

I hopped up, the chair scraping lightly against the floor, and fetched the jar. Placing it on the table, I sat back down and picked at the edges of my notebook, doodling absentmindedly on the cover as Mom ladled oatmeal into three bowls.

“Big plans for today?” Dad asked, peering at me over his glasses.

“Same as always,” I replied, shrugging. “School, come home, and maybe take a walk in the woods later.”

Dad chuckled, the sound rich and comforting. “You make high school sound like a battlefield.”

“That’s because it is,” I muttered under my breath.

Mom slid a bowl in front of me, her brows furrowing. “Scarlet…”

“I know, I know.” I sighed, stabbing at the oatmeal with my spoon. “Ignore them, rise above it, don’t stoop to their level.”

“It’s not fair,” Dad said softly, his smile fading. “What they put you through—what they’ve put us through—it’s not fair. But you’re stronger than them. They see that, even if they don’t admit it. Never forget, this is our home and we have every right to be here.”

My parent only know that I am ignored and isolated because of our family background and I wish that was the truth, it isn’t even half of it. But they already have too much to worry about, I am not going to add another thing to the pile.

His words were meant to comfort me, but the knot in my chest tightened. I hated that my parents carried this guilt, this weight of being outsiders in the pack. They’d sacrificed so much for people who turned their backs on them.

“Anyway,” Mom said, changing the subject with forced cheerfulness, “you’re meeting Mia and Luke after school, right?”

“Yea, but they are coming home for it,” I said, brightening slightly at the mention of my friends. “We’re working on that history project. You know, the one about the town’s founding?”

“Ah, the good old Silver Hollow myths,” Dad said with a twinkle in his eye. “Make sure to include the part about the haunted well. That one’s my favorite.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “I think we’re sticking to facts, Dad.”

“Boring,” he teased, earning a laugh from Mom. “Also, I have that job interview today, so I will head there directly after school and then meet Mia and Luke.”

As the conversation turned to lighter topics, I let myself relax. These moments reminded me that no matter how cruel the outside world could be, I had this—my parents, our cozy little house, the love that wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

The walk to school was uneventful, the crisp autumn air biting at my cheeks. Redwood High loomed ahead, its metal gate, brick walls, and towering windows looking more like a prison than a place of learning.

Inside, the hallways buzzed with the usual chaos—lockers slamming, laughter echoing, voices rising in animated conversations. I ducked my head, weaving through the crowd, hoping to make it to my locker unnoticed.

No such luck.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the little omega,” a voice drawled behind me.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The mocking tone, the smug edge—it could only belong to Damien Vanderwood.

I bit back a sigh, gripping the strap of my bag tighter as I continued walking.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, Red,” he said, stepping in front of me and blocking my path.

Damien was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that always seemed perfectly tousled and piercing gray eyes that could probably make half the school swoon—if he wasn’t such a complete jerk. He smirked down at me, his presence commanding attention even in a crowded hallway.

“What do you want, Damien?” I asked, keeping my voice steady all while thinking when did I lose my friend? Damien and I used to be close friends in middle school but that was until he didn’t believe in hierarchy. Now, he is like everybody else who thinks I am beneath them.

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to see how my favorite omega is doing this fine morning.”

Laughter rippled through the small group of his friends who had gathered behind him. They were all pack members, of course, and they reveled in the hierarchy that placed me firmly at the bottom.

“Great,” I said flatly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

I tried to sidestep him, but he shifted, blocking me again.

“Come on, Scarlet,” he said, his tone mocking. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Friendly. Right. Damien’s version of “friendly” usually involved public humiliation or some clever insult designed to remind me of my place.

“Leave her alone, Damien,” a voice called from behind me.

I turned to see Mia and Luke approaching, both glaring at Damien. Mia was tiny but fierce, with curly brown hair and sharp green eyes that practically burned with defiance. Luke, tall and lanky with a mop of sandy blonde hair, stood beside her, his hands clenched into fists.

“Aw, how cute,” Damien said, his smirk widening. “The human brigade coming to save their damsel in distress.” Oh, yes our town was an anomaly in the supernatural world. Everyone knows about the truth and well there aren’t many humans in the town anyway, but they aren’t much respected either like me.

“Oh, there is no damsel here, beast.”I spat at him. “Don’t you have your father’s bidding to do instead of bothering a nobody like me, huh?”

Damien’s gaze flicked to me, his smirk faltering for just a second before it was back. “Watch it, Red. Don’t want to hurt that pretty little head of yours with so much anger. Catch you later.” he said, stepping aside with a mocking bow.

As he walked away, his friends trailing after him, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“God, he’s such a—” Mia began, but I cut her off with a shake of my head.

