Caught Between Them

The sun beat down mercilessly, turning the training grounds into a furnace. Sweat plastered my hair to my forehead, stinging my eyes. My muscles screamed in protest with each swing of the wooden sword, but I pushed myself harder. Every clang against the practice dummy was a silent scream, a release of the frustration simmering beneath my skin.

Brock, my infuriatingly handsome tormentor, parried my blows with practiced ease. His green eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, held a hint of seriousness today. Every so often, his gaze would flicker towards the entrance of the training grounds, sending a jolt through me.

“Enough for now, Amelia,” he finally said, disarming me with a swift flick of his wrist. “You’re going to tire yourself out before tonight.”

My breath hitched. “Tonight?”

A slow smirk spread across his face. “Didn’t Gwen tell you? Logan’s throwing a little get-together to welcome the new arrival.”

My grip tightened on the hilt of the practice sword. “New arrival?”

“Yeah,” Brock confirmed, his voice devoid of its usual playful lilt. “Some rogue she-wolf who escaped her pack. Apparently, she’s a looker.”

My stomach churned. A beautiful she-wolf seeking refuge? This couldn’t be good. Images of captivating emerald eyes and a flawless figure danced in my mind, fueled by Brock’s nonchalant description.

“Great,” I mumbled, tossing the practice sword aside with more force than necessary.

“Jealous much?” Brock teased, his smirk widening.

I glared at him. “Jealous? Why would I be jealous of some stray mutt who probably doesn’t even know how to hold a sword properly?”

Brock’ eyebrow shot up. “Is that right? Then why are you practically fuming?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “I am not fuming,” I lied, my voice laced with a defensiveness I couldn’t quite control.

“Uh-huh,” Brock chuckled, his amusement evident. “Just keep that fire under control tonight. Remember, Logan is the one introducing her.”

His words felt like a punch to the gut. The truth was, I wasn’t sure whose attention bothered me more Sage’s supposed interest in Brock, or Logan’s sudden eagerness to introduce her.

Later that evening, the pack house buzzed with an unusual energy. Laughter and chatter filled the air, a stark contrast to the usual stoic demeanor of most werewolves. I found myself lingering by the doorway, observing the scene with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

In the center of the room stood Logan, a wide smile plastered on his face. Beside him, a woman with cascading raven hair and eyes the color of twilight held his gaze. Even from a distance, her beauty was undeniable. Her figure was lithe and graceful, clad in simple leather pants and a tunic that accentuated her curves.

Sage, I presumed.

The way Logan held her gaze, the lingering touch on her arm a pang of something akin to betrayal shot through me. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to take a deep breath. It was ridiculous to feel this way. I didn’t love Logan. He was just a friend, a confidante. But the possessiveness bubbling inside me refused to be quelled.

Gwen, ever the observant one, materialized beside me. “Well, well, well,” she drawled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Someone seems to be having a silent meltdown.”

I shot her a withering look. “I am not having a meltdown.”

“Uh-huh,” she mimicked, nudging me with her elbow. “So, what do you think of the new competition?”

“Competition?” I scoffed. “She’s just some lost pup Logan decided to take pity on.”

Gwen’s lips twitched. “Lost pup, huh? Interesting choice of words, considering you were the one who… well, let’s just say helped Logan become less, er, interested in the female population.”

My cheeks burned again. “That was different.”

“Different how?” she pressed, her voice laced with amusement.

“It was… a mistake,” I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Gwen’s laughter filled the air, light and carefree. “A delicious mistake, wouldn’t you say?”

Before I could retort, Logan and Sage approached us. Logan’s smile faltered slightly when he saw me, but he quickly recovered.

“Amelia,” he said, his voice warm. “This is Sage. Sage, this is Amelia, one of our best trackers.”

Sage extended a hand towards me, a dazzling smile gracing her lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amelia.”

Her voice was soft, melodic, and strangely familiar. I shook her hand, feeling an inexplicable chill course through me. Her touch sent a jolt through my system, a mixture of something akin to fear and…something else.

“Likewise,” I managed, forcing a smile. My voice sounded strained to my own ears.

Sage’s gaze lingered on my face for a beat too long, her eyes searching mine with an intensity that made me squirm. Then, her attention shifted to Brock, who had just entered the room.

His eyes, as predicted, landed directly on Sage. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he schooled his expression into a neutral mask.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice a low drawl. “If it isn’t the rogue we’ve all been hearing about.”Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

Sage’s smile remained dazzling, but a hint of wariness crept into her eyes. “The one and only,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of defiance.

The atmosphere in the room crackled with a strange tension. It was as if a silent battle of wills was taking place, an unspoken challenge between Sage and Brock.

Logan, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, attempted to lighten the mood. “Brock, why don’t you show Sage around? Familiarize her with the pack grounds?”

Brock’s green eyes flickered to mine for a fleeting moment, a silent question hanging in the air. Then, with a nod, he turned to Sage.

“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing towards the door.

Sage cast a lingering glance at me before following Brock out of the room. My stomach churned. It was absurd how quickly I felt threatened by this newcomer.

The rest of the evening was a blur. I tried to engage in conversations, force a smile, but my mind kept replaying the scene with Sage and Brock. Her undeniable beauty, the way she looked at him, the electricity that seemed to crackle between them it all fueled a fire of jealousy within me.

Later that night, as I lay restless in my bed, Gwen finally spilled the tea.

“So,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “what do you think of our new guest?”

“She’s… beautiful,” I admitted grudgingly.

“Stunning,” Gwen corrected. “Like a goddess sculpted by the moon itself.”

“And completely out of my league,” I muttered, burying my face in the pillow.

Gwen chuckled. “Oh, Amelia, don’t be ridiculous. You’re just as beautiful, if not more. But beauty isn’t everything, is it?”

“Apparently, it goes a long way,” I sighed.

“Not with the right person,” Gwen said, her voice serious. “Brock isn’t exactly known for his shallowness.”

A flicker of hope ignited within me. “You think so?”

“I do,” Gwen affirmed. “But you better make your move soon, girl. This Sage seems to be playing a different game.”

Her words echoed in my mind as I drifted off to sleep, a battle raging within me. Fear of rejection warred with a newfound determination. I couldn’t let this beautiful newcomer waltz in and steal the man I secretly loved.