Chapter 36

Prue

I twirled in front of the mirror, watching the skirt flare and settle, trying to see myself from every possible angle. The dress wasn’t sunshine-bright yellow, not the kind of color that screamed look at me, but it was soft, warm, almost gentle. My dad had bought it for me. That alone should have been reason enough to wear it.

And… I did look good in it. That much I couldn’t deny. Which was exactly why my thoughts betrayed me and drifted – completely uninvited – to Alpha boy: Andrew. To the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he would like it too.

I groaned quietly at my reflection. I know, I know. Pathetic.

He had been nice. Twice. Barely. And here I was already spiraling, dressing up like a fool, acting as if two decent moments erased weeks of tension, irritation, and that constant undercurrent of war between us. Maybe I really was dumb for doing something nice for him so quickly.

I blamed the bond – fully, entirely. Not the typical female thinking, thank you very much. This wasn’t me being soft or hopeful. This was biology, destiny, cosmic interference – anything except my own damn heart.

Still… at the end of the day, weren’t we all the same? We wanted to be wanted, seen, appreciated. Loved, even if we pretended we didn’t. And no matter how sharp my tongue was or how high I stacked my walls, I wasn’t immune to that.

That realization hit harder than I liked. Disappointment bloomed in my chest – not at him, but at myself. After years of teaching other girls what to do and not to do until the guy has taken you to at least ten good dates, paid for food, bought flowers and gifts, geniunely been interested in you and not bragged about himself all the time.

Why was I even considering this? I had never dressed for a guy. Ever. I dressed for me, for comfort, for confidence, for my own reflection. So why should I start now? Why should Andrew be the exception?

My spiteful side stirred, stretching like a cat waking up from a nap: good, familiar, safe. I glanced at the clock and cursed under my breath. Great, I was almost late.

I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and muttered to myself that I was wearing the dress because of Dad. Daddy dear. His gift and is thoughtfulness, not because of Andrew. Not at all. Even if that was a half-lie.

I closed the door behind me and rushed toward the stairs when a low growl stopped me cold. My body reacted before my brain did.

I spun on my heels.

“What are you wearing?”

Andrew stood a few steps behind me, eyes dark, posture tense, voice sharp with unmistakable anger.

For half a second – just half – I almost said it. Something for you. The words hovered on my tongue, traitorous and stupid. But my mind raced ahead, tripping over itself. I wanted to do something nice for him. And he was angry?

“A dress?” I replied lamely, hating how unarmed I sounded.

His gaze snapped to mine, then dragged slowly down my body, lingering in places that made my skin prickle – not in a good way this time. When his eyes returned to my face, they were hard.

“It’s more like a see-through curtain than a piece of clothing.”

The words hit like a slap, making me stiffen.

“What are your intentions?” he continued, voice dripping with mockery. “Seduce every single boy at school while parading your white panties on display?”

There it was: open ridicule and judgment. Control, thinly veiled as concern.

“Go and change.”

The command barked out of him like it was instinct, like I was already expected to obey.

My arms crossed over my chest on reflex, not to hide myself, but to hold myself together. So here I was. Du.mb little me. The girl who thought – just for a moment – that maybe the dou.che of an Alpha had changed. That maybe he was capable of being decent. That maybe I should give him a chance.

Classic mistake. Glorify the tiny good signs. Ignore the giant red flags waving violently in your face. Wow. And even I fell for that?

The disappointment burned, sharp and humiliating. I wasn’t angry yet. I was worse than that – I was ashamed. Ashamed that I’d hoped. Ashamed that I’d softened. Ashamed that I’d let the bond blur my judgment.

He wasn’t different. I was just stupid.

He was being a piece of a di.ck: plain and simple. No hidden layers, no misunderstood intentions, just narcsistic control and contempt wrapped in Alpha authority.

And suddenly, I had nothing to say. No snarky comeback. No clever insult. No fire. Just this thick, ugly feeling sitting in my chest.

“Watch me.”

The words slipped out on autopilot, flat and dangerous.

Then I turned and stormed down the stairs before he could say anything else.

The car door was open, Beta was already in the back seat. I didn’t slow down. I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him forward.

“Hey – what was that for?” he protested, completely confused.

I didn’t answer.

I slid into his seat next to Delta and slammed the door hard enough to make the car shake.

“You can sit in the front with your beloved Alpha,” I snapped, teeth clenched. Yes, I was back to their titles, because they were just a cozy bunch of friends – the Dream Team, I thought mockingly.

