"What does that mean? An alpha breeder... how is it even possible?" I asked, wrapping my arms around my knees as a fresh wave of panic tightened in my chest.
Magnus leaned back against the headboard, interlacing his fingers behind his head. His heavy silver gaze swept over me once more—slowly, possessively, dragging a scorching trail down my bare shoulder that made me want to pull the duvet up to my chin.
"On rare occasions, the body of a breeder produces an abnormally high concentration of dominant pheromones, making them stronger than others," Magnus said, holding my eyes in the darkness. He looked so menacing, so utterly raw, that he seemed on the very brink of losing control.
"Put simply: while it manifests as raw power for an alpha werewolf, it manifests as irresistible allure for a breeder. Your nature will draw more males into your orbit. Your scent will drive them insane. And whoever is lucky to mate with you... will both feed on your strength and share his. You don’t have a wolf, but if you did, she would be as strong as mine. And the offspring you produce... will be unstoppable."
A violent shudder racked my frame. Fear tore through me—no, it wasn’t just fear, it was absolute, sickening horror. For years, I had been convinced my inner nature would never awaken at all. I was a late bloomer; my hormonal levels were far too low to trigger the awakening. But now, it had flooded my veins all at once, and I had no idea how to survive the aftermath. It had to be a mistake.
"Are you... are you sure about this?" I whispered, staring at him in desperate denial.
"Yes. The pack doctors confirmed it," he replied, clipped and flat.
"Can it be fixed? Can they suppress it?" My voice broke into a pathetic squeak.
When Magnus offered a slow shake of his head, my world shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.
"No."
A single word. Cold. Unforgiving. It crushed the last flickering ember of my hope.
I remained huddled on the mattress, squeezing my legs tightly to my chest as panic clawed at my lungs. An alpha breeder. An amplified scent. It meant I was a walking target. I would command attention—the dangerous, predatory kind of attention from Alphas who would stop at nothing to claim me.
"Why did this happen now?" I asked softly, searching his face for answers.
"Because your dormant nature was trying to protect you," Magnus explained, his voice dipping into a low rumble. "From an aggressive male. From that piece of filth. She triggered the awakening to flood the room with your pheromones, trying to pacify him and save your life."
An icy shiver raced down my spine. It still felt surreal that a professor—an authority figure in the institute—had intended to take me by force, convinced that I was somehow begging for it. That I was enticing him. It was terrifying to realize such monsters lurked freely behind closed doors.
My own body had turned on its instinctual defenses, shattering its shell just to keep me alive.
"And what happens now?" I asked, trembling under the weight of his unyielding gaze.
Magnus was staring at me with a dark, suffocating intensity that set every nerve in my skin on fire. His eyes tracked the line of my face, dropping to my bruised throat, and lingering lower. His gaze on my skin felt almost physical. Glancing down, I realized the cause of his fixation—the neck of his oversized shirt had slipped completely off my shoulder, exposing a pale expanse of skin.
"Until your transformation stabilizes, you will only step onto campus under guard," he commanded, the tone laced with absolute Alpha steel. "Because if another male catches a single whiff of your shifting scent, he will lose his mind and snap."
"I can’t have a shadow everywhere I go!" I protested, my voice rising as panic flared into frustration. "I have classes. I have my part-time job. I can’t just abandon my life!"
"Jane, don’t overthink things you can’t control. My men will escort you," he cut in, leaving no room for argument.
He stood up from the bed in one fluid motion and walked over to the window, staring out into the pitch-black night. His broad, towering silhouette was framed by the moonlight—lethal, magnificent, and terrifying.
Just looking at him made goosebumps break out across my entire body.
"Get some rest," he tossed over his shoulder. "Tomorrow, we’re going to the university. Together."
With that final command, he stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone in the heavy silence.
***
Several weeks had passed since the moment I woke up in Magnus’s apartment, and just as he had promised, his men escorted me to the university every single day.
They were virtually invisible—ghosts blending effortlessly into the bustling crowds of students. I couldn’t always spot them, but I knew they were lurking nearby; Magnus would never leave me unguarded.
Oddly enough, a few new males had transferred into our study group. They looked young—around twenty at most—yet they radiated an underlying, destructive energy. It was harsh and suffocating, making me want to keep my distance, even though they behaved impeccably and never attempted to speak to me.
When I returned to classes, there wasn’t a single rumor about what had happened to me. It was as if the incident had never occurred at all, which brought me immense relief—the last thing I wanted was unwanted attention. But as for the professor...
Swallowing hard, I stared at the floor as I recalled the gruesome whispers echoing through the hallways. Rumors spread like wildfire that his body had been discovered under a bridge, suspended upside down by his ankles. His flesh had been grotesquely carved with an obscene message, and several body parts were missing altogether.
It was horrifying. When I first overheard the students discussing it in the hallway, a violent tremble seized my body, forcing me to lean against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut to banish the memories.
They said he looked more like a mound of mutilated flesh than a human being. Soon after, dark truths began surfacing—how he had coerced young females, blackmailed them, and bought stolen locker room footage.
He was an absolute monster who belonged in the deepest cells of the lower city prison. He deserved to rot there. But Magnus had executed his own brand of justice, and the sheer ruthlessness of it terrified me. The rumors surrounding Magnus were bad, but the reality was far worse.
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