Page 24 of The Alpha Under My Bed (The Chosen #1)

Twenty-Four

MALCOLM

Blood dripped from my fingers. Sticky. Warm. Thick.

Julian’s scent still clung to my skin, but it was faint now. Fading. Dying. Just like the rest of them. My heart wasn’t racing. My breath wasn’t uneven. I stood in a room full of corpses, and I felt nothing.

Because I wasn’t done yet.

I flexed my hand, feeling the slick weight of Genevieve’s severed bite mark where I clutched it between my fingers. It was soft. Still fresh. Still hers.

Not anymore.

I exhaled through my nose, flicking the blood from my fingertips as I stepped over Julian’s body. His head lolled to the side, mouth still open—a grotesque mockery of whatever last, desperate plea he had been about to make. I didn’t care. None of them mattered. Not anymore.

Ellie.

She was the only thing that mattered.

And I had wasted too much fucking time.

I grabbed my phone, ignoring the blood smeared across the screen as I pulled up the last number I had called. The second it rang, it picked up.

A sharp inhale. “Mal?”

“Location.” My voice was flat. Controlled. Dangerous.

A pause. Then, the rustling of paper. “We got it. A warehouse, south of Oakhaven. Unregistered. Private lease.” A beat. “Mal, whatever you’re thinking?—”

I ended the call.

I already knew how this was going to end.

I didn’t take my car.

Too slow. Too limiting.

I took my bike.

The engine roared to life beneath me, the sound vibrating through my bones as I tore through the streets. The city blurred past me, lights streaking against the night, but I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t need to. My body moved on instinct, every nerve screaming for her.

Ellie.

She wasn’t far. I could feel it.

The bond was still thin. Still weak. Still alive.

But she was afraid.

I gritted my teeth, pushing the bike harder, faster. The growl of the engine was drowned out by the pounding in my skull. I should have kept her close. Should have locked her down the second she let me in. Should have burned the fucking world down before letting anyone touch what was mine.

Too late for that now.

Now? Now, I was fixing my mistake.

I pulled up to the warehouse in under fifteen minutes. It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that only existed when people were waiting.

I parked the bike and swung my leg over, rolling my shoulders as I took in the building. No guards outside. No cars. No movement.

They had no idea who they had stolen from.

No idea what they had just unleashed.

I stalked toward the door. No hesitation. No second-guessing. I didn’t have the patience for a subtle entrance. Didn’t have the time for anything other than getting Ellie back.

So, I didn’t knock.

I just kicked the fucking door in.

The door didn’t just open—it exploded.

The impact sent the metal slamming into the wall, rattling the entire warehouse. Dust rained down from the rafters. A sharp, startled yell echoed from deeper inside, boots scraping against concrete as they realized their mistake.

I stepped through the threshold, slow, deliberate, blood still drying under my nails. The scent of metal, chemicals, and Ellie hit me all at once, threading through my lungs like a fucking drug.

She was here.

And so was Claudia.

I exhaled through my nose, tilting my head as I scanned the space. The warehouse was old. Dusty. The kind of place no one looked at twice. A few tables. A row of storage lockers. Metal cages along the back wall. A fucking lab setup.

I barely processed it before movement flickered to my left.

Two men. Armed. Beta. Trained.

Didn’t matter.

I moved before they could breathe.

The first one barely had time to register I was in front of him before my fist cracked against his throat. The impact crushed cartilage, sent him choking, clawing at his neck as he stumbled back.

The second raised his gun. Too slow.

I caught his wrist, twisting it hard enough to hear the sick snap of bone. The gun clattered to the ground, his mouth parting in a scream that never got the chance to escape. My other hand snapped forward, catching him by the jaw, shoving him into the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

His body sagged. Unconscious. Useless.

I stepped over him, inhaling deeply, my entire body thrumming with the hunt.

The bond pulled tight. Ellie’s scent flared.

And underneath it—the sour tang of fear.

A growl curled in my chest, low, guttural. I followed the scent, my steps silent, my heartbeat even. This wasn’t panic. This wasn’t rage.

This was patience.

A predator tracking its prey.

A door loomed ahead. Not locked. Just shut.

I shoved it open?—

And there she was. Ellie was strapped to a chair.

Her head lolled to the side, breath shallow, skin damp with sweat. Fucked up. Drugged. Her scent was wrong—too thin, too faint, like her body was too exhausted to produce anything more. But she was still alive.

