My Nerdy Alpha's True Masks

The final bell had rung over an hour ago.

In the quiet expanse of the library, Finnick’s gaze drifted toward the wall clock with growing irritation.

It was as if the clock itself were the enemy, ticking away mercilessly and mocking him as he sat there, still waiting for Indiana to swagger through those doors with her usual arrogant attitude.

'Damn it, I knew she would be the death of me,' Finnick cursed silently.

'I was naive to think a girl like her would suddenly find some discipline and actually keep her word.'

He stood up, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, and took a long, stabilizing breath to wipe any trace of annoyance from his face, forcing his expression back into a cold, unreadable blank slate.

'I need to find out if she's even worth another second of my time.'

Finnick headed toward the classrooms to track her down, fully expecting to find her lingering and gossiping with the others.

But she’s not there, the room almost empty.

He had guessed wrong, and for some unsettling reason, his chest tightened—a sudden drop in his gut that caught him completely off guard.

A girl packing up her books noticed his eyes scanning the empty rows.

"Looking for someone?" she asked in a friendly tone.

"Indiana," Finnick replied flatly, his face a mask of indifference.

Though her brows knitted in sheer confusion as to why Finnick the Nerd was looking for the school's resident rebel, she still answered, "Probably wasting time by the parking lot with Jax and his crowd."

Without offering a single word of thanks, Finnick turned and walked away.

His strides lengthened as he cut through the shadows toward the deserted back parking lot.

Faintly, his hyper-acute wolf senses picked up a laugh he recognized all too well. It was Jax, his laugh sounding forced and hollow, blending with the low, venomous whispers of his lackeys behind the concrete wall of the motorcycle lot.

"I'm not just letting it slide, getting trashed like that by that pathetic loser," Jax spat, gingerly touching his arm where it hung cradled in a sling.

"But I figured out that nerd's weak spot. He tried to play the hero for Indiana in the library yesterday, right? It means, he gives a shit about her," Jax instigated, his voice dripping with malice.

"Wahoo, I sensed our next move?" Brock asked, leaning in, completely hooked.

"I’m going to use Indiana to break him. Besides, she’s been playing the girlfriend part for a while now but keeps acting like she’s untouchable. Touch her even a little and she flinches away. I’m betting she’s still a virgin, which makes her a much more entertaining target," Jax laughed, spitting onto the asphalt with a repulsive smirk twisting his face.

"Tonight, she's finally going to learn her place. I kill two birds with one stone, I take Indiana, and get my sweet revenge on the Nerd as well," Jax bragged, laughing to himself.

Behind the wall, Finnick’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together.

'A virgin? Hah,' he scoffed internally, his skepticism flaring.

'What a load of absolute bullshit.'

For a split second, Finnick was on the verge of stepping out from the shadows and snapping Jax’s neck to put an end to his sick little plan, but he forced his instincts down.

He couldn't be reckless. What he needed to do right now was find Indiana and snap some sense into her.

'But where the hell is she?' he thought, frustration building up.

His question was answered a second later when Jax carelessly leaked her exact location.

"Where and when are we doing this?" Brock asked, his excitement ramping up.

Jax’s next words were all Finnick needed to hear before deciding to track Indiana down himself.

***

THUD.

The heavy door swung open, and a suffocating wave of nicotine hit Finnick’s nose, making him wince.

Low, hazy neon lights in shades of bleeding red and purple blinked sluggishly, cutting through the thick smoke hanging in the air.

The oppressive thumping of the bass vibrated right through the wooden floorboards of the shady, low-end club tucked away in a dark corner of Dreadmoor.

His eyes swept the room, and the moment they locked onto his target, his wolf instincts roared to life.

In the center of a low stage, surrounded by a crowd of leering, intoxicated men, a girl in a vibrant purple wig and a black lace mask was swaying to the rhythm, her hands gripping a stripper pole.

Indiana.

Even with the mask obscuring her features, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of the mate bond radiating from her skin was something Finnick could never mistake.

She was wearing next to nothing, putting her sharp curves on full display and striking provocative poses just to collect the crumpled dollar bills tossed onto the stage.

A dark, primal Alpha rage exploded in Finnick's chest.

His blood ran scalding hot. How dare his she-wolf parade her untouched, sacred body in front of these disgusting, pathetic men?

Maneuvering through the crowd without a second thought, he leaped onto the stage and wrapped his hand around Indiana’s wrist, his grip bringing her movements to a dead stop.

"We’re leaving. Now," Finnick hissed, his voice vibrating with the sheer effort of holding back his inner beast.

Indiana’s eyes went wide behind the lace mask.

"Finnick?! How the hell did you—let go of me! What do you think you're doing!" She tried to wrench her arm free, but his hand was an unyielding cuff of steel.

"I said get the hell out of this dumpster, Indiana!" Finnick snapped, his tone darkening.

"This is my job, freak! Stop trying to play the damn hero! Get out of here before you get me fired!" Indiana whispered fiercely, trying desperately to avoid a massive scene.

