Chapter 6

Prue

It was a bright, sunny day – exactly the kind that begged to be enjoyed outside. But my girls were holed up in the library, studying for an upcoming test like responsible little nerds. I didn’t want to waste my lunch break buried in textbooks, so I grabbed my sandwich and headed out, eager to let the sun kiss my cheeks for a while.

I scanned the yard for a decent spot and spotted a long bench with a perfect view of the campus. It looked peaceful. Ideal. I made my way there and settled in with a satisfied sigh, unwrapping my sandwich.

Peace, however, is apparently too much to ask for.

"Move."

The voice snapped through the air like a whip. Low, sharp, arrogant. The kind that’s used to being obeyed without question.

I didn't even glance up. But the wind carried his scent my way, and I instantly knew who it was: that hot-headed young Alpha. The stench of entitlement practically followed him like a shadow. I kept munching my sandwich, pretending I didn’t hear as I had no idea who he was talking to, and I didn’t want to get into his business. We agreed with my dad that I'd play low with weres.

"Are you deaf? I said – MOVE!"

Now he was yelling. Great. I slowly turned my head, one brow raised in genuine surprise, curious to see who he was yelling at. If he was picking on someone weaker, I might have to step in. Alpha or not, I don’t tolerate bullies. He was glaring directly at me.

I looked behind me, just in case he was talking to someone else. Nope. Empty. I turned back and furrowed my eyebrows.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked, utterly incredulous.

“Yes! Are you stupid? I said – move.”

He spoke like the world owed him something. I blinked slowly, unimpressed.

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my bench.”

I looked around again for dramatic effect. “Your bench? Is your name engraved somewhere on it?”

“I don’t need it engraved. I sit here – therefore, it’s mine.”

“Wow. That’s some solid logic,” I deadpanned. “At least ten people can sit on this bench. Chill, would you?”

“I won’t. Last chance – move. The fu.ck. Away.”

I blinked up at him, now halfway amused. “Are you mental?”

In the blink of an eye, he was looming over me. The sudden movement was meant to intimidate, but it only made me roll my eyes.

“What did you call me, sl.ut?” he hissed.

Oh, no, he didn’t. I looked him straight in the eye, my tone icy and bored.

“Oh, please. Judging by your face and the way you walk, you’ve probably fu.cked half the female population already. If anyone here’s the slut, it’s definitely you.”

He growled, breathing so heavy I wondered if he needed a paper bag. I was itching to offer it to him, but refrained (for Dad’s sake) and took another bite of my sandwich instead. Delicious.

“Meanwhile, my pu.ssy? Spotless. Haven’t even let a single di.ck near it,” I said, slowly. It wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t have to know it. “So kindly back. the hell. up. Before I catch something just from being near your Manwh.oring Higness.”

I waved him off like an annoying fly.

“Shut up, you bi.tch!”

Oh, I love it when they call me names. His face is turning red – he's losing control. I half expected his head to explode like in those old cartoons. Beautiful. I smirked. I’m savoring every second of it. Satisfaction blooms in my chest, curling my lips into a wicked smile.

“You have no idea what kind of bi.tch I am.”

And that’s when I let the act sink in. My smile widened into something evil. I could feel the shift under my skin – the transformation into her. The mean girl. The savage. The psycho. It was a character I wore like a second skin, one I performed with perfection. The real me? Somewhere in between, loyal, a little sweet, even. But they didn’t need to see that. Not yet.

“So, before I bi.tch-slap your arrogant as.s into next week, I suggest you crawl out of my space,” I added sweetly, “because right now, you’re hovering like a cheap cologne – loud, annoying, and impossible to ignore.”

I liked to punch the male egos, but this one – he will get it only if there is any intelligence in his power-hungry reptile brain.

“Don’t threaten me, bi.tch!”

Two guys approached him from behind. I clocked them instantly – one with long blond hair, the other dark and stocky. Backup, huh?

“What’s up, Alpha?” Blondie asked.

Pissing him off is fun though risky. I’m sorry, Dad, he started first.

“Oh look,” I said to them, gesturing toward their Alpha, “some loyal lapdogs have arrived.”

They blinked at me, clearly confused by the insult.

