Ellie Parkinson and The Realm of Evil

I never wanted to live in a house that smelled like power.

The Alpha’s house sat at the end of a long driveway lined with tall trees, the kind that made everything feel watched. My mother had been smiling since we turned onto the road, her hand resting lightly on my knee like she needed the contact to stay calm. I kept my eyes on the window and said nothing.

“It’s going to be different this time, Phyna,” she said softly. “Safer. Better.”

I didn’t answer. Different never meant better for people like me.

The front door opened before we even reached it. A tall man with silver at his temples stepped out—my new stepfather, Alpha of this pack. He greeted my mother with a warm smile and a brief kiss on the cheek, then turned to me with a polite nod.

“Welcome, Phyna.”

I forced a small smile and followed them inside.

The house was large, polished, and quiet in a way that felt intentional. Pack houses always carried a certain weight, but this one pressed harder against my skin. My Beta instincts stayed sharp, reading every corner, every scent. There was dominance here. Strong, settled, and very much alive.

I was halfway up the stairs with my suitcase when a door somewhere down the hall opened.

I froze.

A boy stepped out—no, not a boy. A young man. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair still damp from a shower, wearing a black T-shirt that clung to his chest. He looked like he belonged on the cover of every magazine the girls at school whispered about. Sharp jaw. Lazy confidence. Eyes the color of dark honey that landed on me and didn’t move.

Tristan.

I knew the name before anyone said it. My mother had mentioned him once, carefully, like she was testing how I would react. The Alpha’s only son. The most popular guy at school. The future Alpha.

My stepbrother.

He stopped a few feet away, one hand still on the doorframe. His gaze moved over me slowly, openly, like he was deciding something. The air between us thickened. My wolf stirred under my skin, restless and confused.

I gripped the handle of my suitcase tighter.

“You must be Phyna,” he said. His voice was low, smooth, and far too calm.

I nodded once. “Yes.”

He didn’t smile. He just kept looking at me, head tilted slightly, as if he was listening to something only he could hear. My heartbeat kicked harder. I hated that he could probably sense it.

“I’m Tristan.”

“I know.”

A faint smirk touched the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those stayed locked on mine, sharp and assessing.

My mother called from downstairs, breaking the silence. Tristan’s attention flicked away for half a second, then returned to me.

“Your room is the last one on the left,” he said. “Try not to get lost.”

I didn’t answer. I simply turned and walked the rest of the way down the hall, feeling his stare follow me the entire time. Only when I closed the bedroom door behind me did I let out the breath I had been holding.

I pressed my back against the wood and closed my eyes.

This was a mistake.

I had spent years staying quiet, staying small, staying out of the way of stronger wolves. I knew how packs worked. I knew what happened to Betas who drew the wrong kind of attention. And Tristan already looked at me like I was something he planned to keep.

I opened my eyes and stared at the unfamiliar room—soft gray walls, large window, a bed that looked too neat. My suitcase sat at my feet like a reminder that I no longer had a place that was truly mine.

Tomorrow I would start school here.

Tomorrow the entire pack would see me walking the same halls as their future Alpha.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed my hands together to stop them from shaking.

I would stay invisible.

I would keep my distance.

I would not become a problem.

I had no idea that by the end of the next day, Tristan would have already decided I belonged to him.