Caught Between Them

Brock and I patrolled the perimeter of the pack territory. The air hung heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the hoot of an owl. “How many have you seen?” Brock asked, his voice a low murmur. We walked shoulder to shoulder, a comfortable silence usually settling between us during these patrols. But tonight, the recent rogue sightings had replaced the usual easy camaraderie with a tense alertness. “Three in the past week,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “Always at the same spot, near the western border.” Brock frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. “That’s unusual. Rogues rarely come this close to established pack territory, especially not this frequently.” “I know,” I said, voicing the unease that had been gnawing at me. “It’s… unsettling.” We continued walking in silence, the rhythmic crunch of our boots on fallen leaves the only sound. My gaze darted nervously around the dense foliage, searching for any sign of movement. The memory of my near-death encounter with the rogue pack was still fresh, a chilling reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the pack’s borders. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” Brock’s voice broke the silence, his keen eyes studying my face. My heart skipped a beat. Had he sensed my hesitation? “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “You’re not telling me everything,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “There’s something you’re not saying about the rogues.” I hesitated, caught between honesty and the fear of revealing too much. The image of Sage, transformed into a wolf, fighting alongside me, flashed in my mind. Could I tell Brock about her? About her cryptic behavior and the nagging suspicion that she was somehow involved with the rogues? “It’s just… there’s been something else,” I finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “During the last encounter… I felt like… maybe one of them wasn’t a regular rogue.” “What do you mean?” Brock asked, his voice laced with curiosity. “I don’t know how to explain it,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice. “It was just… a feeling. But one of the rogues seemed different, almost… controlled.” Brock’s jaw clenched. “Controlled? Like it was following orders?” “Maybe,” I said, the uncertainty in my voice mirroring the confusion in my head. “But that’s just crazy, right? Rogues are wild animals. They don’t follow orders.” Brock didn’t reply for a moment, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the forest. “There are rumors,” he finally said, his voice low. “Whispers of a rogue alpha, one who’s been gathering strays, building a formidable pack.” A shiver ran down my spine. A rogue alpha? The very notion sent a jolt of fear through me. Rogues were dangerous enough, but a coordinated pack under the leadership of a rogue alpha? That was a whole new level of threat. “Do you think that’s what we’re dealing with here?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Brock shrugged, a grim expression on his face. “It’s possible. But without more information, it’s just speculation.” We continued our patrol in a tense silence, the weight of the new information pressing down on us. Just when I thought things couldn’t get more complicated, the possibility of a rogue alpha added another layer of uncertainty to the already volatile situation. As we reached the end of the patrol route, Brock stopped and turned to face me. His gaze was serious, his blue eyes filled with concern. “Amelia,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Whatever you’re not telling me, it’s important. You need to trust me. We can face this together, but only if we’re honest with each other.” My heart hammered against my ribs. He was right. Honesty was the best policy, but the fear of revealing too much about Sage and the suspicion swirling in my head held me back. “I…” I began, my voice trailing off. Could I confide in him about Sage? About the fight, the intervention, and the unsettling feeling that she was playing a game I didn’t understand? Before I could voice my doubts, a twig snapped in the distance. My head whipped around, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. The air crackled with a sudden tension. “Stay here,” Brock murmured, his voice low and urgent. He moved towards the sound, his hand instinctively reaching for the hunting knife strapped My breath hitched in my throat. “Brock, wait!” I whispered urgently, the urge to follow him warring with the fear of being left alone. He paused, turning back to me with a questioning look. Concern flickered in his blue eyes, a stark contrast to the determined set of his jaw. “Stay put,” he repeated, his voice firm but leaving no room for argument. “I’ll check it out and be right back.” Before I could protest further, he vanished into the dense foliage, the rustle of leaves masking the sound of his footsteps. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, fear gnawing at my insides. Alone in the darkness, the forest seemed to come alive with unseen noises the rustle of unseen creatures, the hoot of an owl, the snap of a twig under an unknown weight. My imagination conjured images of lurking figures and glowing eyes, each sound amplifying my anxiety. Minutes stretched into an eternity. Every rustle, every snap of a twig made me jump, the silence between noises amplifying my fear. The moonlight, once a comforting presence, now cast an eerie glow on the forest floor, making the shadows seem to writhe and twist. Just as my anxieties reached a fever pitch, a familiar figure emerged from the darkness. Relief washed over me in a wave, momentary and sweet. “Brock,” I breathed, rushing towards him. “Thank goodness you’re alright!” He gave me a reassuring smile, but his eyes held a hint of worry. “False alarm,” he said, his voice calm. “Just a curious deer.” I didn’t completely believe him, but I chose not to press. The tension of the night was taking its toll, and I didn’t want to add to it. “Let’s get back,” I said, clinging to his arm a little tighter than necessary. He didn’t seem to mind, his hand finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Something’s bothering you, Amelia,” Brock said, his voice soft but perceptive. He stopped walking, turning to face me. His gaze held a gentle insistence that made it difficult to lie. The words tumbled out in a rush the nagging feeling about the rogue encounter, the unsettling difference in one of the rogues, and the suspicion that Sage was somehow involved. I confessed everything, omitting only the details about seeing Sage transformed into a wolf. Brock listened patiently, his brow furrowed in thought. When I finished, he remained silent for a moment, digesting the information. “It’s a lot to take in,” he finally said, his voice thoughtful. “There could be a logical explanation for the rogue’s behavior, but the possibility of a rogue alpha can’t be ignored. We need to tell Logan.” Relief washed over me. Finally, I wouldn’t have to shoulder this burden alone. “Yes, we should,” I agreed, a flicker of hope sparking up in meThis is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.