The Alpha's Undoing

Nate had not expected to wake up in the middle of a forest the morning after his twenty-first birthday.

He groaned and rolled onto his back, feeling the damp dirt cool his skin. When he eventually pushed himself up, dirt stuck to his palms and trousers, and his head throbbed like it had been struck against a wall.

“Where the hell am I?”

His hazel eyes darted throughout the clearing. The forest spread endlessly in all directions, with dense pines, tangled underbrush, and shafts of early dawn light shining through the canopy. Birds chirped too happily overhead, and the morning dew carried the cloying sweetness of wildflowers, a scent so intense it turned his stomach.

None of this made sense. He should’ve been waking up in his dorm bed, hungover maybe, not sprawled on the ground like some discarded body.

“What the hell happened last night?” Nate muttered, rubbing his temples. His brain felt like static as he tried to remember how he got here.

It had been his twenty-first birthday, and he’d planned to spend it low-key, maybe a drink or two with the tiny circle of friends he had. But Liam persistent dragged him to a party on the edge of campus.

The night had started normal enough: cheap booze, sweaty bodies pressed together as they moved to the beat of the song the DJ was playing. He’d loosened up after a few shots, even found himself dancing, laughing more than usual. He remembered flirting with a hot science major, her perfume sharp against the haze of alcohol… and then somehow stumbling into the forest.

After that? Nothing. Just a blank space.

“Great. Real great,” Nate muttered, pushing through the trees until campus finally came into view. His head pounded with every step.

Back in his dorm room, relief hit him when he felt his phone in his pocket. At least he hadn’t lost it in the woods. Maybe he’d just… passed out out there? Embarrassing, but survivable.

Then he saw the screen. Twenty missed calls. Dozens of messages, all from Liam.

“Where the hell are you, man? You’re fucking missing—Miller’s stoned and stripping naked!”

“Answer your phone! I’ve called you like twenty times!”

“You better have a good reason for ghosting me.”

“Are you busy screwing Sydney? Is that why you’re ignoring me? At least text so I know you’re alive.”

“Fucking CALL ME, Nate.”

Nate groaned and tossed the phone onto the bed. He’d deal with Liam later. Thank God his first class wasn’t until the afternoon he needed the extra time to pull himself together.

“Fuck, my head is killing me,” he grumbled, snatching the Tylenol bottle from his desk. He popped two tablets, swallowing dry, then flopped into his chair.

That’s when he froze.

He could hear his next-door neighbor. Not talking, not playing music, no. He could hear the guy opening his closet.

Through the wall.

Nate sat perfectly still, breath caught in his throat.

That… wasn’t normal.

Nate blinked hard, pressing his palms to his ears. No way. He must’ve imagined it.

But then came the creak again—hinges groaning, metal hangers clinking. Clear as if the guy were standing right beside him.

Nate’s skin prickled.

“Adrenaline,” he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud would make it true. “Body’s still freaking out from last night. Heightened awareness, sensory overload—like, uh, post-party hypervigilance. That’s a thing, right?”

It sounded ridiculous even to him, but he clung to the theory anyway.

“I probably just need a shower and a nap,” Nate muttered. “Last night must’ve fried my brain.”

He dragged himself into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and splashed cold water on his face until his skin stung. When he finally lifted his gaze, his reflection stared back at him from the mirror pale, shadow-eyed, like someone had run him over with a truck and then backed up for good measure.

His hazel eyes looked dull with exhaustion, though Nate wouldn’t call himself bad-looking. Not at all. His body was on the lean side, thanks to years of swimming and the occasional half-assed gym session. His black hair, usually a mess, still held the faint shape of last night’s style ;half tied back, the rest falling in loose waves.

He cupped another handful of water and splashed it across his cheeks, but the jolt of cold only pulled his mind deeper into what happened last night. The forest.

And then—

Golden eyes.

Sharp. Predatory. Glowing in the dark like headlights. He remembered them staring straight at him. The flash of movement. Something lunging, teeth sinking into his neck.

