#Chapter 4: Crossing the Line

Amelia

The second Richard appeared, the room changed. The drunken laughter died off. The arrogant smirks vanished. People who had been acting like royalty themselves suddenly remembered who the actual king was. That’s how much power he held—just his presence could silence a room.

He didn’t say a word. Just looked at the table, then the half-empty glasses, then at me.

Jenny beat him to it, voice sharp and defensive. "Dad, why did you come here to ruin the vibes? We’re just having fun."

I tried to speak—tried to say I didn’t feel good, that I needed to sit down—but the words got tangled in my throat. Or maybe they came out and no one heard. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything, except the heat in my cheeks, the way the ground tilted slightly under my feet, and how heavy everything suddenly felt.

Maybe it was Richard being there. Maybe it was how drunk I clearly was. Whatever the reason, no one stopped me when I left.

I found a cushioned bench in a quiet hallway and collapsed onto it, pulling off my shoes and letting my head rest against the wall. My dress felt too tight, my skin too hot, and I couldn’t stop blinking like I was trying to wake up from something.

I grabbed my phone and hit Jenny’s name.

"Jenny? J-Jenny, you were there, right? I think—I think I drank too much."

She sighed. "Hun, you had two shots. You’re fine."

"No... I don’t feeeeel good."

"Okay. I’ll come check on you in a minute, okay?"

She hung up and I stared at the wall.

I didn’t have time to feel abandoned before I heard footsteps. A shadow, then a voice.

"There you are."

The guy from earlier. Jenny’s friend. The one who had tried to get me to drink. He was swaying slightly as he walked, eyes glassy and smile too wide.

I still didn’t know his name. Chad? Bryce? Something that sounded expensive and mean.

"You didn’t seem so good earlier," he said, crouching beside me. "But I gotta say, you’re lookin’ better now."

I shook my head, slow and clumsy. "I never drink," I muttered. "I don’t... I don’t like how this feels. I want to go home."

He laughed, too loud. "That’s ‘cause you’ve never been drunk with the right company."

I pulled back. He leaned in closer, the stench of alcohol hanging off him like a second skin.

"Jenny said you’re short on cash," he whispered, hands brushing my shoulders. "Come with me tonight. I’ll make it worth your while. Say a number."

"No," I snapped, or tried to. It came out soft. "Jenny told you—I have a boyfriend."

He laughed again. "A poor girl like you, still loyal? Cute."

I tried to stand, but my legs didn’t work right. I wobbled, slumped back down.

His hands stayed on me. Crawling. Exploring. The back of my dress. My thighs. The skin above my knee.

"C’mon," he slurred. "I’m not gonna hurt you. Let’s just have some fun."

"Stop," I said. "Please stop."

But it was like my voice was underwater.

He whispered in my ear, his breath sour. "Looks like that stuff worked fast. You’ll feel the benefits any second now."

My stomach dropped. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much. I felt him grab my thigh, fingers fumbling at the hem of my dress.

His hand started to lift the fabricand I could feel everything. Too much sensation, too much noise. My body was screaming inside, but nothing would come out.

And then—nothing.

He was gone and I was in someone’s arms.

I caught three things before everything slipped away: the sound of a punch, sharp and brutal. The cold marble floor, distant beneath me. And Richard’s face—tense, furious, and scared.

Then everything went black.

Richard

The second the door closed behind Jenny and Amelia, I finally allowed myself to breathe. But it didn’t help. My chest still felt tight, my skin still buzzed with heat, and worst of all—my wolf wouldn’t shut up.

You saw her. Felt her. She’s ours.

"No," I muttered, dragging a hand through my damp hair. "She’s Jenny’s best friend. That makes her untouchable."

Doesn’t change what she is.

"She already has a mate."

Not a real one, Storm growled. You know it. You felt it. Weak. Incomplete. But what we felt? That was real.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the conversation out of my head. I had work to do. Reports to finish. Decisions to make. I needed to focus.

But all I could see was the way she had looked back at me in that dress—eyes wide, chest heaving, mark exposed.

My wolf was restless now.

You’re just going to ignore it? Let our second chance disappear?

My jaw clenched. The phrase made something ache behind my ribs.

This wasn’t just bad. It was impossible. Amelia wasn’t just some girl. She was Jenny’s best friend. Practically family. What would it say about me? What would it do to her?

And Jenny—god, she was already too much like her mother. Beautiful, stubborn, always surrounding herself with people who only told her what she wanted to hear. And when I tried to talk to her, tried to step in, I became the villain. Just like her mother had painted me to be.

You care more about what Jenny might say than about your second chance? the wolf snapped.

I didn’t answer.

But my feet were already moving.

I didn’t have a plan. Just an unshakable feeling that something was wrong. The closer I got to the ballroom, the worse it got—a low thrum beneath my skin, a buzzing warning deep in my gut.

I walked in and the crowd froze. Laughter vanished. All eyes turned to me. That much, I was used to. But when I saw the half-empty glasses and the dazed expressions of some of the guests, my teeth clenched.

Jenny noticed and cut me off before I could say anything, trying to play it cool. But I could already feel my blood heating.

I turned on my heel, jaw locked, and started pacing the hall. I needed a second to cool off, to think. Then I saw him.

Down one of the side halls, slumped beside a half-conscious Amelia. One hand on her thigh. The other reaching for the hem of her dress and all I saw was red.

I don’t remember crossing the space between us. One moment he was touching her, and the next he was flying back, crashing against the wall with a thud. I didn’t even hear the punch—just felt the bone snap beneath my fist.

Amelia was limp, unresponsive. Her eyes half-lidded, her skin flushed and too warm.

"Amelia," I said, lifting her gently. "It’s okay. I’ve got you."

I held her close and carried her out of that vulture’s nest.

She wouldn’t be safe here. Not with people like that circling around. Immature, selfish children playing at power. I took her straight to my car.

"Prepare a sedative," I told my Beta over the phone. "And call ahead. Not the Pack House. My estate."

She whimpered when I tried to set her down in the backseat, arms tightening around my neck. Her breath was hot against my skin.

She shifted, legs wrapping around my hips, holding me in place.

Her mouth was near my ear.

"Please don’t leave me," she whispered.

I froze.

The scent of her hair was dizzying—faint rose and something wild underneath. I rubbed her back instinctively.

"It’s gonna be okay," I murmured. "Let’s just get in the car."

She moaned, low and needy, and clung to me even tighter.

Awkwardly, I sat down in the back seat with her still wrapped around me. The driver took off. She relaxed almost immediately. Her body slumped against mine, head on my shoulder.

But then her breathing changed. A different tension rolled off her. She shifted again. Her hips rocked slightly, grinding against me.

I swallowed hard. "Amelia? Are you alright? Are you feeling sick?"

Her coat had slipped from her shoulders. I caught it before it fell entirely and brushed my fingers over her skin to steady her.

She leaned up—closer than before. Her lips brushed my ear.

And without any hint of the shy girl I’d spoken to earlier, she whispered:

"I’m wet."

My grip on her tightened for just a second before I forced myself to go still.

I had no words. Just heat, and her breath, and the spiraling knowledge that everything had just changed.

And I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to stop it.