Alpha Bully: Wolf Ridge High, Book 1

by Rose, Renee

  The words are kind. Probably what I’ve been wanting to hear, but somehow they don’t strike me as sincere. There’s something off, but I’m not sure what. Like he’s trying to manipulate me for something.

  But that doesn’t make sense.

  “Honestly, sometimes I wonder if the families in Wolf Ridge are in some kind of closed religious community. Mormons, maybe,” Brumgard says.

  I shoot him a dubious look, thinking of Cole’s dad with a beer bottle in his hand every time I see him. “With most of the population employed by a brewery? Definitely not.” Mormons don’t drink.

  “Well, some kind of cult, then.”

  Huh. A cult.

  The town doesn’t strike me as particularly religious, but there is something cultish about it. Goosebumps race up my arms.

  Could that be why I’m such an outsider here? I’m not part of their cult?

  But what kind of cult could it be? Sports-worship?

  I make a non-committal sound.

  “Anyway, I’d like you to brainstorm a list of articles you want to run in the first edition of the paper, and write them on the board. We can go over them together and then I’ll assign them to the class tomorrow.”

  I get up from my seat, happy to no longer be so close to Brumgard. I already had ideas for articles, although I don’t know if I can come up with thirty-some different ideas for each kid in class.

  I pick up a dry-erase marker and start putting my ideas up. I brainstorm a “teacher of the week” quiz featuring a different teacher without revealing his or her identity. Students can turn in their answers for a chance to win a prize. Coverage of all the sports. Those should be easy, and in fact, could take up most of the newspaper if I can’t come up with other ideas. Features on clubs. News reporting on upcoming or past events like the homecoming royalty, the dance this weekend, all that.

  I keep at it for forty-five minutes, filling the board with my ideas. When I run out of steam, Brumgard swivels in his chair and looks it over. “Come on over here and tell me about each of those,” he says, beckoning me toward him.

  Later I would wonder why I was so stupid. I registered the warning signs on some level, but didn’t bring them into my consciousness.

  I trot obediently over to him and stand beside his chair as I verbally walk him through my thought process on each article.

  And that’s when it happens.

  It’s so unexpected, I almost can’t assimilate it at first.

  Mr. Brumgard’s hand slides up my inner thigh.

  I freeze. Ice and fire rush through me at once. My stomach hurls into my ribs, trapping my breath.

  Later I would wish I’d done a million things.

  Gone kung fu on his ass. Stepped quickly back. Throat-punched him. Yelled, get your fucking hands off me!

  But I don’t do any of them.

  I just stay frozen as his sweaty palm moves higher until it meets my crotch and he rubs his fingers over my panties.

  And then my brain completely disconnects. I’m at total odds with what should be happening and what is actually happening. The room spins.

  I’m going to puke.

  When his fingers prod under my panties, I stiffen up like a board.

  Blackness creeps in around my vision as it narrows to a single spot on the desk.

  * * *

  Cole

  After practice, I throw my gym bag and backpack in the truck. Casey isn’t around, she texted me she has a group project she’s working on with Stacy, but there’s a prickle on the back of my neck like I need to be aware of something.

  Wolf sense coming through.

  I sniff the air.

  Nothing.

  I look back at the school. The light’s still on in Brumgard’s room.

  Fucking Bailey. She’s in there playing teacher’s pet, working on her precious newspaper project. Am I getting prickly because she’s turning me in for cheating?

  Never one to miss an opportunity to throw her off balance, I slam the truck door and head back to the school. Brumgard told me to stop by and pick up my graded papers to rewrite them, so I have a perfect excuse to show up, anyway.

  Most of the outside doors are locked now, but I find an open one and jog through the halls, a sense of urgency pushing me forward.

  When I open the door to the classroom, I’m totally unprepared for what I see.

  Actually, scent comes first: The salty smell of tears and behind it—fear. Shame. Anger.

