Caught Between Them

I woke up with a start, my head throbbing and my vision blurry. The pain in my skull was sharp, but the overwhelming sense of dread was sharper. I struggled to sit up, my hands and feet bound tightly, and tried to make sense of my surroundings. Dim light filtered through cracked windows, casting shadows on the walls of what looked like an old, abandoned warehouse.

Just then, I heard a familiar voice in my head. Brock.

“Amelia, where are you?”

Relief and panic mingled in my chest. I focused on our bond, trying to project my thoughts clearly. “I don’t know the exact location. It’s a warehouse. It’s old and looks abandoned.”

There was a brief pause before Brock’s voice came through again, calm but laced with urgency. “There are hundreds of warehouses around here, Amelia. But I can track your scent. Hold on. Logan and I are coming to get you.”

The telepathic link went quiet, and I was left with my racing thoughts and the oppressive silence of the warehouse. The faint sounds of the city outside were a distant reminder of how far I was from home, from safety. I closed my eyes, trying to stay calm and focus on the bond with Brock. If anyone could find me, it was him.

I strained against the ropes binding my wrists, trying to loosen them without much success. The rough material bit into my skin, but the pain kept me grounded. I had to stay strong. For Reagan, for Brock, for all of us.

Footsteps echoed in the distance, growing louder. I tensed, trying to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible. The door creaked open, and Vincent strolled in, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Ah, Amelia, awake at last,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

I glared at him, saying nothing.

“No need to be so hostile,” he continued, circling me like a predator. “I was beginning to think you’d miss the main event.”

“What do you want, Vincent?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

He stopped in front of me, his smile widening. “Oh, I think you know. But let’s not rush things. We have time.”

I bit back a retort, knowing that provoking him wouldn’t help. Instead, I focused on Brock’s voice in my head, a lifeline in this nightmare.

“Brock, please hurry,” I thought, hoping he could sense my desperation.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. Vincent’s men came and went, their movements a blur as I fought to keep my mind clear. I couldn’t afford to lose hope now.

Finally, I felt a faint warmth through the bond with Brock. He was close. I clung to that feeling, using it to keep my spirits up.

“Hold on, Amelia. We’re almost there,” Brock’s voice echoed in my mind.

The door opened again, and Vincent walked in, his expression darkening when he saw my defiance. “Still so stubborn,” he said, shaking his head. “You should be more cooperative, for your own sake.”

I didn’t respond, focusing on the bond with Brock instead. I could feel him getting closer, his presence, comforting against the fear.

Vincent’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. He crouched down in front of me, his face inches from mine. “I wonder how much longer you can hold out,” he murmured, his tone menacing.

Just then, a distant crash echoed through the warehouse, followed by shouts and the sound of footsteps. Vincent’s eyes narrowed, and he stood up abruptly.

“What the hell is going on?” he barked, turning towards the door.

The next few moments were a chaotic blur. The door burst open, and Brock and Logan charged in, their eyes blazing with fury. Vincent’s men tried to intervene, but they were no match for the two werewolves in full protective mode.

“Amelia!” Brock shouted, his voice a mix of relief and anger.

“Brock!” I called back, my heart soaring at the sight of him.

Vincent snarled, grabbing me roughly by the arm. “You think you can just take her?” he spat, his grip tightening painfully.

Before he could react, Logan tackled him, knocking him to the ground. Brock was at my side in an instant, his hands gentle but urgent as he untied the ropes binding me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.

“I’m fine,” I managed to say, my voice shaking. “Just get me out of here. We need to get Reagan too.” I said and he nodded.

“Already got her, she is in the SUV”

He lifted me to my feet, supporting me as we hurried towards the door. Logan was still grappling with Vincent, but he shouted after us, “Go! I’ll handle this!”

We didn’t need to be told twice. Brock and I sprinted out of the warehouse, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. We didn’t stop until we were a safe distance away, the sounds of the city buzzing around us.

Brock pulled me into a tight embrace, his body trembling with relief. “I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“You found me,” I whispered back, clinging to him. “You always find me.”

Brock led me through the warehouse, he cut down anyone who tried to stop us and I find myself wondering when I get to marry this guy. We turned the corner to meet Logan pointing a gun at Reagan’s head. My eyes widened beside me Brock narrowed his eyes.

“What’s his Logan?” He growled and Logan shrugged.

“What does this look like?” He countered and Brock clenched his fist.

“Where’s Vincent?” Brock asked and Logan tilted his head, pressing his gun harder into Reagan’s head who whimpered.

“Ran. His not even my problem, you both are” he said and Brock narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean” he said and Logan’s smile widened.

“Oh Brock, tell me. When did you begin fucking Amelia my mate” he said.