Caught Between Them

The crisp morning air whipped through my hair as I circled Sage on the training ground. Unlike the playful sparring I had with Brock, this felt different. There was a tension in the air, a silent challenge crackling between us.

“Ready?” Sage asked, her voice devoid of its usual playful lilt.

I met her gaze, my own burning with a competitive fire. “Always.”

With a swift movement, she lunged forward, her hand aiming for a pressure point on my shoulder. I barely dodged in time, the air whispering past my ear as I rolled away, adrenaline surging through me.

Sage was unlike any opponent I’d ever faced. Her movements were fluid and controlled, her attacks calculated. Unlike Brock’s brute strength, Sage relied on precise strikes and lightning-fast reflexes.

We danced around each other, a deadly ballet of feints and parries. My frustration mounted with every blocked punch and missed kick. This wasn’t a sparring session; it was a one-sided beatdown.

“You fight like a cornered animal,” Sage taunted, her voice a cold whisper. “Full of fury, but lacking in finesse.”

Her words stung, but they also sparked a stubborn fire within me. Refusing to give in, I redoubled my efforts, attacking with a ferocity that surprised even me.

The clatter of wooden practice swords filled the air as we clashed. Sweat beaded on my forehead, blurring my vision, but I kept pushing, fueled by a desperate need to land a hit, any hit.

Suddenly, an opening appeared. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunged forward, aiming a powerful punch at Sage’s face. Time seemed to slow down as my fist connected with a sickening crunch.

A sharp cry escaped Sage’s lips, her hand flying to her nose. Blood, crimson red, stained her fingers as she stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock and pain.

I froze, the triumph evaporating from my victory as fast as morning dew. My gut twisted with a mixture of guilt and confusion. Did I just break Sage’s nose?

Sage, however, didn’t seem too fazed by the injury. She straightened up, a bloody grin spreading across her face. “Well, that was unexpected,” she chuckled, a wet gurgle escaping her now-broken nose. “Looks like the omega finally landed a lucky punch.”

Omega? My jaw clenched tight. Omega was the lowest rank in the pack, the weakest, the most subservient. The word felt like a slap across the face, I was no omega, even Logan knew that.

“Don’t worry,” Sage continued, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Even a broken nose can’t hold a true warrior back for long.”

Before I could retort, she lunged forward again, her movements fueled by a newfound ferocity. This time, her attacks weren’t as precise, but they were fueled by rage.

I braced myself for the onslaught, determined to defend myself without resorting to another cheap shot. The next few minutes were a blur of pain and exertion. Sage rained blows on me, her strikes relentless.

I blocked what I could, taking hits on my arms and shoulders. My vision swam, the taste of blood metallic on my tongue. But I refused to give up.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take another hit, Sage faltered. Her movements, which had been filled by anger, slowed, replaced by a grimace of pain. She clutched her side, breathing heavily.

“Looks like someone’s getting tired,” I rasped, my voice hoarse. It wasn’t a victory cry, but a simple statement of fact.

Sage glared at me, her one good eye blazing with fury. “This isn’t over, Amelia,” she growled, her voice thick with pain. “Not by a long shot.”

With that, she turned and stumbled away, disappearing into the trees like a wounded animal.

I stood there, panting, the training ground a silent battlefield. My body ached, my shoulder screamed pain.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled me. I turned to see Brock jogging towards me, his face etched with concern.

“What happened?” he asked, his eyes scanning my battered form. “Are you alright?”

I managed a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little… sparring session that got a bit out of hand.”

Brock’s gaze narrowed as he looked towards the direction where Sage had disappeared. “Where’d she go?”

I hesitated, torn between honesty and loyalty. “She… she had to leave,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Brock’s brow furrowed. “Leave? Just like that? Did you guys get into a fight?”

My stomach churned. I couldn’t tell the suspicions I felt about Sage? About the taunts, the ownage, the broken nose, and the gut-wrenching feeling of landing a lucky punch? It felt like a betrayal, a glimpse into a part of the pack I wasn’t supposed to see. Yet, the silence felt heavy too.

“It was… intense,” I finally admitted, wincing at the understatement. “We didn’t exactly see eye to eye on training methods.”

Brock’s jaw clenched. “Sage can be… unconventional. But she wouldn’t hurt you for no reason, Amelia.”

His words felt like a jab. Unconventional? She’d practically turned me into a human punching bag. “Let’s just say,” I said carefully, “I learned a valuable lesson about finesse today.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if something’s going on, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I mumbled, feeling a wave of gratitude for his concern. But could I really tell him everything? About the cryptic comments, the way she seemed to know about… well, about things she shouldn’t?

“Maybe later,” I deflected, mustering a weak smile. “Right now, I could really use a shower and a nap. Maybe even a full-body massage.”

Brock chuckled, a familiar sound that sent a warmth through me despite the pounding in my head. “Sounds like a plan. How about we grab some breakfast first? Logan might have something to say about all this.”

The thought of facing Logan with my bruised ego and the unspoken tension between Sage and me filled me with dread. “Maybe later,” I pleaded. “I just need some… alone time to process the… finesse lesson.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching my face. Finally, he nodded, a hint of disappointment in his gaze. “Alright. But don’t stay cooped up all day. We’re a pack, remember? We take care of each other.”This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

With a final squeeze of my shoulder careful not to touch any of my tender spots he turned and headed towards the pack house.