  Next, sight. Brumgard has his hand up Bailey’s skirt. Pink appears frozen in shock. She’s white as a ghost and looks like she’s about to vomit.

  And that’s when I lose my shit. I hurtle across the room, closing the distance between me and him.

  One punch—shifter strength—and his head snaps back, blood spurts from his nose. The chair he sat on flies back and hits the wall with Brumgard still in it.

  I go in for more. I’m ready to kill the fucker, but Bailey wakes up from her stupor, grabs her backpack and tears out of the room.

  “Bailey!” I shout.

  I’m torn between the need to punish this asshole adult who touched her—fucking touched her against her will—and wanting to follow Bailey and make sure she’s okay.

  I point a damning finger at Brumgard. “You ever fucking touch her or another student, and you’re a dead man. Understand?”

  Our teacher makes some kind of moaning sound from where he’s crumpled on the floor, blood streaming from his face. I don’t think his neck is broken, but I definitely hit him hard enough it could’ve happened. He’s lucky he’s alive. He’s lucky I’m letting him live.

  I back out of the room and run.

  There’s no sign of Bailey in either direction.

  Fuck!

  I take the first exit and scan the parking lot. I still don’t see her. Jogging to the truck, I jump in and start it, then take off to loop around the school.

  There I see her in the back, running.

  I screech the tires pulling up next to her. “Bailey! Get in the truck.”

  She ignores me. She’s sobbing so hard as she runs I’m surprised she can even see where she’s going.

  I reach across and throw the passenger door open as I step on the gas to keep pace with her. “Bailey, hold up! Get in the truck, I’ll drive you home.”

  “Leave me alone!”

  I throw the truck in neutral and pull on the parking brake, then jump out my side. I catch her from behind as she stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk and lift her feet off the ground. She goes wild in my arms, punching and kicking.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Bailey.”

  “Shut up, Cole.”

  “I’ll shut up. You get in the fucking truck.” I infuse my words with alpha command, even though she’s not a shifter.

  On some level, humans relate to it.

  It works.

  She stops struggling and dashes the back of her hand across her eyes. “Fine.” If I were less disturbed about what just went down, I would celebrate that little victory. Same as I celebrated her showing me her quiz today.

  She surrenders to me despite her better judgment.

  I stay close behind her in case she decides to bolt again, but she climbs in and slams the door, then stares straight ahead.

  I get back in and throw the truck in gear. Now what? I hadn’t thought further than getting to Bailey.

  The principal is gone for the day. We could go back and talk to him tomorrow. But this can’t wait.

  I ease my foot off the clutch and get on the road.

  “You okay?” It’s a dumb question. Of course she’s not okay.

  “Peachy,” she snaps.

  I rub the back of my neck. She’s definitely not. I scent shame and fear on her.

  “Don't feel ashamed.” I say it like a command, not a suggestion. Make my voice firm. “You didn't do anything wrong. You know that, right?"

  She’s silent for a moment. “I feel so fucking dirty.” Her voice is full of tears again.

 
; “Yeah, well you’re not. He is.” I shut up after that, though. She doesn’t need to talk to me. She needs a friend.

  Still, I’m unwilling to let her out of my sight until we’ve had a conversation.

  Plus, Brumgard needs to be thrown out of this town on his ass. I pull up in front of the sheriff’s office and Pink stiffens.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “We’re going to go in there and tell them what happened and you’re going to press charges.”

  She shakes her head; tears start making silent trails down her cheeks again.

  Fuck. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.

  “Why not?”

  She strangles the strap of her backpack with her hand. “I’m not up for this. I just need to think. I want to go home.”

  Shit. This isn’t right. Brumgard needs to be stopped. If he tried this with Pink, he’s probably done it before and will do it again.

  “You can’t let him get away with this, Bailey. Taking him down is the right thing to do. And it will be so easy. You had a witness. How many girls can say that? It will be an easy conviction.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but I scent her resistance and despair like burnt rubber. I don’t like being the cause of that scent.

