The funny thing about being clumsy is… I'm actually not.
I'm overweight, sure. Not sporty, not flexible, not the girl anyone expects to see on a field or a court. But I know my body. I know my balance. I know how to move through crowded hallways without crashing into people.
So, when I went down in the middle of the school courtyard—both wrists snapping like dry sticks—it wasn't because I tripped.
It was because of him.
Dominic Garrison.
The strongest Alpha in the world.
My mate.
My worst mistake.
People like to say love starts with butterflies.
Mine started with hate.
From the first day I arrived at Garrison Academy, Dominic made it very clear: he didn't like me, didn't want me there, and didn't think I belonged.
And honestly? The feeling was mutual.
He was everything I couldn't stand—rich, arrogant, annoyingly gorgeous, and worshipped like some kind of God by everyone in that stupid, expensive, elite private school. His pack ruled the halls. His father ruled the school. And he walked around like he owned the air we breathed.
I was just the Jamaican exchange student who didn't fit into any of their uniform sizes properly. The girl with too many curves and not enough patience. The one who rolled her eyes at romance, laughed at love, and skipped straight to the action scenes in every movie.
No team numbers on my back.
No medals.
No athletic anything.
Just me, my friends, my books, and my very clear plan to survive this extra three-year hell the school called "advanced education" and then go back home.
Then everything changed because of one rule I didn't even know existed:
Werewolves find their mate when they make physical contact with someone while holding eye contact.
That's it. No glitter. No fireworks. Just touch and look.
It happened a week before the fall.
I was storming out of the cafeteria, furious because Dominic had made another loud, humiliating comment about my weight—right in front of everyone, like I was a joke and not a person.
"Try not to eat the whole buffet next time, Atchinson," he'd smirked, his pack laughing behind him.
I didn't cry. I never cry in front of people. I just grabbed my tray, dropped it off, and marched toward the doors, my chest burning.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," he called after me.
"Good for you," I snapped, not even looking back.
I felt his hand close around my wrist.
I spun, ready to tear him to pieces with words, my eyes locking on his.
And everything… stopped.
The noise of the cafeteria faded. The smells of food and too many teenage bodies disappeared under something sharper, warmer—his scent, like pine and smoke and rain. His pupils blew wide, his fingers tightening just slightly around my skin.
My heart lurched.
Not in a romantic way. More like a what the hell is happening way.
His lips parted. "You've got to be kidding me," he whispered.
I yanked my hand back, the spell snapping.
"What is wrong with you?" I hissed.
He didn't answer. Just stared at me like I'd personally ruined his life.
I didn't know the mate rule then. Didn't know what that touch and eye contact meant for him—for us. All I knew was that for the rest of the day, Dominic Garrison kept looking at me like I was a problem he couldn't solve.
And somehow, I hated him even more.
Fast forward seven days.
The courtyard is crowded. People are heading to class, laughing, shoving, living their perfect little elite-school lives.
I'm walking with my friends, minding my business, pretending I can't feel Dominic's eyes burning holes in the back of my head from across the yard.
He's been… weird all week.
Less insults. More staring. Every time I turn a corner, he's there. Doors suddenly held open. People mysteriously moving out of my way. His pack members glancing between us like they know something I don't.
Spoiler: they did.
I stop near the steps, digging in my bag for my notebook.
"Kendra!"
I hear his voice a second before I feel him.
A hand on my shoulder. I spin too fast, my foot catching the edge of the step. His other hand shoots out to grab me, but instead of steadying me, we both misjudge the angle.
My world tilts.
I went down.
Instinctively, I throw my hands out to catch myself.
Bad idea.
The impact is brutal. Pain explodes through both my wrists—sharp, white-hot, blinding. I hear something cracking. Maybe once. Maybe twice. Maybe more.
I don't remember if I scream, but people are shouting.
"Someone get a teacher!"
"Oh my God, is she okay?"
"Don't move her!"
I can't move even if I want to.
Both my wrists are on fire, twisted at angles that look wrong, feel worse. My fingers won't respond. I can't push myself up. I can't do anything but lie there, tears burning my eyes as the sky swims above me.
And then Dominic is there.
On his knees beside me, pale eyes wild.
"Kendra," he breathes, like my name hurts him. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
I glare at him through the pain. "Don't… touch me."
His face flinches like I slapped him.
But he doesn't back away. His hands hover close, not daring to grab me without being told. His whole body is shaking.
"This is my fault," he whispers, voice broken. "I—Dad!" he suddenly roars, looking up. "Someone call my father!"
Of course, his father is the principal.
Of course.
The next few hours blur together.
The nurse's office. X-rays. Doctors telling me I've managed to break both wrists in two places each. Temporary casts first, then full ones. My arms strapped up, heavy and useless.
"You're going to need a lot of help for the next few weeks," one doctor says gently. "Writing, dressing, eating… pretty much everything."
Great.
Just great.
By the time I'm back in the principal's office, I'm exhausted, in pain, and ready to fight the next person who looks at me wrong.
Principal Theatus Garrison—Dominic's father, the legendary Alpha everyone whispers about—sits behind his massive desk, his expression unreadable. Dominic stands off to the side, shoulders tense, eyes on the floor.
"This should never have happened," Principal Garrison says. "My son's carelessness put you in danger, Miss Atchinson. For that, the school owes you more than an apology."
I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't want anything from them—just for them to leave me alone—but he keeps going.
"Until your casts are removed, Dominic will be personally responsible for assisting you around school."
My brain short-circuits.
"I—I'm sorry, what?" I ask.
Dominic's head snaps up. "Dad—"
"You will help her to and from each class. Carry her bag. Assist with lunch. Make sure she has what she needs. You will also see her home safely after school."
My mouth falls open. "I don't need—"
"You do," Principal Garrison says calmly, eyes kind in a way his sons have never been. "You cannot use your hands, Miss Atchinson. Writing, eating, opening doors, even using the bathroom will be a challenge. Someone must help you. Considering who caused the accident, it's only fair that it be Dominic."
"And before and after school, if she allows it," he adds, turning to his son. "You will go above and beyond."
Dominic swallows hard. For a second, I see it—the guilt, the terror, the desperate something he's been hiding since that moment in the cafeteria.
"Yes, Alpha," he says quietly.
Not "Yes, Dad."
"Yes, Alpha."
This isn't just a father's order. It's a command from his leader.
From his point of view, from his world… his mate has been hurt because of him.
I don't know that yet. Not fully. Not in a way that makes sense.
All I know is that the boy who humiliated me, the boy I hate, is suddenly going to be in my space every second of the day.
Walking me to class.
Cutting my food.
Carrying my bag.
Watching me struggle to do the simplest things.
Maybe even helping me get dressed, once we're—what did the doctor say? —"more comfortable with each other."
Yeah, right.
I look at Dominic, at the strongest Alpha in the world, and I see his jaw clenched, his fists tight, his eyes full of something that looks dangerously close to fear.
Good, I think. Let him be scared. Let him work. Let him try.
Because if he thinks breaking my wrists is the worst damage he's done?
He has no idea what it's going to take to fix my trust.
My name is Kendra Atchinson.
I don't believe in love. I don't like romance. I don't want a mate.
But thanks to one stupid rule, one careless Alpha, and two broken wrists, I'm about to spend every day with the boy I hate—
The boy's fate chose for me.
This is where it starts.