imed by My Bully Alpha

Caleb’s POV

The ball was in my hands, and the game had my full attention–or at least that’s what I wanted to believe. My focus should have been on the field, on the y, on securing the win, but my mind had other ideas. In my peripheral vision, I caught sight of Caroline and Aurora talking. My grip on the ball tightened, my jaw clenched.

I knew Caroline well enough to know when she was genuinely interested in someone, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that her attention toward Aurora wasn’t just casual curiosity. It made my skin prickle with something I didn’t want to name.

I told myself it was nothing. I told myself I didn’t care. But my agitation was far deeper than I let on. It wasn’t just about Caroline. It was about Aurora, I didn’t want her getting too close to Caroline, and the reasons for that were… personal. More personal than I was willing to admit, even to myself. I could feel it like an itch in the back of my mind, a slow burn that refused to go away no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

Then, suddenly, amotion from the sidelines shattered my thoughts, dragging me back to reality. The noise wasn’t just background chatter -it was sharp, charged with an unmistakable energy that only one person could bring.

I stiffen the moment I catch his scent, my entire body going on high alert before I even turn to face him. This wasn’t just any enemy walking into my territory–this was him. He and I had been at each other’s throats for as long as I could remember, our rivalry stretching over years, fueled by countless battles, unspoken grudges, and the burning desire to see the other fall. And now, here he was, striding toward me with that ever–infuriating smirk, as if he owned the damn ce.

Damien Salvatore. The quarterback of Bar Harbor High. My rival. And more importantly, the future Alpha of Woond Hunters, the pack that bordered ours.

“Caleb,” he drawls, his voice thick with amusement, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his coat. “I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by. See how you’re preparing for our annual match.”

I narrow my eyes, fists instinctively clenching at my sides. Damien never did anything without an agenda, and I wasn’t naive enough to believe he just happened to be nearby. “Cut the crap,” I say tly. “I don’t believe for a second that you’re here just for that. So, unless you want a fight right now, I suggest you turn around and leave.”

Damien tilts his head, that smirk widening, his gaze gleaming with amusement. He thrives off this–the tension, the hostility, the constant push and pull between us. “Now, now,” he muses. “No need to be so hostile. Can’t an old rivale say hello without you assuming the worst?”

I scoff, shifting my stance slightly, already preparing for the inevitable. “Not when that rival is you.”

A slow smirk yed on his lips as he walked toward the field, his presence immediately drawing the attention of half the crowd. He thrived on it. Every step he took was deliberate, confident, like he owned the ce, despite the fact that he was on our turf.

He chuckled, stopping just a few feet away. “Come on, Caleb. Don’t be like that. Just thought I’d check out thepetition before the big game next month.” His eyes flickered past me for a split second, and then his smirk deepened.

I didn’t have to follow his gaze to know where it hadnded.

Towards Aurora and Caroline.

Something inside me twisted, something printal, something possessive. I clenched my fists at my sides, exhaling through my nose. He was doing this on purpose. He wanted a reaction. And damn it, he was close to getting one.

He chuckles, as if thoroughly entertained, then steps even closer. “I also heard your birthday’sing up soon,” he says, his tone deliberately slow, calcted. “So I figured I’d wish you in advance.”

I don’t respond, just watch him carefully, waiting for the punchline–because there is always a punchline with Damien. And sure enough, his smirk turns razor–sharp as he leans in slightly, voice lowering just enough to make sure I catch every word.

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“My only wish,” he murmurs, “is that your mate absolutely hates your guts.”

The second the words leave his month, something inside me shaps. A low growl rumbles in my chest as 1 lunge at him without thinking, my vision going red with fury. Damien was always good at getting under my skin, but this–this was a low blow, even for him. I swing first, bmy /bfist colliding with his jaw in a satisfying crack, sending him stumbling back a step. But he barely has time to recover before I’m on him again, shoving him hard against the nearest wall.

“You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” I snarl, my grip tightening on his cor.

Damien, infuriating as ever, merelyughs, even with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Ah, there it is,” he breathes, his hands gripping my wrists but making no real effort to push me off. “That famous temper of yours.”

1 m him back again, harder this time, my patience long gone. “Get out,” I hissed. “Before I make sure you don’t walk out.”

He grins, teeth shing,pletely unbothered by the threat. “You know, Caleb,” he murmurs, “I love it when you get like this.”

That’s it. I pull back to hit him again, but this time, Damien is ready. He ducks at thest second, twisting out of my grip, and before I can react, he delivers a sharp jab to my ribs, making me grunt in pain. The fight spirals fast–punches thrown, bodies colliding, years of pent–up aggression pouring into every move. We were always like this, two storms destined to sh, neither willing to back down.

And as much as I hate to admit it, some part of me knows–this won’t be thest time.

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