  “You’re not in this alone. I’d be a part of it the whole way through. I’ll tell the story. All you have to do is press charges.”

  “I can’t, Cole. I mean I’ll think about it. I know you’re right, but I just can’t face this right now. I’m already the weird girl at school. I can’t take any more negative attention.”

  Fuck. That part is my fault.

  I curse and put the truck back in gear. Ultimately, it’s her call.

  I can’t take her home, though. Instead, I drive around to the back side of the mesa, to a place I like to go when I need to get away. And I figure Pink needs to think right now.

  I pull down the dirt road and park in a long-forgotten parking lot overgrown with creosote.

  “Where are we?”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” For a moment, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake bringing her here. She just got blindsided by a teacher’s sexual advances, I don’t want her to think I have something nefarious in mind, too. But I don’t scent fear from her.

  Still, I don’t breathe until she swings the door open and hops out.

  Her face softens as she looks around. “What is this place?”

  We duck through a continuous archway formed by at least a dozen out-of-control palo verde trees and emerge in the clearing framed on one side by a fifty foot canyon wall.

  “What is this place?” There’s awe in her tone.

  The bones of a stone building that once served as a picnic ramada stand off to one side, the roof long since caved in or removed. The giant picnic table is still inside, though, gouged by at least a hundred sets of initials carved in the thick, smooth wood.

  I don’t know what I love so much about this place. The archeology of a modern ruin, I guess. The way it’s hidden back in here under the giant cottonwoods and overgrown mesquite and palo verde. The way it’s protected by the secret canyon.

  No humans come here anymore. It doesn’t show up on any map. Alpha Green somehow arranged for the pack to buy this park from the city of Wolf Ridge years ago.

  “Was it a playground?” She takes in the old rusty swing set, merry-go-round and teeter totter.

  “Yep. An old one. Hasn’t been used since the 70s. I don’t know why they didn’t remove the equipment. It’s probably uber-dangerous.” I plunk down on one of the swings to prove how much I love danger.

  She sits on the one beside me and pushes with her feet to make it sway.

  I climb off mine and grab her waist, pulling her back. “Maybe they didn’t have these things in Colorado.” I speak slowly, like I’m explaining something profound. “But you actually swing with them.” I push her hips, sending her sailing high into the air.

  She shrieks a little, but laughs. “Jesus, you’re strong.”

  Oops. I make a note to dial back the shifter strength.

  Nah, fuck it. Why not show off a little?

  I push her again, sending the chains of the swing so high they’re parallel to the ground.

  She screams when she catches a little air before falling back into the seat.

  I chuckle.

  We stay like that for a while—me pushing, her soaring through the air, hanging on to the swing for dear life. I didn’t think this through, but now that we’re here, I’m glad. It feels right.

  After a while, I stop pushing and let the momentum die.

  I stroll over to the merry-go-round. “Ever been on one of these?”

  She shakes her head.

  “I’m not surprised. They outlawed them long before we were born. Way too dangerous. And all of this shit made out of metal? I bet a whole lot of kids in the 70s were covered in third degree burns in the summer.”

  “Oh my God, you’re right. It’s way too hot in Arizona for metal equipment.” She hops off the swing and comes toward me.

  I hold out my hand and help her onto the wobbly metal saucer. “Ready?”

  “I doubt it,” she says, but a smile plays around her lips. I’m so fucking relieved to see it there, I just smile back.

  I’ve forgotten all the animosity between us. My need to punish her. It’s not that I still don’t want to master her—I do.

  It’s more that I want her whole when I succeed.

  “Hang on,” I warn before giving the handlebars a shove. The equipment is rusty, so it takes me a while to get it going, but once I do, I put a little shifter strength into it and the wheel flies around.

  Bailey screams, her long dark hair flying around her face, her eyes wide.

  I want to kiss her.

