The Alpha's Hardest Game
He was a prisoner in a student’s skin.
Though he walked with his chin high, his broad shoulders squared in open defiance, the True Alpha aura radiating from him was heavy, suffocating, and deeply scarred by the violence of the past days. He wore a dark, heavy hoodie, but as he adjusted the strap of his backpack, the fabric of his sleeve slid back slightly. Avery caught a glimpse of the raw, blistered skin wrapping around his thick wrist—the distinct, ugly chemical burns left behind by the silver shackles in the King's subterranean compound.