Screw My Childhood Sweetheart His Alpha Brother Marked Me First novel Chapter 7

Next morning, Ryder woke to emptiness.

Panic detonated in his chest.

She left. Regretted everything. She’s gone.

Knox called six times straight, voice frantic:

“Miss Wolfhart, please–call Alpha Ryder! He thinks you ran!”

“Won’t believe us when we say you’re coming back. Please.”

Couldn’t help grinning.

This was the guy who made everyone nervous. Rumored future Werewolf King. Could stare down death without flinching.

And he was panicking because I wasn’t in his bed.

Moon Goddess, I’m obsessed with him.

Opened WhatsApp, typed fast:

[Hey babe, heading back now. Promise.]

Minutes later, Knox called again–laughing hysterically:

“What’d you send him?! Just dropped his phone straight into his water glass! Ears are flaming!”

“And he’s actually smiling–like full–on grinning at nothing! Never seen him like this!”

“You’ve officially destroyed the Ice King. Legendary.”

Finished makeup, slipped into my favorite sundress, curled my hair. Checked the mirror one last time.

Perfect.

Grabbed my bag and rushed back.

But reaching Ryder’s door, caught a familiar voice inside–weak, whiny:

“Bro, you said I’d meet my future sister–in–law today.”

Grayson.

“So where is she?”

Took a deep breath, turned the handle, walked in.

Grayson’s head snapped around. Eyes went huge.

“Freya?”

14.42

Scrow My Childhood Sweatheart–His Alnha Brother Marked Me First!

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Chapter 7

Split second of genuine shock.

Then expression morphed into something smug, self–satisfied. Let out this low, arrogant hum.

“Oh. So you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

Raked his eyes over me slowly–taking in every detail.

Then smirked.

“Did you seriously get all dolled up just for me?”

I shook my head, voice flat, unimpressed:

“Didn’t get dressed up for you.”

Grayson’s eyes crawled over me–slow, deliberate–like he was taking inventory. Brief flash of actual surprise crossed his face. Maybe even appreciation.

“Come on, Freya. Don’t play stupid.” That smirk made me want to punch him. “You don’t throw on a dress like that and pretend it’s casual.”

Leaned back against the wall, arms folded, radiating pure arrogance.

“Where were you last night anyway? Not complaining–honestly, you did me a solid by ghosting.”

Let out this low, self–satisfied chuckle.

“If you’d actually shown? Probably would’ve done something we’d both hate ourselves for later.”

Stomach churned–half fury, half revulsion–but kept my face neutral. Wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.

Instead, walked right past him–close enough our shoulders nearly touched–heading straight for Ryder.

Stopped at his bedside, tilting my head with this playful little grin.

“So?” Asked softly. “Do I look good?”

Ryder had been lying facedown, back still wrapped in bandages from those silver burns. But his eyes had tracked me since I walked in.

Now, his expression melted–warm, almost worshipful.

“Stunning,” he said quietly. Voice rough, like he’d forgotten how to breathe. “Though I’m thinking a pearl necklace would be perfect on you.”

Glanced toward Knox standing near the door.

“Knox. My study. Second drawer left side. Australian South Sea pearl strand. Bring it.”

Knox’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait–you mean the one from that Christie’s auction last year? The one you told Mr. Grayson to give Miss Wolfhart for her birthday… but he never did?”

Ryder’s jaw locked tight. “Yeah. That one. And shut up.”

Knox grinned like Christmas came early. “On it, boss.”

Before he could move, Grayson cut in sharp:

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Chapter 7

“Hold up–Bro, I told you. Freya doesn’t like South Sea pearls. Too grandma–ish. She’s not some country club wife.”

Heat flared in my chest–defiant, sharp.

Spun to face Grayson directly, voice sweet but edged with steel:

“Who said I don’t like them? South Sea pearls are classy, timeless, and expensive. I love them. Just never bought any myself because they cost a damn fortune.”

Grayson’s face darkened. Didn’t like being contradicted–especially not in front of his brother.

Crooked his finger at me, tone dripping condescension:

“Freya. Get over here. Tell me what you actually want, and I’ll buy it. Quit bugging my brother.”

Before I could even think about moving, Ryder’s hand shot out and locked around my wrist.

Grip firm–claiming–like physically anchoring me to him.

“She’s staying right here,” Ryder said quietly. Voice calm, but with this razor edge underneath.

Grayson frowned. “What?”

Ryder ignored him. Pulled me closer instead–gentle but deliberate–until I was standing right beside his bed, his hand still wrapped tight

around mine.

First time in his life, Ryder wasn’t backing down. Wasn’t playing the mature one. Was competing.

And destroying Grayson in the process.

“Wanted to meet your future sister–in–law, right?” Ryder’s tone was cool, almost casual. But his eyes blazed.

“Well, here she is.”

Paused, letting it sink in.

“Freya’s gonna be my Luna.”

Room went dead silent.

Grayson stared like Ryder had just started speaking alien.

Then Ryder’s lips curved into this faint, dangerous smile I’d never seen before.

“Go ahead, little brother. Call her Luna.”

Grayson’s face drained white.

Long, terrible moment–just frozen there–like his brain was short–circuiting.

Then color rushed back–red, furious, violent.

“The girl on the phone last night-” Voice cracked. “That was Freya?”

Fists clenched so tight I heard knuckles crack.

– Mr. Timt!

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Chapter 7

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