Her pride as a rebel girl refused to break; she deliberately stepped into his space, tilting her body up to challenge him with the same provocative stance she used on customers.

"Unless, of course, you want to pay for my time with that little pathetic pocket money you have," she taunted, giving him a sharp, wicked wink.

Finnick’s jaw tightened into a hard line.

The suffocating aura of an Alpha’s dominance bled out just enough to make the hairs on the back of Indiana’s neck stand on end.

"You cheap, foolish girl," he murmured, his voice laced with pure disgust.

"What did you just say to me?!" Indiana snapped, all attempts at keeping her cool completely vanishing.

"Get the hell off this stage, you loser!" she roared.

"Not without you."

An intense, chaotic tug-of-war broke out between them.

Indiana kicked and thrashed, her blinding stubbornness crashing head-on into Finnick’s absolute dominance.

The scene instantly drew the wrong kind of attention.

Three burly men in club bouncer uniforms marched onto the stage, one of them shoving a heavy hand into Finnick’s shoulder.

"Hey, brat! Let go of her before I break your arm in half!" the head bouncer barked.

Finnick didn't retreat a single inch.

Slowly, deliberately, he pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, boring his cold gaze into the guard before shifting his eyes toward a middle-aged man in a sharp suit watching from a VIP booth—the club owner.

"You've made a fatal mistake," Finnick said, his voice terrifyingly calm, cutting right through the booming bass.

"Employing a minor in an establishment like this is a federal crime. One phone call from me, and this place gets boarded up right this second," he threatened with so much confidence.

At the mention of the threat, the owner's face turned incredibly dark. He gave a cold, dismissive flick of his wrist.

"Drag the bastard to the back alley. Teach him a lesson so he learns to keep his mouth shut."

Brak!

Finnick’s body crashed hard against a pile of filthy trash cans in the pitch-black back alley of the club.

Indiana burst through the exit door, her breath coming in ragged gasps, "Finnick! Get up! Run, you idiot!" she screamed, panic taking over.

It was too late.

The four club bouncers and the owner had already closed in on them, trapping them against the brick wall.

Finnick rose slowly, calmly brushing the dirt off his clothes.

Physically, he could have torn these five men limb from limb in less than three seconds. But his hands were tied. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the faint glow of a phone screen. Someone from the window of the adjacent building was recording the entire thing.

If Finnick unleashed even a fraction of his monstrous strength, his cover would blow completely. Clenching his teeth, he made a split-second executive decision, ‘Let them hit me.’

Fist after fist rained down on Finnick’s stomach and face. The massive men beat him brutally, showing no mercy.

Finnick allowed himself to collapse onto the cold asphalt, taking hit after hit as they kicked him repeatedly until his lip split open and his glasses cracked across the lenses.

"Sir! Enough! Stop it, please stop!" Indiana shrieked hysterically, throwing herself forward to intervene, but another guard shoved her back roughly, sending her crashing to the ground.

Tears streamed down her face, her chest aching with a strange, hollow panic as she watched the nerd—the boy who had only come to save her—getting broken and bloodied right in front of her.

Once Finnick stopped moving, the club owner spat onto the ground. "Let’s go. And you, Indiana... you’re done here. Don’t ever show your face in my club again."

Indiana scrambled on her hands and knees toward Finnick’s limp body. "Finnick... hey, open your eyes... you idiot," she whispered frantically, her hands shaking as she patted his bruised, bleeding face.

Finnick opened his swollen eyes just a fraction, his gaze locking onto hers.

"You are so much trouble," he muttered weakly, before closing his eyes again, forcing himself to feign unconsciousness.

***

The following morning, Stuart Academy was practically on fire.

The video of the brutal beatdown in the alley behind the strip club had spread like wildfire through the school’s class groups.

Making matters worse, the clip was plastered with a blatant caption that exposed the dirty truth: Indiana Stuart, an underage stripper, was the reason for the brawl.

Walking down the corridors, Indiana was met with a barrage of disgusting whispers and mocking sneers, but she kept her head high, forcing her usual arrogant, untouchable defiance onto her face. At the corner by the bulletin board, Jax and his crew were laughing loudest, looking smugly satisfied with a victory they didn't even have to bleed for.

"Indiana Stuart and Finnick Axton! Report to the Principal’s office immediately!" the school intercom boomed, shattering the loud chatter of the hallway.

'Shoot,' Indiana muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Inside the office, Principal Mary stood towering behind her desk, her breathing shallow and ragged, her face flushed a furious crimson as she fought to contain an explosive rage.

"Finnick Axton, since you completely failed to manage my daughter, you can officially kiss your Oxyord application goodbye," Mary sneered, her voice ice-cold as her hands ripped Finnick’s admission papers to shreds, her expression dead and frozen.

"MOM! WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?! THIS WAS ALL ON ME!" Indiana roared in fury.