Chapter 51

Andrew

Here I was – pacing my damn room like a kid with ADHD. First, I threw myself on the bed, arms spread wide, staring up at the ceiling as if the cracks and shadows could spell out some divine answer for me. Nothing, just silence and my own heartbeat pounding like a war drum.

Then I was up again, restless legs carrying me in circles around the room. One lap, two laps – hell, I could’ve worn a groove into the floorboards. I stalked over to the window, shoved it open, and leaned out like the trees of the forest were about to part their branches and whisper advice into my ear. But nope, just rustling leaves and the faint scent of pine.

Next thing I knew, I was standing dead center in my room, hands on my hips, glaring at the wall that separated me from her. As if I could burn holes through the plaster, reach into her space, and somehow pry open her skull just to get one single thought out of her head. Goddess, I wanted to know what she was thinking. Was she restless like me? Did she really mean it? Was she lying on her bed, laughing at me for being such an easy target to pull at my strings?

I had no damn clue. And that was the problem – I had zero answers.

My mind kept running in circles just like my body. Was that an invitation earlier? Or was I just reading into every twitch of her lips, every flick of her eyes, every pause in the song? Did she want me in her room tonight? Or was I about to make the world’s biggest fool of myself by showing up unasked, just misunderstanding?

And then there was the other, much louder question: If I went, would it lead where I thought it would? The thought sent a jolt through my whole body, tightening my chest and setting fire to my veins. I didn’t even need the bond to know how badly I wanted her – but did I want that? With her? With Prue of all wolves?

The answer should’ve been simple. She was stubborn, mouthy, and had made it her personal mission to challenge me since the day we met. She wasn’t just anyone – she was her. The girl who got under my skin like no one else ever had. The girl who made me clench my fists in frustration one minute and made my chest ache with wanting the next. And yet…

I was so goddamn excited I was breathing hard. Excited like a teenager catching his first scent of desire, like the world had been gray and someone had just poured color into it. All from the idea – just the damn idea – that she might have invited me, without even saying a word. No batting lashes, no flirty lines, no coy hints. Just her, raw and sharp and infuriatingly irresistible.

And somehow, that silence of hers had been the se.xiest damn thing I’d ever seen.

I dragged both hands through my hair, my jaw locked so tight it ached. What the hell was I supposed to do with this? Sit here all night pretending I wasn’t thinking about her? Or take the risk, walk across that hall, and see if we could crack some walls down?

I let out a low, ragged groan that was half-laugh and half-plea for mercy, feeling my last vestiges of logical judgment fray like a rope under too much weight. Goddess help me, she was driving me insane.

I was a future Alpha, a leader of men, a guy who kept his cool in the heat of a border skirmish, yet here I was, reduced to a trembling mess by a girl who walked like she owned the gravity holding us down.

Fine, I thought, my pulse hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm. If I’m going down, I’m going down on my own terms.

I stood there, staring at the door, debating the "Plan A" and "Plan B" swirling in my mind. Plan A was the bold move: a direct challenge, an acknowledgment of the music, a confrontation that might end in a steamy make out session or even going all the way down. It was the "alpha" choice, the one that dared to believe she was actually playing the game I suspected. But Plan B – the safe, pathetic retreat – was just a knock to "discuss her schedule" or some other equally mundane stuff. A way to check the temperature without catching fire.

My feet moved before my brain finished the argument. I reached her door, my heart thudding against my ribs like a trapped bird desperate for the sky.

I knocked. Once. Twice. The sound felt deafening in the quiet hallway.

The door swung open, revealing her in the dim light of her room. She wasn't waiting in some sultry pose, wasn't bathed in neon or radiating an invitation. She was just Prue – hair a chaotic mess, wearing an oversized hoodie that probably swallowed her whole, holding a half-eaten granola bar.

She stared at me, her expression shifting from bored to utterly scathing in half a second.

