The Roommate War.

Rebecca’s Pov

My heart drops straight down to my stomach when the university housing manager says the words that completely ruin my life.

"I am sorry, Miss Browns," the man says, looking nervously at his tablet. "There has been a massive computer glitch. Every single private suite in this building is fully booked. The only remaining luxury apartment that meets the security standards for pack heirs has already been assigned."

"Great," I snap, tapping my foot against the shiny floor. "Then just put me with my friend Seravelle. We planned this weeks ago."

"We tried," the manager stammers, wiping sweat from his forehead. "But Seravelle's room is full. The only person assigned to that last remaining apartment is... well, Alpha Davis Draven."

The world stops spinning for a second. The air completely leaves my lungs.

Davis. Draven. Sharing an apartment? Living under the exact same roof, breathing the same air, and walking down the same hallway every single day for the next few months? Absolutely not. I would rather sleep outside on the concrete grass or drop out of university right this second.

"No," I say, my voice shaking with pure panic. "No way. You cannot do this. Put me anywhere else. Put me in a storage closet! I am not rooming with him."

"I'm sorry, Rebecca, but the rules of the leadership program are strict," the manager says, crossing his arms and looking helpless. "You must stay within your designated residential complex, and Davis is already registered for that unit as the head Alpha representative. You will just have to make it work until we can fix the system."

Before I can scream, the heavy glass doors of the lobby swing open, and a cold gust of wind sweeps inside. I don't even have to look to know who it is. I can already feel the heavy, oppressive pressure in the air, mixed with the sharp scent of pine and winter frost.

Davis walks in, looking effortless and completely unbothered in a dark jacket, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. When his piercing grey eyes lock onto mine, a slow, knowing smirk spreads across his face. He already knows. Of course he knows.

"Well, well," Davis says, his deep voice smooth and dripping with amusement as he walks over to the front desk. "If it isn't my favorite person. Tell me this isn't the joke of the century."

"It's not a joke, and I'm not doing it," I hiss, turning to glare at him. "Find somewhere else to sleep, Davis. I am taking that apartment, and you can go find a tent."

"Actually," Davis says, leaning casually against the counter next to me, getting way too close for my comfort, "the manager just told me that my name is on the lease for that unit too. And as an Alpha, I always claim what is mine."

My hands curl into tight fists. Inside my chest, my traitorous wolf purrs happily at the sound of his voice, making me want to scream at both him and myself. "I will make your life a living nightmare," I whisper fiercely, glaring up into his eyes.

"I'd like to see you try," he murmurs back with a wink.

Ten minutes later, we are standing inside the luxury apartment, and it is already a war zone.

The place is huge, with a modern kitchen, a big living room, and two bedrooms down the hall. But the moment we walk through the front door, the battle begins. I don't even wait for Davis to drop his bags.

I march straight down the hallway, open the door to the larger bedroom with the big private bathroom and the massive window, and drag all my heavy suitcases right inside.

"Hey," Davis calls out, following me into the room with his hands on his hips. "What do you think you're doing? That's the master bedroom."

"And now it's my bedroom," I snap, turning around and crossing my arms. "You can take the smaller room down the hall. Consider it a punishment for existing."

Davis raises an eyebrow, a dangerous glint in his grey eyes. "I am not taking the small room, Rebecca. I need space for my gear, and besides, I got here first technically."

"You got here five minutes after me!" I shout, my temper finally snapping. "I spent the entire morning packing, traveling, and stressing out while you were probably busy looking in a mirror and admiring your own hair! This room is mine. If you try to step foot in here, I will lock the door and throw away the key."

Davis looks at me for a long moment, studying my angry face like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. Instead of yelling back, a small, irritating chuckle escapes his lips. "You know, three weeks ago you wouldn't even look me in the eye. Now you're acting like a tiny, furious cat. It's... interesting."

"I am not a cat, and I am definitely not interested in your opinions," I snap, pushing past him into the living room.

The living room is a disaster too. Davis has already thrown his expensive leather jacket over the cream-colored sofa, and his heavy boots are sitting right in the middle of the walking path. Without a second thought, I pick up his jacket, ball it up, and throw it onto the farthest chair, kicking his boots out of the way.

"Hey! Watch the leather," Davis complains, walking out of the bedroom and watching me rearrange his things. "That cost more than your entire outfit."

"Then don't leave your expensive trash in the common areas," I shoot back. "From now on, we need rules. Strict rules. Rule number one: you stay out of my space. Rule number two: we split the kitchen schedule evenly, and you are not allowed to touch my food. Rule number three: bathroom times are locked in stone. And rule number four: we never, under any circumstances, talk to each other unless it is an absolute emergency."

Davis leans against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches me pace back and forth. The way he is looking at me—so calm, so relaxed, while my blood is boiling—makes me want to pull my hair out.

"And what about the thermostat?" he asks smoothly. "Because I like it cold, and I know you'll probably try to turn it into a tropical rainforest."

"I like it at a normal temperature, not an ice cave like your frozen heart!" I yell.

We argue back and forth for another hour over trash duty, grocery shopping, and kitchen counter space, neither of us willing to give an inch. By the time midnight rolls around, my throat is sore from shouting, and my head is pounding with a vicious migraine.

I stomp down the hallway, march into my stolen bedroom, and slam the heavy wooden door shut behind me. I twist the lock with a loud click, letting out a massive breath of relief. Thank goodness. Finally, I am away from him. I can put on my pajamas, climb into the soft bed, and pretend that the most annoying man in the world isn't living ten feet away from me.

I pull off my shoes, toss my bag onto the floor, and walk over to the window to look out at the city lights. I survived the first day. I can handle this. I just have to ignore him completely.

Knock. Knock.

Two sharp raps echo against my bedroom door, making me jump.

Before I can even process it, Davis’s deep, rich voice filters through the wood from the other side, calm and entirely too close.

"Rebecca," he says, and I can practically picture the annoying smirk on his face. "Open up. We forgot to discuss one very important rule."