He Had To Be An Alpha?

Chapter 19

*Alex's POV*

I did the only reasonable thing for a depressed teenage girl like me.

I hit the gym.

You all probably expected me to kidnap Ben and Jerry and cry while watching a cheap chick flick from a red box, but nope. I'm sorry to ruin this oh so cliché image in your head, but when you have been through so much unimaginable pain-you find out rather quickly that ice cream doesn't heal your boo boos.

I did, however, jack a store of three jars of Nutella if that makes you feel better, but that was mandatory. Hey, I need energy for a good work out.

I get a lot of weird stares, I mean it's totally normal. You see a teenage girl walk into a gym smeared in dirt and her own blood. Just another normal day in the life of Steel.

I don't have anything to change into since I left everything behind at the room back at the Pack House, and no way in hell am I going back for just a few pieces of fabric.

I feel bad leaving Alpha Tyler. That man has always been there for me, and not once ever raised his voice at me. He is the only person I let tell me what to do. I just love everything about him. He accepted me even though I didn't tell him very much about my past.

No one deserves those nightmares. Never mind, I take that back-I guess I do.

Maybe I'm just the only one strong enough to handle them.

I have a feeling the Fates just strapped me up, and said "Buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride." Well, that would be the understatement of the century. It has been a bumpy ride all right, and I bet they are all laughing at my expense.

I hop onto the treadmill, and the guys jogging in the treadmills nearby step off. They scatter away pretty quickly too. They're humans, but even they know not to mess with me right now.

I shove a spoonful of Nutella into my mouth, and the sweetness counters the bitter bile gathering at the back of my throat.

I push the treadmill as fast as it can go, but it just isn't fast enough for me. This cheap junk of plastic just isn't satisfying me.

I can't imagine what a mess I must be. I stopped crying a while ago, but I think it's just because my waterworks are dry. I cried myself out, and now I'm going to sweat out everything else. I just need to get all these feelings out of here.

I decide running just isn't going to cut it for me, and make my way to the fancy punching bags hanging from the wall from silver chains.

I grab some wrapping that they have rolled up on a nearby table, and start wrapping my hands. This is going to get messy.

Once my hands are wrapped, I tie my hair back with the hair tie I always keep wrapped around my right wrist at all times. I'm pretty sure I have a tan line from it too.

Oh well.

I take a deep breath before pulling my tank top over my head, leaving me in my purple sports bra, and black jeans. There is no way I am pulling my pants off either.

I can feel the men staring at my toned stomach. I am pretty sure my scar is pretty visible-even under all of the dirt and dried sweat and blood. The filthy pigs don't deserve my attention.

I tilt my head side to side to crack it, and then crack my knuckles to loosen them. I can feel the whole gym watching me-assessing me. I shake my hands, and arms while bouncing on my heels to loosen my muscles.

I take a defensive stance, and stare at the black punching bag like it just peed all over my shoes. To say the least-I was pissed.

I take a deep breath, and it's like time is going by in slow mo while I start a round house kick. I am spinning on one foot with my other one held up, when I complete my 360 I stick my foot out with a lot of force.

My foot connects with the center of the punching bag, and it swings violently. The force of my kick is so powerful that the chain that is suspending the punching bag in the air breaks easily, and the punching bag flies across the floor. It lands in a heap with a satisfying thud.

The silent room is filled with only the sound of the machines beeping and whirring. I release my deep breath, and let my still raised leg settle back to the floor.

"What the hell?" A macho man grumbles, scratching his head.

"Miss, I'm afraid you're going to have to pay for that property." The supervisor said, and I just shrug my shoulders.

"Got no money," I say, smirking evilly.

The dude takes a step back, away from me.

"Then you're going to have to leave please, you're disturbing our customers," The supervisor stays hesitantly.

"What is this? Build a Bulk?" I ask, raising my eyebrow at him. Why are they called customers? It's not like they're buying anything.

I look into the guy who has the nerve to talk to me right in his pale green eyes. He stiffens, and starts to shudder in fear. Whatever he saw in my eyes, it sure has him nearly soiling his pants . . . and I don't like it.

I push past him. The stuff here was too weak anyway. There's no way I would even lose my breath in a place like this. All of the machines here are fancy looking, but they're way too cheap-even for humans. Most of this stuff is made of plastic instead of metal.

In fact, most of the people in here look fake too.

"I'll be back when you guys feel like trashing your cheap toys," I smirk before opening the door.

That failed miserably.

Okay, time for plan B.