"You lucky lady!" Hessa exclaimed, nudging Dahlia with her elbow. "When were you planning to tell me about this?" She sounded upset that Dahlia hadn't shared the news. But how could she? It wasn't like she received a scholarship to a prestigious college; she had simply gotten a chance to visit the Alpha's Cell.

"I forgot!" Dahlia replied, blowing a strand of hair out of her face and picking up the last fry on her plate. "I didn't think I would get an opportunity since I only turned eighteen a few months ago, and I signed up when I was seventeen." One of the strictest rules of the entire experience and the Cell was that minors couldn't participate or even sign up.

Hessa swatted away a bee and kicked her feet under the table. "Oh, come on. I'm eighteen too. Where is my letter?" She pouted.

"You never signed up, Hessa," Dahlia reminded her with a stern look, which finally silenced her.

"Oops. Signing up to experience the Alpha is the first thing I'll do after school," Hessa mused.

"He doesn't do that," Dahlia interjected. "Well, he does, but not often. He only fulfills the fantasies of the women in our pack, that's all." She clarified, emphasizing the point.

The disclosure agreement they had signed outlined clearly what to expect and what not to expect. One of the strongest clauses stated that the Alpha wouldn't engage in anything beyond pleasuring. Women could specify their desires or simply offer themselves to be used as the Alpha pleased.

Women in their pack were enamored with him—Alpha Xavier. A mix of sex demon, werewolf, and Alpha—a god-like figure, merciless, handsome, and above all, powerful. His origins were steeped in mystery, born in hell and raised on earth. His mother's lineage of Alphas made him the first hybrid Alpha of their time.

Danger was etched on his face, and pride shone in his eyes. His physique was robust, his complexion bronzed, and his profile more rugged than any other man on earth.

All of them had grown up infatuated with him, daydreaming and fantasizing about him. He commanded attention wherever he went; even the elements seemed to respond to his presence. His Cell was where every woman wanted to be.

Including Dahlia and Hessa.

No one could resist him. No one.

The school bell rang, pulling Dahlia out of her daydreams—temporarily. She and Hessa left the cafeteria to attend the rest of their classes.

Dahlia had received the letter the night before. It was a shock to be chosen from hundreds of other women. She had a date set for her visit to the Alpha's Cell: next weekend, at the stroke of midnight.

"So, are you going to start getting ready?" Hessa asked.

"Mhm. I'm just going to be on edge until next weekend. I might go shopping to find the perfect dress. Would you like to come along?" Dahlia asked, settling into her chair and casting a hopeful glance at Hessa.

"What's the point? It's just going to end up on the floor anyway," Hessa joked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Dahlia chuckled, acknowledging the truth in Hessa's words. "Yeah, you're right!"

Just six more days.

...

The Alpha's Cell was situated far from the heart of the town, nestled beside an abandoned building and near the forest's edge. A club nearby thumped with heavy music, and the pungent scent of alcohol floated out. Despite the noise, the surrounding area was eerily deserted, devoid of cars or people.

"Dahlia Collins," she announced, presenting her ID to the man at the warehouse entrance that led to the Cell—a real one. It was her first visit, and no one she knew had been there before. Those who did go never spoke of their experience, bound by the confidentiality of the disclosure agreement.

But the rumors were tantalizing.

Stories that took one's breath away.

"Ah, just in time," the man said, setting his keys aside and snatching the ID from her hand. "Too young—"

"Eighteen," Dahlia interrupted.

He glanced up briefly. "I can count."

"I know," she replied.

It was the same man she had encountered a year ago when she and a group of friends, caught up in a haze of inebriation, signed up for a chance to meet the Alpha. None of her old friends had received their letters yet.

Just her.

So far.

"Sign," he barked, slapping a paper on the desk and handing her a pen. "And remember, the Alpha prefers girls who know when to hold their tongues."

Men like him were all too common in the pack—rude and arrogant. It was partly why many of the women sought pleasure beyond the confines of their male counterparts.

Dahlia scribbled her signature on the document, affirming she wasn't under the influence. She set the paper down firmly. "I know."

The man scoffed and gestured to the side. "Go left and down the stairs. You'll find the Alpha. Enjoy yourself."

Taking a deep breath, Dahlia clutched her bag's straps and began her descent toward the Cell. This was the dream, her fantasy. The Alpha was a rare sight in daylight, and the last time she had laid eyes on him was at a school event months ago. She and her friends had spent the evening in awe, unable to speak to him or even touch him—it was forbidden.

The only interaction permitted was in his Cell, and she was finally there.

She had thrown on whatever she could find in her closet—an impossibly tiny black dress that was strapless. After a moments' uncertainty, she stepped through the iron gates of the Cell and descended the stairs to where the Alpha awaited.

At the bottom, she entered a large, stone-walled room with chains hanging from the walls and a small round table in the center. To the side, a cell flickered with an intense, scarlet flame. Her heart raced with anticipation as her gaze landed on the Alpha, seated calmly with a drink in hand.

Standing before him, Dahlia fidgeted with the back of her dress nervously. The Alpha lifted his head, his eyes locking onto hers for what felt like an eternity. Something in his gaze paralyzed her, holding her in place.

His voice, low and smooth, finally broke the silence. "You're very young."

"I'm eighteen," Dahlia clarified, steadying her gaze to meet his.