Nate gasped, hands flying instinctively to his throat. His fingers brushed skin smooth. No wound. No scar. But his body swore it remembered the pain, white-hot and searing.

He stumbled back from the sink, shaking his head. “Nope. No way. I definitely need that nap.”

He turned off the light, refusing to look in the mirror again.

*

*

The nap didn’t help. Not even close. Nate woke up with his skull pounding like a jackhammer. His eyes throbbed, every flicker of light stabbing deeper, and his ears… God, his ears wouldn’t stop picking up everything. Doors slamming down the hall. Someone’s phone vibrating two rooms over. 

Everything felt like it was in overdrive.

He dragged himself out of the dorm anyway, determined to just survive the day.

“Where in Hades’ balls were you last night?”

Nate nearly jumped out of his skin. Liam was suddenly in front of him, brows arched, dark eyes narrowed like he’d been waiting all morning to interrogate him.

“Jesus, Liam,” Nate groaned, clutching his head. “Can you keep your voice down? My head’s splitting in half.”

“Well, you look like shit, my brother,” Liam deadpanned, spinning his lip ring with his tongue. He was dressed in his usual aesthetic;black baggy jeans cuffed just enough to show off expensive boots, a white tank that clung to a lean, toned frame, and his signature leather jacket slung effortlessly over his shoulders. His dark brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, making him look like he belonged more at the front of a magazine than in a college classroom.

“How much did you drink? And did you leave the party early? I looked everywhere for you, but you were just gone.” He gestured wildly, frustration flickering across his face. “If you didn’t want to go, you could’ve said something. I would’ve stayed with—”

“No.” Nate cut him off, too fast. He winced and pressed his fingers to his temples. “It’s not that. I just… wasn’t feeling well, so I went back to my dorm and crashed. Slept straight through.”

The lie slipped off his tongue with all the grace of a brick.

Liam stared at him. Not buying it, but not calling him out either. He just sighed, shoved his hands into his pockets, and smirked.

“Fine. But you’re explaining later. For now, let’s get to class before today drains what’s left of my soul.”

Before Nate could protest, Liam slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him toward their first lecture of the day

*

*

Nate still didn’t know why he bothered showing up to class.

He rubbed at his temple, trying to focus.

Come on, Nate. It’s just one lecture. You’re not dying.

But the longer he sat there, the worse it got. Scents kept bombarding him cologne, deodorant, body spray. Someone was wearing something so aggressively citrusy it burned his nose. 

Nate shifted in his seat, glaring at the window. Maybe he should just leave, crawl back to his dorm, and sleep this off. Nothing the professor was saying was even registering. It all sounded like warped audio in his head, words sliding around and slipping out of meaning.

“Bro,” Liam’s voice drawled beside him, pulling Nate from his murder fantasy. “You look like you’re either constipated or plotting world domination.”

“Headache,” Nate muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “I swear I’m never drinking again. Consider me a born-again abstainer.”

Liam barked a laugh, loud enough to earn both of them a scowl from the professor. Nate slouched lower in his seat, wishing he could disappear.

The bell finally rang, and Nate didn’t just leave class ;he escaped. He bolted from the lecture hall before Liam could get a single word out. He needed air. He needed silence. Hell, maybe he needed a hospital. Whatever was happening to him wasn’t normal.

His head throbbed, his senses screamed, and every step felt like he was walking through a dream

Which was probably why he wasn’t paying attention to where the hell he was going.

One second, he was speed-walking down the hall, the next—bam. He slammed into something solid. So solid it nearly knocked him flat on his ass. The breath whooshed out of his lungs in one humiliating gust.

Nate staggered, wincing, and looked down.

Combat boots. Big, black, and planted firmly in his path.

Okay. Weird. Last he checked, walls didn’t wear shoes.

Slowly, cautiously, he tilted his head back, eyes trailing upward over long legs, a broad chest, and finally landing on the coldest pair of eyes he’d ever seen.

Ice-blue. Unblinking. Staring down at him with a dangerous glint

Kieran Drew.

The last person on campus Nate had ever wanted to run into