  I won’t. Not today. Definitely not after what she’s been through. But I want to own that pouty mouth. Want to taste those lips, shove my tongue deep and make her take it the way I want to give it.

  But with her fucking consent.

  My fists tighten thinking about Brumgard again. I’m already regretting not killing him.

  “Let me off, let me off,” Pink wails and I slap the bars to slow them down, then grab one and jog around with it until it stops. Bailey holds her belly like she’s going to barf.

  “Sorry. Too much?” I put a hand on her back. I literally feel the shiver run through her. Or maybe that was the sparks that came through in my hand.

  I’m suddenly acutely aware of everything Bailey: her hitched breath, her cinnamon and honey scent, the strands of hair flying across her face.

  I smooth them back and she stares up at me. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  I crash into the vulnerability in her eyes. Something shifts in my chest. Guilt, perhaps—I don’t know. Maybe something else. I drown in her warm brown gaze, studying the golden and green flecks. I have to look away. “I don’t know.”

  It’s an honest answer. I really can’t explain why I flipped from tormentor to protector in the blink of an eye. And I know it won’t last. I’ll take her home and tomorrow we’ll wake up enemies again.

  And I’m not going to admit that’s part of why I haven’t taken her home yet.

  I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Listen. What happened back at the school”—I pull one hand out and jerk my thumb in the direction of Wolf Ridge High—“is your thing. I won’t talk about it unless you ask me. Whatever you want to do with it is fine.”

  “Thanks.” I hear relief in her voice, and I know I said the right thing.

  “I’ll be a witness if you want to press charges. If you want to go to Mr. Olsen and get him fired. Otherwise, I won’t tell a soul. If you don’t want your shit dragged all over this town, I get that, too.”

  Her eyes get wet again. When a tear escapes and hops down her cheek, I brush it away with my fingertips.

  “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide it, though. You may think you’re a victim, but you hold all the p
ower now.”

  Her energy quiets. I swear I feel her shaking off the victim cloak right there. “What do you mean?”

  I unleash a wicked smile. “I mean,” I say slowly, the glory of revenge gleaming bright for me. “If you don’t go to the authorities, you own Brumgard. You can ditch every class for the rest of the year and insist he give you an A and he’ll do it. Make him write your college essays for you. Make him nominate you for end of the year awards.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s what you would do if you were me.”

  My smile grows bigger. “Definitely. And it’s what you should do. Of course, it’ll suck for me when you’re not in class to help me with the quizzes. I never said thanks, by the way.”

  Her eyebrows pop and then she blushes.

  I fucking love when she blushes. I flip back into tormentor mode as quickly as that. I reach out and finger her earlobe, stroking the little flap softly.

  She jerks her head away. “Fuck you, Cole.”

  “Oh, I’m planning on it, Pink,” I say in a low and seductive voice.

  Blushing deeper, she shoves at my chest and turns to walk swiftly back to the truck.

  Chuckling, I follow.

  She hops in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. As if that will protect her from me.

  I get in the truck and start it up. “I will say this, though, Pink.”

  She turns at the business-like tone of my voice. I like that she already gets me—when I’m serious, when I’m dicking with her.

  “One word to any parent in Wolf Ridge and a posse of dads will go down to the school and literally kick Brumgard’s ass and then get him thrown out of the school. I guarantee you that. So I’m just saying—it’s on the table, if that’s what you want.”

  I speak with total certainty. Bailey may not be pack, but she’s a kid at our school. Every father in Wolf Ridge would realize it could’ve been their pup who was assaulted, and they would be out for blood. Brumgard may be a human, but they’d make him pay, anyway. And I guarantee Alpha Green would turn a blind eye to every pack rule that goes against.

  Bailey rubs her tattoo—the one I want to know more about. “Okay, good to know.”

  “You want me to get it rolling? I’ll do it.”

  “No.” She shakes her head, still staring at her ink. “I don’t know. I just need some time to think things over. I just want to keep it between us for now.” She shrugs.