My Fated Alpha's Cruel Game (Elena and Marcus) novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Chapter 1 Unexpected Mate Bond

Elena’s POV

The rain was hammering the trailer roof like it wanted in.

I cracked one eye open on the sagging couch and stared at the water stain spreading across the ceiling. Happy birthday to me.

Something rustled on the coffee table. A handful of wild daisies, still wet from the woods, sat in a chipped mug. Next to them, a folded note in Mom’s neat handwriting.

My beautiful girl. Eighteen today. I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become. There’s toast in the kitchen. I love you more than the moon. —M

My throat went tight. I read it twice. Then I folded it small and slipped it into my back pocket.

She’d left before dawn. Again. Working multiple dead-end jobs just to keep us afloat.

I swung my boots off the couch and padded to the window. Grey sky. Grey woods. The trailer sat at the end of a dirt road, far from the packhouse, far from anyone who mattered. That was how they liked us. Forgotten.

Are you going to mope all morning, or are we moving?

Tara, my inner wolf, stretched in the back of my skull like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m moving,” I muttered.

I fished a stolen, half-crushed cigarette from my pocket.

That is disgusting. Our lungs, Elena.

“Your lungs are fine. Mine need this.”

You are being dramatic.

“It’s my birthday. I get to be dramatic.”

She huffed and curled up again.

I pulled on my jeans. Worn thin at the knees. Black T-shirt. Black boots, scuffed to hell but solid. I tied my hair back, platinum rope swinging past my waist, and caught my reflection in the cracked mirror by the door.

Six foot one of bad attitude. Good. I’d need it.

The walk to school was a long one in the rain. My boots squelched through mud and gravel. By the time the brick building came into view, my hair was plastered to my neck and my mood had curdled into something mean.

Inside, the hallway smelled like cheap floor wax and wet wool. Lockers slammed. Conversations hushed as I passed. I kept my chin up and my eyes forward.

Then a shoulder slammed into mine.

My face met metal with a crack that echoed down the corridor. Pain bloomed hot above my cheekbone. Something warm ran down to my jaw.

I pushed off the locker and turned.

Brock. Of course.

He grinned like he’d won a prize. Broad shoulders, stupid smirk, and Sloane hanging off his arm like a second-rate accessory. Sloane, who used to braid my hair on sleepovers. Sloane, who hadn’t looked me in the eye in years.

“Oops,” Brock said. “Didn’t see you there, Fairfax. Hard to miss a giant, though. My bad.”

“Walk away, Brock.”

He stepped closer instead. His fingers came up and brushed the blood off my cheek, slow, like he was tasting the moment.

“You know,” he said, “I bet you’d do anything for a free lunch. That why your mama still has a roof? Because you’re spreading those long legs for the kitchen staff?”

My hand curled into a fist at my side.

He slapped me.

Not hard enough to turn my head. Hard enough to sting.

“Cheap little slut.”

Tara snarled loud enough to rattle my teeth.

I smiled.

Then I brought my forehead down into his nose.

The crunch was gorgeous. Brock yelped, stumbled, and I grabbed the back of his skull and drove his face into the locker. Once. Twice. Blood smeared the metal. His knees buckled and I rode him down, kneeing him in the gut, in the jaw, until his eyes rolled white and his body went loose under me.

Somebody was screaming. Sloane, probably. The sound barely registered.

“Miss Fairfax!”

I looked up. Principal Brooks stood at the end of the hall, face purple, tie crooked. A crowd had formed.

I wiped blood off my lip with the back of my hand and stood. Brock stayed down.

“He started it,” I said calmly.

“She attacked him!” Sloane shrieked. “Out of nowhere! He didn’t do a thing, I swear—”

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