27

ISBERLT. 

I push the tray aside, focusing my gaze on an Alpha that's feet away from me; his gaze on the screen that sits on the desk, and his fingers typing away. 

What's he always doing on that laptop, I wonder. Perhaps some Alpha work?

Gazing down at the big t-shirt that's on me; his scent swirling around my body, and engulfing me, I can't help but wonder what the hell happened. 

What the hell happened to that Alpha that hated me more than anything? Though I doubt that hatred for me has changed, there's something else. 

It's in the way he speaks in a much softer tone, and the way he doesn't look at me like the very existence of me disgusts him, like he always does. 

He saved me from those wolves, and nursed me— though he hate being so close to me, and he made that clear. 

This is why I can't help but