Page 3 of Step Alpha

For some reason, I get nothing from my wolf. No guidance whatsoever. And he’s the dickwad who warned me. So that must mean…he wanted me to get caught.

And then I get it. This is revenge on my dad.

I fuck up my football career, his pride suffers.

It’s payback for what he did to my rep the day he decided to marry that defective little runt’s mom.

The day he made Rayne the Runt my new stepsister.

And that’s why I say and do nothing when they handcuff me, read me my rights, and take me to jail.

* * *

Rayne

I strut around my new bedroom–the space still very much inhabited by the energy of my dickwad stepbrother–in a brand-new pair of Manolo Blahnik stilettos.

I’m barely five feet tall in a pair of thick-soled sneakers, but I know how to walk in heels. Not because there’s ever an opportunity for a seventeen-year-old outcast in a small Arizona town to dress up and go out.

Nope. This is an at-home-only activity. Supposedly, there’s only one way out of Wolf Ridge after high school, and that’s a sports scholarship. Considering I’m the runt of the pack with no athletic abilities whatsoever, I had to find a different way.

Academic scholarships are out. No one from Wolf Ridge High ever gets much of a merit-based scholarship because our school sucks. I mean, my human friend Bailey got one, but she also transferred into WRH her senior year, so she had all kinds of AP classes and accolades before she ever moved here.

I make a circuit around the room and survey my image on the computer screen. I’m in a black lacy bra and panty set with an unbuttoned flannel shirt thrown over the top to keep me warm. The shoes are shiny black patent leather. They pinch my toes, but I look amazing in them if I do say so myself.

No, I’m not joining a beauty pageant.

I’m selling videos of my feet on the internet. Men who are into feet pay for videos like this. One such man bought these shoes for me. I have five other pairs hidden in my closet. All I have to do is make a video every day to post to the viewers on my OnlyFans and Patreon accounts, and the money pours in.

Lotsof money. I made two thousand dollars last month, and I’ve only been at this since July.

Yes, I know it might be illegal. I’m not entirely sure. I’m under eighteen, so it might be considered child pornography. Then again, it’s just feet. So…? I think it’s fine. Obviously, I don’t want anyone who knows me to find out, but it’s definitely a risk worth taking.

If I can increase my income to three or four thousand a month, I’ll have enough to go to ASU next fall. I’ve already been accepted and offered a partial tuition scholarship. Don’t be impressed–they have to accept any Arizona student with a 3.0 or better GPA, and the scholarships are automatic based on GPA. Even so, the room and board costs a fortune–way more than my mom could ever afford. Plus, I have a C in Calculus right now, which if I don’t fix, could ruin everything.

And there’s no chance I would ask or expect Logan, my new stepdad, to pay my way.

He probably could afford it, but I think we’re already supposed to be grateful that he even agreed to marry my mom after he found out he knocked her up.

I angle the laptop screen down, so it only shows me from the waist down and hit record. Then I strut back and forth in the shoes. “What do you think of my new shoes, gentlemen?” I ask in my most sultry voice. “Are these sexy? If you want to see something different, just send me the shoes in a size 6 to the post office box address at the bottom of the page.”

I stop and pose. Do my awkward version of sexy legs, sliding one toe up behind my calf and down again. Posing with one foot out to the side. Turning around and taking a wide stance then bending over with my hands sliding down my thighs.

My dark blonde hair falls over my shoulders.

I stopped bleaching it to platinum and have grown it out into soft layers that fall to my shoulders. Not for the videos–I never show my face or hair. My mom asked me to. I guess we’re supposed to look more presentable as new members of the Woodward family.

As if anything could ever change our status in the pack.

But since my defective genes make me the primary cause of our low status, I could hardly refuse. I mean, I want to refuse. I want to rebel and tell the whole town to fuck off. But my unborn sibling deserves to have his or her father around. My mom deserves to not be a single parent this time around.

So sacrifices had to be made.

I grudgingly made myself more presentable. We moved into Logan Woodward’s house. That would’ve been okay. He’s a pompous dick but not unkind to me. It would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for his son Wilde–one of the biggest alpha-holes Wolf Ridge High has ever seen.

Fortunately, he’s off playing football on scholarship at Duke.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t make my life miserable the second he’s back in town. I mean,I moved into his bedroom.

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