Beta’s shoulders slumped as he processed what just happened. He sighed, shaking his head as he moved.

“What did he do now?” he asked quietly, disappointment lacing every word.

“Just being his regular as.s-self,” I shot back.

Andrew came into view, rounding the car with rigid movements. He got behind the wheel, jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

Good. Let him be angry. Because this time, I wasn’t the one who should be ashamed, oh, no!

Andrew

I rushed after her fueled by pure, blinding anger, the kind that makes your vision narrow and your thoughts stupid, until she stepped outside and daylight hit her dress properly, fully, mercilessly – and I saw it wasn’t see-through anymore. Not even close. The realization slapped me harder than anything she could have said, and I stopped dead in my tracks, breath catching as my brain scrambled backward through the last few minutes like a security tape I didn’t want to watch. Gods, I had been a possessive douche over something I didn’t even have the right to call mine, barking orders and assumptions like I owned her body, her choices, her intent, when in reality all I owned in that moment was my temper.

But then her door slammed. Then I saw my Beta’s shoulders slump in the driveway, heard that tired, familiar murmur of “what did he do now?”, and of course – of fu.cking course – there it was again, her favorite little dagger slipped between my ribs with a smile: Alpha boy. That name always sounded like mockery and distance wrapped together, and suddenly all my self-reflection curdled back into irritation. So I was the villain here? She was the wounded party? Nice narrative. Real convenient.

Ten minutes passed with all of us trapped in the tight silence of the car, the air thick and stale, like anger had weight and was pressing down on my lungs, when something shifted without warning.

From her spiteful stare out the window, Prue turned toward Greg like nothing had happened and said, casually, lightly, “What’s your I*******m?” while already pulling out her phone. Greg mirrored her without hesitation, exchanging usernames like it was the most natural thing in the world. I caught John pulling his phone out too, already searching – traitor – and felt a bitter twist settle low in my gut. Apparently no one was on my side these days.

“Yesterday I saw this hilarious video…” Prue started with a small chuckle, and I hated how instantly my anger dropped a notch just from the sound of it. How did she do that? How did she manage to drag me from ice-cold cool to burning heat of furry to something almost tolerable in the span of ten minutes? It usually took me hours, sometimes half a day, to climb down from my anger once it took hold. Apparently all it took was her voice and the sight of her relaxed, laughing, unfazed by me.

“Yeah, this one – check it out,” she said, leaning closer to Greg as they watched something on his phone, laughing openly now.

“Right? This one’s so good,” she added, replaying it.

“Hey, send that to me too,” John complained immediately, like the golden retriever he was, always needing to be included, always allergic to being left out.

“Sure,” Prue said easily, thumbs flying over her screen.

So that was it – best buddies already. Sharing memes, videos, inside jokes – all while I sat there watching from the outside, irritation sharpening again because I knew da.mn well I’d put myself there. My Beta and Delta had told me more than once that my views on lone wolves were outdated, rigid, inherited baggage I refused to unpack, but letting go of them felt like betraying my grandparents, like erasing something foundational even if it no longer fit the world I was living in.

“Oh, and I love this stand-up comedian,” Prue said next, and within seconds both Greg and John were watching the same clip out of sync, the same monologue funky playing in the car.

“The best part of falling in love is the beginning, when you’re both pretending to be normal people. Six months later you’re arguing about dishes like it’s a court case, and suddenly you’re thinking, wow, I used to have hobbies.” the guy shared.

“I’ve seen a few of his other sketches,” Greg added, laughing.

“Love is telling someone ‘be yourself’ and then getting mad when they actually do.” the comedian continued.

I surprised myself by smiling at one of the jokes – sharp, uncomfortably accurate about relationships – because the best jokes always had truth buried in them, and that was what made them sting and land at the same time.

I knew the day was going to be a nightmare the moment I parked at school.

She walked across the grass like she wasn’t aware of the effect she had, sunlight catching in her hair and dress, and every guy within eyesight glanced, then stared, then outright turned their heads as she passed. Something ugly and territorial rose in my chest, a need to glue myself to her side, to make it clear she wasn’t available for appraisal, that anyone who looked too long would earn a death glare they wouldn’t forget.

But I couldn’t. Our schedules were completely different, pulling us apart the second we stepped onto campus.

I watched her disappear into the crowd, already laughing with someone else, and leaned back against the steering wheel, jaw clenched, the weight of my own mistakes pressing in.

Fu.ck me and my life.