“This guy here,” I pointed dramatically at the Alpha, “is clenching so hard it’s like he’s got a cactus crammed in his boxers, so he decided to bring the trauma to my side of the bench. Guys, help a girl out here and do me a favor – pull the attitude and the spikes out of the boy.”

I asked sweetly. I emphasized the word boy – meant to shrink that Alpha bravado. Just a classic trick in the powerplay handbook. Brown-hair snorted. The Alpha didn’t like that. He smacked the guy in the chest – hard.

“Ow,” the guy winced, rubbing his chest.

“Moody much?” I said. “Like a girl on her period. Wait, wait – did you get your gender reassigned and forget to remove the uterus? That would explain so much. I have a tampon in my bag, want me to fetch one?”

Blondie struggled not to laugh. Even Brownie’s lips twitched. The Alpha, however, was vibrating with rage.

“I am a man. I have a di.ck, you stupid rat!”

I widened my eyes theatrically. “Oh wow, a di.ck? I guess congratulations are in order – pity it didn’t come with the manual on how to be a man.”

I glared at him hard truly pissed off now.

“Now that I think of it, having equipment without the software update – like decency, respect, basic emotional regulation – is a very broken thing. Something that calls for therapy,”

I’m not sure why, but guys absolutely lose their minds the moment you suggest they might need a shrink. Why is that? I genuinely don’t get it – therapy is one of the best things that can happen to a person. And yes, I can raise my hand and say, Amen to that, because I’m speaking from personal experience.

His eye twitched. Jaw clenched. Hands curled into fists.

“Bingo. Jackpot-level trauma, just as I suspected. Now I wonder whether we have a winner in the daddy issues lottery.” I muttered unimpressed without giving him time to respond.

“Let’s start to ask questions. How often does your daddy beat you to a pulp?” I added, eyes gleaming. “Let me guess – every time you act like a little disappointment?”

His eyes darkened further. I was digging into the nerve now, scraping bone.

“How often does he remind you that you’ll never be good enough to lead a pack?”

His fists were so tight, claws extended, drawing blood. A single crimson drop hit the ground.

“You know nothing about my relationship with my father,” he hissed.

I shrugged. “Not yet. That’s why I’m asking. Please – enlighten me.”

His friends looked visibly uncomfortable. Jackpot number two.

“SHUT UP, MUTT!” he screamed. “Or I will make your life a living hell!”

That earned him my most wicked, venom-laced smile yet.

“Well, guess what?” I said, voice soft and dangerous. “I’m the bi.tch who came from hell. So before you try sending me back, ask yourself – what if I’m the one who will make your life a miserable, painful, never-ending nightmare?”

He was trembling with rage like a volcano moments before eruption.

“You’re a psycho!” he spat but reigned in.

“And you’re only just figuring that out?” I said with a wicked grin. “Cute.”

In my mind, I imagined torturing him in creative ways – cutting his muscles clean off with a silver blade while he screamed. Of course, I’d never actually do it. But the thought of it gave me just the right energy to play this role to perfection. Somehow, people could feel it – even if they didn’t know what I was imagining. That energy creeped them out. Made their skin crawl. And that’s when they usually backed off.

“Leave her alone, Alpha. We’ve got other stuff to do,” Blondie finally said, giving me a weird look, clearly trying to de-escalate.

I beamed at him. “Good boy.”

Then I turned back to the Alpha with a flick of my wrist. “You heard your lapdogs. Off you go, Alpha.”

He growled one last time, low and furious. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh, I sincerely hope not. You’re such fun to talk to,” I said, air-quoting the word “fun” as I shooed him away again.

“If I ever catch you alone on the streets, you pathetic, lone wolf, you're dead meat.” He spat and stormed off, radiating fury.

Empty threats, I don't believe a word. I let out a sigh, my shoulders sinking with it.

God, I love lunchtime.

As the situation sank in, I began to wonder – why had he suddenly singled me out? I’ve been living here quietly for a month now. The weres usually ignored me after catching my scent – just another lone wolf, uninteresting, untouchable. They avoided my kind the same way they steered clear of rogues. So why now? Why did he suddenly acknowledge my presence? A mystery. But do I even want to solve it?