Caught Between Them

The pack house bustled with activity. Laughter and the rhythmic thrum of music spilled through the open doors, beckoning everyone in. Tonight was Logan’s annual summer solstice party, a chance for the pack to unwind, celebrate, and maybe even find a little romance under the full moon.

Me? I just wanted to avoid trouble. Trouble wore a mischievous grin and called itself Sage. With my shoulder still throbbing a dull protest, dancing wasn’t exactly appealing. Instead, I found myself tucked away at a corner table, nursing a glass of water and trying my best to blend into the background.

Gwen, usually my partner in crime at these events, was currently tearing up the dance floor with a group of younger pack members. A smile played on my lips as I watched her infectious enthusiasm. She deserved a night of carefree fun, something I just didn’t seem capable of anymore.

My thoughts were interrupted by the soft thud of someone sitting down next to me. A familiar scent filled my nose pine needles and something… earthy? Glancing sideways, I wasn’t surprised to find Sage perched on the stool, a sly grin plastered on her face.

“Well, well,” she drawled, her voice dripping with amusement. “Look who’s playing wallflower. Not exactly the Amelia I know.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the ice clinking in my glass. “What do you want, Sage?” My voice was clipped, laced with annoyance.

“Just some friendly company,” she said, batting her eyelashes playfully. “Isn’t that what parties are for?”NôvelDrama.Org holds this content.

“Not for everyone,” I muttered, taking a defiant sip of water, even though I’d much rather have had something stronger.

Sage leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Playing with fire, Amelia,” she said, her eyes glinting. “Two boys, both smitten. You must be feeling like quite the heartbreaker.”

My cheeks flushed with anger. My feelings for Brock were a delicate situation, a secret dance under the watchful eye of the alpha. Sage’s words were like a match tossed onto a tinderbox.

“Don’t even start, Sage,” I hissed, glaring at her. “You don’t know anything about it.”

But Sage just laughed, a light, tinkling sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Oh, I know more than you think,” she said, her smile turning predatory. “And that’s precisely why I’m here. To offer some… advice.”

Before I could retort, the ground beneath us seemed to shift. Brock materialized beside the table, a concerned frown creasing his forehead.

“Amelia, is everything alright?” he asked, his gaze flickering between me and Sage.

The dam within me burst. Sage’s taunting, the weight of my secret, the simmering anger from the near-death experience it all coalesced into a white-hot rage.

“No, Brock, everything’s not alright!” I practically spat, shoving myself out of the chair and towering over Sage.

Rage made me see red. Before anyone could react, I lashed out. My fist connected with Sage’s jaw with a sickening crunch. Her head snapped back, a surprised yelp escaping her lips.

Chaos erupted. People stopped dancing, their attention drawn to the sudden brawl. Music screeched to a halt, replaced by a collective gasp.

Sage stumbled back, a hand flying to her now-bleeding jaw. Rage contorted my features, but a flicker of horror flickered across them as I realized what I’d done.

“Amelia!” Brock roared, grabbing my arms and pulling me back. His grip was firm but gentle, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and disbelief.

I struggled against him, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Let me go!” I screamed, my voice ragged. “She deserved it!”

But Brock held me fast. The crowd around us parted, creating a circle around the unfolding scene. Logan materialized amidst them, his face a thundercloud.

“What in the world is going on here?” he boomed, his voice echoing in the sudden silence.

Gwen, alerted by the commotion, pushed her way through the crowd. Her face paled as she took in the scene the stunned Sage clutching her jaw, the blood blooming on her face, and me, a mess of fury and fear.

Shame washed over me, replacing the fading rage. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. Looking away from Logan’s disappointed gaze, I caught a glimpse of Brock’s face. It was a mixture of worry and something else… pity?

“Amelia,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “Let’s go. We need to talk.”

He didn’t wait for my reply, just gently steered me away from the scene, leaving behind the shocked whispers of the pack

Brock pulled me outside, the cool night air a welcome shock against my heated skin. We walked in a hurried silence until we reached a secluded clearing, where the only sound was the chirping of crickets and the frantic drumming of my heart.

Shame washed over me in a tidal wave. “Brock, I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, tears blurring my vision. “I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

He stopped, turning me gently to face him. The moonlight shining the concern etched on his features, his green eyes were softer than they usually get.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to my churning emotions. “Just take a deep breath.”

I did as he said, the cool air filling my lungs. But the knot of tension in my stomach remained.

His hand reached out, brushing a stray tear from my cheek. “Talk to me, Amelia. What happened in there?”

I hesitated, the memory of Sage’s taunts a bitter pill to swallow. But keeping it in felt suffocating. Taking another deep breath, I blurted out, “Sage… she was… she was making fun of me, of my feelings.”

The worry lines on Brock’s forehead deepened. “Your feelings? What do you mean?”

“About you,” I mumbled, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again. “She was… insinuating that I… that I was playing you.”

A chuckle escaped his lips, a warm, rumbling sound that sent a wave of relief washing over me. “Amelia,” he said, his voice filled with an unexpected tenderness. “Don’t listen to Sage. You wouldn’t play games like that.”

His words warmed me from the inside out. “But what if she’s right?” I whispered, the insecurity that had been gnawing at me for days finally finding its voice. “What if… what if you deserve someone stronger, someone…”

He cut me off, his hand coming to cup my cheek. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, momentarily chasing away the lingering shame.

“Listen to me,” he said, his gaze searching mine. “You are strong, Amelia. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. And as for what I deserve…”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my lips. “I deserve someone kind, someone brave, someone who sees me for who I truly am.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was he…?

The question never left my lips. He closed the gap between us, his lips meeting mine in a soft, unexpected kiss.

We pulled away slowly, foreheads resting together. My breath hitched in my throat, a million unspoken things swirling in my head.

“I… I should probably go,” I stammered, the sudden intimacy leaving me flustered.

He chuckled again, a soft, intimate sound. “Not yet, stay a little longer,” he said, pulling me closer into a warm embrace.