The Alpha's Human Mate

Chapter 1

Ivy's POV

“Miss Carter! open the damn door, i don’t have all day!”

I groaned and dragged myself out of bed, still in the oversized t-shirt that had belonged to my aunt. the fabric smelled faintly of her laundry soap, though it had been washed a hundred times since she passed. My feet hit the linoleum, cold and cracked, and I winced at the shock.

“I'm coming,” I muttered, though Jenkins never listened.

His fist hammered again. “rent’s overdue! you’ve got two days, ivy. two! or you’re out!”

I undid the chain and opened the door a crack. the hallway smelled of cigarettes and mildew, and there he was: Jenkins, in his yellowed undershirt, his belly straining against it, gray hair wild like a bird’s nest. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw me, sharp and judgmental.

“I just need a little more time,” I said, voice small. “I will have the money.”

He snorted. “That's what you said last month. and the one before. You think I'm running a charity? pay up or pack up.”

he jabbed his finger toward my face, so close I flinched. Then he stomped down the hall, his boots echoing like drumbeats.

I shut the door and pressed my forehead against it, breathing out slowly. same threat, different day.

The apartment looked even smaller when I turned back to it. a shoebox with peeling wallpaper, a heater that wheezed more than it worked, and a bathroom crawling with roaches. I hated it, but it was the last thing I had left.

The sink groaned when I turned the faucet. Brown water spat out before clearing. I splashed my face and studied my reflection in the cracked mirror. Dark circles hung under my eyes. my lips were dry and split. my hair stuck out in tangled knots. I was only twenty-three, but I looked like I had lived twice that long.

Most girls my age had parents. or at least someone who cared.

I didn't.

my aunt had been the only one, she took me in when my mom ran off and my dad disappeared into a bottle. She gave me everything she could. She called me her “little fighter,” and said I could get through anything. but cancer didn’t care about that. two months ago, I held her hand while she slipped away, and since then, the world had been too quiet.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. The lines spread like a spider web, and sometimes I pretended they were roads on a map, leading anywhere but here. My stomach growled, a low, angry sound. I ignored it.

coffee first. food later. if there was food.

I filled the kettle and set it on the hot plate. It whistled when it boiled, too loud for the tiny room. I poured water over instant powder and sipped too quickly, burning my tongue. The bitter taste was harsh, but it reminded me I was still alive.

The stack of bills on the table caught my eye. rent. water. electricity. all stamped with red letters overdue. i lined them up neatly, pretending that made them easier to face.

“you’re fine, ivy,” i whispered, clutching the chipped mug with both hands. “you’ve been through worse.”

It was my aunt’s phrase. It didn't sound as strong when I said it alone.

a sharp tap at the window startled me. My heart raced until I saw it was only a pigeon, pecking at the glass. “You scared me,” I muttered, shooing it away.

the silence returned. My eyes drifted to the only photo on the wall. It was me and my aunt at the county fair when I was twelve. She had cotton candy in one hand and her arm wrapped around me, her smile bright and wide. She looked so alive it almost hurt to look at her now.