Leaving The Cold-hearted Rich Alpha

I came to under a sloppy barrage of licks, those wet laps pulling me from the black. Blinking awake, there it was-a dog's mug shoved right up in my grill, all slobber and stare.

Shadows from those hellish days I'd holed up healing crashed back in: a pack of feral mutts baying at my heels, me eating dirt, then that ragged snarl of teeth and pain as they piled on. Still felt like yesterday.

"Ah!" The scream ripped out before I could choke it. I snatched up a pillow and hurled it like a lifeline.

Curled tight as a spring, I wedged myself in the corner, quaking like a leaf in a gale.

Zane and Vivian burst through the door like a storm front, scooping up the whimpering mutt from the floorboards.

Vivian's voice cracked, thick with that fake ache. "Nia, Snowy's just a harmless pup. If you've got beef with me, spit it out-don't go savage on her! And you're about to whelp your own-maybe rack up some good karma for the little one's sake?"

My breaths evened out slow, those knee-jerk tears clinging to my lashes till I swiped 'em gone.

Karma? I'd piled it sky-high, and look what it bought me: that poor lost soul in my belly, snuffed before it drew breath.

Zane gave the dog the once-over-no scratches-then pinned me with a look sour as week-old milk. "Enough with the drama already, Nia. You're crossing lines here."

Me crossing lines?

My stare locked on Vivian's getup: legs bare as the day, drowning in an oversized button-down that hit her like a tent. Stark white, it burned my eyes-my pick for Zane's birthday this year, special-ordered with all the heart I could muster.

She fumbled to button up the gap flashing her chest, words tumbling in a panic. "It's not what you're thinking! Last night, Zane and I stayed up late with Snowy on her drip-crashed right here. I didn't pack a change; he tossed me this on the fly. If it bugs you, I'll ditch it now!"

She half-rose, like she was bolting, then wheeled back with this oh-duh lightbulb, eyes flicking to Zane all troubled. "Wait-my stuff from yesterday's soaked through... Nah, still, I'll swap it out."

A sneeze cluster hit her then, hand clamped over her nose.

Zane snagged her wrist in a vise, his mug twisting uglier than sin. "No need."

Vivian shot me a pleading glance. "But..."

He cut in, flat. "Nia, ease up-don't go all hard-ass. I gave her the shirt. You expect her to sack out in damp threads on a night like that?"

I hauled myself up, gaze scraping his storm-brew face-itching to crack it open with a slap.

Not a word from me, and suddenly I'm the bully in the crosshairs.

I fired back, cool as frost. "My closet's jammed with threads-none fit her just right?"

Zane clammed up, busted.

Vivian's hack broke the ice-wet, hacking coughs. She swatted his arm, all pouty scold. "Your fault, big guy. Dragged me up to the roof deck past midnight for stargazing, or I wouldn't be fighting this bug. Or gotten splashed with that red-cue the mix-up with Nia..."

Roof deck.

My pupils blew wide.

That's where Zane and I locked eyes back in college-astronomy club nights, sparks flying under the scopes. After we bound, I turned our top-floor balcony into a full setup: pro gear, cozy nests, poured my guts into it.

Every invite for a midnight watch? Met with his shrug-off, every damn time.

Figured the grind had burned it out of him.

Turns out, just me he'd cooled on.

Found someone else to chase constellations with.

Fingers dug into my hip to keep my mask locked-no tells, no cracks.

Zane's eyes darted my way, braced for the usual waterworks, that puppy-dog pout and endless whine.

Too tired to unpack it.

Just a shirt. She was splitting hairs.

But this time? His stare hung on my blank profile-no flinch, no furrow.

Should've been a win. Instead, some itch flared under his ribs, unexplained.

Vivian tamped down her smirk, ducking behind him, voice all fragile. "Nia, word is you're a wizard with mushroom stew-mind whipping up a bowl? This cold's kicking my tail."

I didn't glance up, ice in my tone. "Not my gig, nursemaid."

"Sorry-I didn't mean it like that," she mewled, hand to her chest as another cough rattled loose, big eyes swimming to Zane. "Zane, does Nia hate my guts? What'd I screw up?"

He petted her crown soft, like soothing a spooked foal. "Ain't on you."

Wheel to me, and the warmth evaporated-patience torched.

He clamped my arm, marched me to the kitchen, pinned me in the nook. Dropped to a squat, eye-level with my deadpan stare. "Cut the crap, yeah? Vivian said her piece-call truce? It's one bowl of soup. Do it for me?"

My gaze dropped to the angry red welt scorched across my hand's back.

Freshly bound, I'd fretted over his all-nighters running the pack's reins-slaved over custom grub every dawn, loaded with all the fixings to keep him sharp.

Payoff?

Vivian's posts: my handiwork dumped in Snowy's slop dish, like table scraps.

Jaw clenched, I swallowed the lump, shoved him off to bolt-but his voice sliced cold as a blade. "Got your dam's heirloom back from hock. Want it? Play nice."

I whipped around, gobsmacked. He loomed, gaze hard as flint-no give, pure order.

For one bowl? Holding my mother's ghost over my head.

College days, her passing-he'd shouldered the rites with me, knelt grave-side and swore moon and stars: love eternal, guard her shadow forever.

Vows turn to smoke quick. He'd shed that skin long ago.

Lips quivered, nose stinging sharp.

Vivian yipped from the hall. He bailed in a flash, tossing over his shoulder: "She skips the sweet-go light on the sugar."