And Claudia was standing over her.

The moment my eyes locked onto her, something in me snapped.

Claudia had a syringe in her grip, fingers trembling, pupils blown wide—not from fear, but from the thrill. She was too wrapped up in her obsession to even notice me, still staring at Ellie, lips parted, gaze fixated like she was looking at her next fix. The realization hit slowly, like dripping venom, her breath catching as her gaze finally flicked to the door.

Her lips parted. Her pupils shrank. The blood drained from her face.

She knew me.

Had known me for years.

And she had never been afraid of me.

Until now.

The syringe slipped from her grip, shattering against the concrete. Her whole body locked up, her eyes darting over me like her brain couldn’t process what the fuck she was seeing.

“Mal?” she rasped.

Not Mal.

Not the beta best friend.

Not the safe one.

I stepped into the light, slow, measured, letting her take in all of me.

The blood smeared across my skin. The cuts across my knuckles. The dark, unshakable weight of my scent pressing down on her like a physical force.

Her breathing hitched.

Her pupils dilated.

“You’re—” She stopped. Swallowed. Her fingers clenched at her sides like she was trying to ground herself. “You were?—”

“Beta?” I supplied. My lips twitched. “Yeah. That’s what you all thought, wasn’t it?”

Her knees almost buckled.

This was new for her. Claudia—the smug, self-absorbed, manipulative bitch who had spent years treating me like nothing but a shadow next to Ellie. The pathetic beta best friend. The one she didn’t need to watch. The one she never took seriously.

Now?

Now she was terrified.

“You—” Her breath caught, her voice shaking, her throat working like she was trying not to throw up. “You—You’re an alpha?”

I smiled. Slow. Sharp. Bloody.

Her scent spiked with fear.

I inhaled, dragging the taste of her panic into my lungs, letting it settle on my tongue like fine fucking wine.

“You should’ve left her alone, Claudia,” I murmured, taking another step.

She flinched.

Her back hit the wall, her hands splaying against the rusted steel like she could push through it if she just pressed hard enough. Her whole body shook. Not with defiance. Not with anger. With fear.

Because she had finally put it together.

The disconnect.

The lie.

She had spent years thinking she knew me. Thinking I was safe. Thinking I was weak. And now, she was standing in front of something she didn’t understand. Something she could never control.

Her lips trembled. “Mal, we can talk about this?—”

I lunged.

She screamed.

I caught her by the throat.

Her body slammed against the wall, the impact rattling the rusted shelves behind her. Dust rained from the rafters, settling over her trembling form. She let out a choked sound, fingers clawing at my grip, legs kicking wildly at the air. Her nails bit into my skin, but I barely felt it.

Her pulse hammered beneath my palm. Fast. Desperate. Weak.

Good.

I squeezed. Not enough to kill. Not yet.

“You were stealing from me,” I murmured, flexing my fingers just slightly, watching her eyes bulge. “Taking something that wasn’t yours. Touching something that wasn’t yours.”

She made another strangled sound, trying to twist away, but I shoved her harder, grinding the back of her skull against the rusted steel.

“You thought you could bottle her,” I continued, my voice low, deliberate, cruel. “You thought you could tear her apart, take what you wanted, and no one would stop you.”

Her whole body shuddered. I dragged my thumb over the frantic, pounding pulse in her throat, feeling her heart slam against my grip—panicked, frantic, fading.

“Where did you think this would end?” I murmured, dipping my head, letting my lips brush her ear. “Did you think I’d let you go?”

Her fingers scrabbled weakly at my wrist, nails slipping against my skin. “M-Mal—” she choked, her voice cracking.

I smiled, slow and cruel. “I’m not Mal. Not to you.”

And then I ripped her throat open.

Her scream barely made it past her lips before it gurgled into nothing.

She jerked violently in my grasp, her hands spasming, feet kicking weakly at nothing. Blood spurted hot and thick, soaking my hand, my wrist, spilling down my forearm in sluggish, sticky waves, pooling beneath her twitching body. Her heartbeat stuttered. Slowed. Stopped.

And then she was nothing.

Just a dead thing in my grip.

I let her drop.

Her body hit the floor with a wet, lifeless thud, and I barely spared her another glance. She had never mattered.

Ellie was the only thing that mattered.

And now?

I was taking her back.