The Alphas Sister (Complete)

Chapter Ten: Cracks and Kisses

I felt bad about it, skirting Electra all night like she was a live wire I couldn't touch, but I'd pulled it off. 

The party hummed along, Tobin's twenty-fifth birthday a cosy glow of string lights and laughter in the pack house's main hall. I stuck to the fringes, nursing a beer, making small talk with packmates, Shauna ribbing me about my cooking the other day, her hazel eyes glinting with mischief, Lila asking about patrol schedules I wasn't even on anymore, her quiet voice barely cutting through the chatter. 

Their words blurred into a comforting drone, but my eyes kept darting to Electra, green sweater hugging her frame, loose waves of hair catching the firelight, her laugh slicing through the noise like a bell. Every time she drifted near, I moved, grabbing a venison slider from the table, stepping out to the porch for a gulp of crisp night air, weaving through the crowd to keep a wall of bodies between us. 

Matt kept me company by the back door, a beer in hand, trading stories about dumb hunts and pranks, steering clear of the forest mess he'd witnessed. By midnight, exhaustion hit, the buzz of the party fading as I slipped upstairs, the creak of my bed a relief as I crashed, her shadow lingering in my mind despite my efforts to shove it out.

A shrill blare of my alarm yanked me from a restless doze, a piercing beep-beep-beep that jolted me awake. I groaned, flailing an arm to slap it silent, the clock glowing 8:00 AM, anger management day, right on schedule. 

The room was dim, grey light seeping through the blinds, the air stale with last night's tension. I rolled out of bed, the hardwood cold under my bare feet, and shuffled to pull on jeans and a faded tee, the fabric rough against my skin. My black hair hung shaggy over my eyes, and I shoved it back, too bleary for a mirror as I trudged downstairs, boots thudding on the steps.

Dr. Ellis's office was the same lavender-scented nook off the main hall, bookshelves sagging with worn spines, her desk cluttered with papers and a chipped mug that read World's Best Listener in faded red letters. 

She sat in her armchair, silver-streaked auburn hair pulled into a loose bun, her hazel eyes warm but sharp as she greeted me with a smile. I returned it, tight and forced, shutting the door with a soft thud and dropping into the plush seat across from her, the fabric worn smooth from years of reluctant wolves like me.

She picked up her clipboard, pen poised, and glanced at me over her glasses. "So, how's everything going, Kyan?" Her voice was light, but her gaze dug in, searching for cracks.

"Fine. Never been better," I said, arms crossing tight over my chest, the lie sour on my tongue. I hated this, sitting here, spilling guts I'd rather keep locked up, the lavender stink clawing at my nose.

She flicked her eyes up for a second, then back to the clipboard, scanning it like it held all my secrets. "I heard you got taken off patrol after what happened. How does that make you feel?"

I groaned, the sound rumbling low, my jaw clenching. "Kind of pissed, to be honest." The words slipped out, raw and unfiltered, heat creeping up my neck.

Her smile widened, a spark of triumph in it as she sat up straighter, studying me like I'd just cracked open a door. "Now we're getting somewhere. Why does it make you angry?"

I uncrossed my arms, leaning forward, elbows digging into my thighs as I stared at my hands, knuckles scarred from rogue fights. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I've trained most my life to fight, and right now it's pointless?" My voice rose, a sharp edge slicing through, and I paused, sucking in a breath to tamp it down, the room's cloying scent making my head swim.

"You don't need to fight to prove yourself worthy," she said, her tone calm but firm, like she was tossing me a lifeline. "I'm sure there's other ways you can contribute?"