“Let’s just go,” I said quietly, not wanting to dwell on the encounter any longer.

Lunch was the one part of the school day I actually looked forward to. Sitting with Mia and Luke in our usual corner of the cafeteria felt like a small rebellion against the pack dynamics that ruled the rest of my life as they were humans and only once who liked to hang with me and vice versa.

“Okay, but seriously,” Mia said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin, “you should’ve seen the look on Damien’s face when you called him out. It was priceless.”

Luke chuckled. “Yeah, I thought his head was going to explode.”

I smiled faintly, stirring the straw in my soda. “Guys, this is my fight. I don’t want you to get in the middle of it.”

“Of course we do,” Mia said, her tone firm. “You’re our friend. Besides, someone has to put those egomaniacs in his place.”

I appreciated their loyalty more than I could put into words. Mia and Luke didn’t care about pack politics or social hierarchies because a, they were humans, and b, they come from humble backgrounds so they kind of get what I am suffering here.

To them, I was just Scarlet—not an omega, not a freak, just me.

“Anyway,” Mia continued, waving a hand dismissively, “enough about those idiots. Did you finish your sketch for the history project?”

“I did,” I said, pulling my notebook from my bag and flipping to the page. It was a detailed drawing of the town square, complete with the old fountain and the weathered statues that had stood there for centuries.

“Whoa,” Luke said, leaning in for a closer look. “You’re seriously talented, Scarlett.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a flush of pride.

Mia grinned. “One day, you’re going to be a famous artist, and we’ll be like, ‘We knew her when.’”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think sketching old fountains is going to make me famous.”

“You never know,” Luke said. “Every artist starts somewhere.”

Their encouragement warmed my heart, and for a moment, I forgot about the pack, the bullying, and everything else that made high school miserable.

The final bell rang, signaling the end of the day. I gathered my things, eager to escape the school and retreat into the comfort of the woods.

As I walked to my locker, I heard Damien’s voice again, low and taunting.

“Heading home already, Red?”

I ignored him, focusing on spinning the combination lock.

“Don’t tell me you’re running off to cry to Mommy and Daddy,” he continued. “Or are you going to the woods to play pretend Alpha again?”

That made me pause. How did he know about that?

I turned to face him, my eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Damien smirked, leaning casually against the lockers. “Oh, come on. Did you really think no one noticed you sneaking off all the time? What are you doing out there, Scarlet? Practicing howling at the moon?”

I clenched my fists, the heat rising in my cheeks.

“Leave me alone, Damien,” I said, my voice steady despite the anger bubbling inside me.

He stepped closer, his gray eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in them—curiosity, maybe, or something darker.

“Make me,” he said softly, his smirk twisting into a challenge.

I held his gaze, refusing to back down. And then, just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. Damien straightened, his smirk fading into something unreadable.

“See you around, Red,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away.

I watched him go, my heart pounding for reasons I couldn’t explain.

Damien Vanderwood was the bane of my existence and was my sworn arch-nemesis who I like to stay away from but I don’t why something tells me, this was going to change.

Okay, right now I don’t have time for any of this. I had a job interview and though I am not excited about where it is it is important for my college interview.

I sat stiffly in the sleek leather chair, clutching the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles turned white. The lobby of Vanderwood Industries screamed wealth—glass walls reflecting the city outside, floors so polished they could double as mirrors, and employees who looked like they had stepped off the pages of a business magazine.

I didn’t belong here.

But I needed this.

This internship wasn’t just a line for my college application; it was a chance to prove to myself—and everyone else—that I was more than the pack’s punching bag. Sure, it wasn’t ideal that this company was one of the countless ventures owned by the Vanderwoods.

But realistically, Damien Vanderwood or his family wouldn’t bother with a place like this personally. People like them didn’t get their hands dirty with the day-to-day grind of their empire.

So I told myself I was safe.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. 4:25. Five minutes until my interview. I adjusted my shirt and took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Just focus on the goal, Scarlett. You’ve got this.

“Miss Blackwood?”

The receptionist’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. She gave me a polite smile, though something about her expression shifted when our eyes met—like she recognized who I was.

“You can go in now. Third door on the left.”

I nodded, standing quickly and smoothing my hair as I made my way down the hall. The polished floors amplified the sound of my footsteps, each step echoing louder than I’d like.

My heart thudded harder with every step, and when I reached the frosted glass door, I paused. Just for a second. I wasn’t nervous about the interview itself—I could handle that.

I inhaled deeply and turned the handle. Here goes nothing.

The door swung open, and I stepped inside with a practiced smile on my face—one that immediately faltered when I saw him.

Sitting at the head of the long glass table, leaning back like he owned not just the room but the whole building, was

Damien Vanderwood.