Page 11 of The Alpha Under My Bed

Her lips parted slightly.

She was excited.

Too excited.

My grip tightened around the bottle, but I forced a smile and leaned back against the counter. “Something good?”

She glanced at me, her fingers hovering over the screen. “A 99% match.”

I hummed, tilting my head. “With a pack?”

She nodded, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s one of my highest scores.”

I knew that.

Because I checked.

I always checked. It didn’t matter that she used private settings. Didn’t matter that she thought her results were hers alone.

I knew the second her tests processed. I knew who the system thought was right for her. And I knew exactly how to make sure they never got close enough to prove it.

She turned the screen toward me, showing me their names. Their faces.

Idiots.

I took another sip, rolling the bottle between my fingers.

“You should be careful with these things, sweetheart.” My voice was light, easy, the same steady tone she knew. “Not everyone has good intentions.”

Her brows pulled together slightly, her smile dimming just a little. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

I reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger for just a second longer than necessary.

I felt the way her breath caught. Felt the way her pulse stuttered against my fingertips.

She dropped her gaze, focusing on the phone again. “They seem nice.”

I smiled. “I’m sure they do.”

They were dead by midnight.

The first one went quick.

The second one put up a fight.

But the third?

The third begged.

I watched him collapse, his body crumpling into the filth of the alleyway. Blood seeped from the gash in his throat, poolingbeneath his cheek, dark and glistening against the grime. His lips trembled, shaping words he no longer had the breath to speak. His fingers twitched—a feeble, desperate attempt to press against the wound, as if sheer willpower could keep the life from spilling out of him.

It never worked.

I stood over him, tilting my head, watching. Waiting. My breath remained steady, my fingers flexing against the hilt of the knife.

Then, at last, the light in his eyes flickered... and died.

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