All Chapters of Taming the Dangerous Alpha: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The pale gray morning light filtered through the blinds, sliced into narrow bars that stretched across the greasy cafeteria table. The meal on the tray before me had gone completely cold—congealed, dull, lifeless. It resembled my memory of last night: still present, but numb, stripped of warmth.Two pairs of eyes were fixed on me with surgical precision, left to right: Melissa. Evelyn.They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their silence had angles—sharp ones—that felt capable of cutting into skin.There was no hiding now.Ever since the humiliating, chaotic moment that shattered my night, I knew this confrontation was inevitable. I’d treated the aftermath like I’d treat a makeshift wound: silence as bandage, avoidance as tape. No calls answered, no messages opened. I drifted through school corridors like a distorted shadow, quick enough to be missed, faint enough not to provoke questions. But all of that only delayed the unavoidable.And the unavoidable was now sitting right across

The thing I appreciate most about Bella & Bread is its comfortable distance from Cormac High. Hardly any students come here, which means I can temporarily shed the version of myself known as “Sarah”—no roles to play, no eyes tracking my every move. Just breathing. Just working.Mrs. Bella is from the same generation as my grandmother, and her son was my father’s closest friend back in high school. So rather than an employer, she feels more like a family friend who has watched me grow up. She was the first person willing to offer me a job, even though I didn’t truly need the paycheck. I stayed because of that kindness, and she became one of the steady, warm coordinates by which I navigate my world.The bakery blends the charm of old-fashioned décor with modern warmth. It’s spacious, lined inside and out with tables where customers can pause and rest. Every pastry resting under the velvety display lights has passed through Mrs. Bella’s hands—or her approval, at least. Baking is her pass

“I think you claim to hate him because, subconsciously, you’re drawn to him—and you haven’t realized it yet. The fact that he’s close to other girls is what actually bothers you.”Like him? Like Fitch? Absolutely not.“That theory is ridiculous,” I said, certain I felt nothing for him.“Who knows? But I have another guess—”I nodded, mentally preparing a hundred reasons to justify my dislike of Fitch Jones.“I think you need to think carefully—really carefully—about whether you truly hate him, or if it’s just self-protection.”Evelyn was getting way too philosophical. How could I ever like Fitch Jones? Please. At best, I thought he wasn’t completely terrible.

He walked in with the kind of ease that made it look like he owned the place, heading straight for the corner booth—the one I had never once served. He didn’t even glance in my direction.I let out a quiet sigh. So much for thinking this was my chance… I never imagined there would come a day when I actually hoped for an excuse to talk to Fitch.Fiona straightened her apron and uniform, tugging her top lower and pulling her skirt higher to show off every curve, every inch of long leg. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her cast a look toward Fitch—the kind of look that made her intentions painfully obvious. And sure, I got it. Fitch did have that dangerous sort of allure. But that didn’t make her theatrics any less ridiculous.She must’ve sensed my silent judgment, because she spun around to glare daggers at me.Then she sauntered toward Fitch’s booth, hips swaying so dramatically I wondered how her spine survived it. If I tried to walk like that, I would definitely end up kissing

Suddenly, I didn’t want to go to Evelyn’s house anymore. It was supposed to be my safe haven, untouched and untainted. I didn’t want it stained by anything else—not tonight.I wanted to go home. I wanted to cry—really cry—because no matter how I tried to rationalize it, Fitch’s words had cut far deeper than I cared to admit.Damn it. This was the absolute worst.It seemed that driving Fitch out of my world wouldn’t be as easy as I’d hoped. I loathed him because he could uncover parts of me I tried so desperately to keep buried—weaknesses I didn’t even want to face myself. I prided myself on emotional control, on refusing to back down. And yet, in front of him, all my defenses crumbled like wet sand.It wasn’t that I needed control over others; I simply refused to expose my own fragility. I didn’t want to give anyone the chance to manipulate me or glimpse the cracks beneath the surface.In truth, I feared being breakable. Once someone saw the fractures in my armor, it was only a matte