"What the hell do you want now in this ungodly hour?" she drawled, the sarcasm dripping off her words like acid. Her eyes raked over me, unimpressed and sharp enough to draw blood. "Did you lose your way to the Alpha’s ego-stroking chamber, or are you just here to annoy me because your own room wasn’t quiet enough?"

My throat went bone-dry. The rehearsed lines, the "Plan A" bravado, the burning questions about the song – they all evaporated, leaving me standing there like a complete idiot. I felt the heat rise to my ears, a flush of pure, unadulterated humiliation.

"I just..." I started, my voice sounding strained and entirely too loud. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to stand tall, trying to regain some semblance of the 'Future Alpha' mask. "I wanted to check in on you… Well, my father is pestering me to keep a close eye on you."

She let out a short, hollow laugh, leaning against the doorframe with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

"Your father? You’re a terrible liar, Silverstone. You’re shaking, you’re sweating, and you look like you’re trying to solve a quadratic equation in your head. Just say what you came to say or get out of my doorway." She raised a single, arched eyebrow at me, her expression a masterclass in disdain.

As I stared at her, Prue made to close the door, and instinct surged – the raw, animal urge to reach out, to stop her, to prove that I wasn't just some pathetic drone following daddy's orders. I caught the edge of the door, my knuckles white, staring into those golden-flecked eyes that seemed to know exactly how much she was unraveling me.

"I..." My gaze flickered to her lips, then back up, my restraint hanging by a thread thinner than a spider’s silk. "I just wanted to know if you will join pack training." I spat out the words and mentally patted myself on the shoulder; that was a professional, logical topic for discussion since she came to training ground today.

"We start at 5 a.m. each morning, except Sundays, for two hours so everyone can manage their school and work schedules. Male wolves have additional afternoon training that you saw today," I added, trying to sound like a briefing officer instead of a guy losing his mind.

"No," she stated, entirely unimpressed.

"Why not?" I demanded, my defensive pride flaring. "Our trainings are excellent – we have top-tier trainers for self-defense, martial arts, gymnastics, agility, and more. The overall program is elite; it's been praised by many other pack Alphas." I boasted about our sessions as much as I could, my chest swelling with a misplaced sense of superiority.

Why was she such a snob on top of everything else? And why, in the name of the Goddess, was I desperately selling her on the idea of training here? Was I actually insane enough to want her sweating and training next to me, just so I could watch some other guy’s filthy paws spar with her? I shook my head inwardly, physically recoiling from the thought. I didn't have the mental capacity to answer those questions right now.

"I have my own program with my dad," she simply stated, her indifference like a slap.

"So what?" I countered, my irritation spiking. "You can add our morning program to your dad’s afternoon schedule." What the hell was so special about their training, anyway?

"Make a climbing wall as high as the pine trees with four levels – easy, medium, hard, and extra hard – and then I'll come to your trainings."

I frowned, caught off guard by the bizarre demand. "What's so special about climbing?"

"It trains every muscle at once," she said, giving me a look like I was the densest creature on the planet, and then she slammed the door in my face.

I stood in the silent hallway, staring at the cold, unforgiving wood. The vibration of the slam still seemed to hum in my fingers. What the actual fuck? I let out a jagged, frustrated breath. My heart was thundering from the raw, concentrated rejection from her.

I should walk away. I should go back to my room, take a freezing cold shower, and forget that this girl ever existed. But as I turned to leave, my boots felt leaden. My mind, usually a fortress of tactical planning and order, was currently a ruin of "what-ifs" and "should-haves." She hadn't just shut the door; she had closed the narrative, leaving me standing in the dark hallway like a jilted suitor.

I caught my reflection in a darkened window pane as I walked back to my room. I looked wild – my hair disheveled, my jaw tight, my eyes burning with a mixture of pure, unadulterated annoyance and a hunger I couldn't name.

A climbing wall? Was that a test, or just another way to watch me squirm? I gripped the banister, my knuckles whitening again. I was the future Alpha. I didn't take orders from lone wolves. But as I stared down the long, empty hall, the thought of that wall didn't just annoy me – it started to look like a challenge. And Goddess help me, I never walked away from a challenge.