Ch. 5 HURT

Emily’s POV

The bar was alive with pulsing energy, the air filled with the scent of alcohol and the thrumming beat of the music. Yet amidst the lively crowd, I sat alone, my face flushed and my vision clouded by the sharp volume of beer bottles scattered across the tabletop.

I was drinking to drown out the pain and the sting of rejection that still lingered in my heart after my confrontation with the Parker family. My father's cruel words, the way he had disowned me and cast me out of his home—it was all too much to bear.

As I reached for another bottle, a pair of expensive boots caught my eye. Slowly, I lifted my gaze, only to find the striking figure of Alpha Michael approaching me. He looked different from the man I had encountered that morning—more polished, more handsome, with a small wolf tattoo peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

I glared at him, my expression one of cold indifference. I had no desire to entertain anyone, let alone the brother of the man I had accidentally stumbled upon earlier that day.

But Michael seemed undiscouraged, taking a seat beside me as his friends hovered like obedient henchmen. I ignored him, reaching for the bottle and preparing to take another swig, only to have him reach out and grasp my hand, preventing me from drinking.

"Let it go!" I snapped, my voice harsh.

"A beautiful damsel such as yourself shouldn't be drinking this much," he murmured, taking the bottle from my hand and taking a sip himself. "Why don't you let me keep you company instead?" His eyes sparkled with mischief as he extended his hand toward me.

I scoffed, my eyes narrowing. "It's none of your business," I retorted, my gaze burning into him. "Just leave me alone."

"I'm Michael Blackwood," he said, unbothered by my cold demeanor. "We met earlier today, in my car, with my brother." He leaned closer, his voice lowering to a seductive buzz. "And I'd love the chance to get to know you better, come have a dance with me."

I felt a shiver run down my spine, torn between the desire to give in to his charm and the need to push him away. This was the last thing I needed right now—an unwanted suitor, a distraction from the pain that consumed my very being.

With a heavy sigh, I steeled my resolve, determined to make it clear that I was not interested in his advances. "Are you deaf or something?" I inquired, my voice firm. "I'm not in the mood for this or for dancing, so why don't you take your little friends and leave me be?"

I made no move to take his outstretched hand, instead keeping my arms firmly crossed over my chest, creating a silent barrier between us. The last thing I wanted was to be swept up in his games, no matter how alluring his invitation might have seemed.

Michael's expression shifted, a flash of embarrassment crossing his features as I rebuffed his advances in front of his friends. I could see the anger bubbling beneath the surface, and his companions were quick to capitalize on his wounded pride.

"It looks like you have lost your game, dude," one of them sneered. "Can't even handle one little omega?"

Another let out a derisive laugh. "I'm disappointed in you, man. I thought you'd be able to charm your way into her pants, but I guess you are just not up to the task."

Michael's grip on the beer bottle tightened, his knuckles turning white. Without warning, he reached out and seized my wrist, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You will apologize for disrespecting an Alpha," he hissed, "Before things get out of hand."

In that moment, I felt a wave of adrenaline course through me. I may have been smaller and weaker, but I refused to tremble in the face of his anger. With a swift, practiced motion, I twisted my hand in his grip, reaching for the nearest empty bottle.

Before Michael could react, I swung the bottle with all my might, the resounding crack as it connected with his head sending shards of glass flying. He retreated, his grip on me loosening as he reached up to touch the bleeding wound.

The bar erupted into chaos as his friends came forward, their faces twisted with rage.

"How dare you!" they shouted, lunging towards me.

Without hesitation, I grabbed two more bottles, brandishing them like makeshift weapons. "Stay back!" I yelled, my voice barely audible over the noise of the fighting pack members.

All around us, the once-lively bar had descended into chaos. Tables were overturned, glasses shattered, and bodies collided as the Demontail Pack members turned on each other, driven by the potent mix of alcohol and wounded pride.

***

The fluorescent lights of the Demontail police station shone a harsh, clinical glow over the battered and bruised figures huddled around the desk. Michael, his jacket torn and his shirt stained with blood, sat with his friends, their voices raised in a noise of complaints.

One of them was glaring in my direction, his finger pointed accusingly. "That bitch is the one who attacked us! We never wanted to harm her."

I sat in silence, my expression blank, even as the alcohol still clouded my senses. The police officer turned to me, his brow furrowed.

"Is this true, Miss?" he asked. "Did you start the altercation at the bar?"

I merely stared back at him, refusing to offer a defense. Let them stew in their own lies and accusations – I had no energy left to fight.

The officer turned his attention back to Michael and his friends, who continued to bicker and argue, each trying to shift the blame for the chaos that had erupted at the bar. The noise was grating, and I could see the officer's frustration mounting, his hands running through his hair in exasperation.

"Can someone please give me something to work with here?" he pleaded, but his words were drowned out by the continued noise.

Suddenly, the doors of the police station burst open, and a towering figure strode in, exuding an aura of authority. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the imposing presence of Alpha James, flanked by two muscular warriors.

Michael's face twisted into a grimace as he spotted his brother. "What the hell is he doing here?" he demanded of the officer.

The officer sighed, a hint of resignation in his voice. "I called him here to help resolve this matter, as the elder and more responsible member of the royal family."

Michael slammed his hand on the desk, his frustration intense. "You shouldn’t have called him," he growled, his eyes narrowing as Alpha James approached.