The inky blackness of the night pressed in on Brandon as he halted before the familiar silhouette of their childhood home. A chill, deeper than the autumn air, snaked down his spine. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his inner turmoil. As he traced the outline of the porch with his gaze, the front door creaked open, revealing Theo silhouetted in the dim light.
“Brandon?” Theo’s voice, laced with a mixture of surprise and suspicion, cut through the stillness. He stepped onto the porch, his figure gradually emerging from the shadows.
The brothers stood facing each other, the years stretching between them like a chasm.
“How is she?” Brandon’s voice was barely a whisper, the question hanging heavy in the air. The single porch light illuminated his face, revealing the worry etched deep into his features.
Theo’s lips curled into a smirk, a cruel twist of amusement playing on his features. “Stop worrying about her, Brandon,” He said, his voice hardening. He took a step closer, his shadow falling over Brandon. “You should be thinking about Daisha, not Stella.” He paused, taking a deep breath to control the simmering rage within him.
“I know,” Brandon mumbled, his gaze dropping to the ground. “But I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Theo’s patience snapped. He grabbed Brandon’s shirt, his fingers digging into the fabric.
The sudden movement startled Brandon, but he didn’t flinch.
Theo’s eyes blazed with a possessive fury. “She’s mine now, Brandon!” he hissed, his teeth bared in a snarl.
Brandon met Theo’s gaze, a slow smirk spreading across his face. It wasn’t a smirk of triumph, but one of quiet defiance, tinged with a hint of something darker. “Why are you so afraid, Theo?” he challenged, his voice low and steady. “Do you really think she’ll choose me over you?”
Theo’s laughter was harsh, devoid of mirth. He yanked his hand away from Brandon’s shirt, leaving the fabric slightly rumpled. “Do you think I’m afraid of your shits, Brandon?” he scoffed, his gaze sweeping the deserted street. The streetlights cast long, distorted shadows, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. He clapped Brandon on the shoulder, the gesture oddly devoid of warmth. “Dad’s not on your side anymore,” Theo said, his voice low and menacing.
“What do you mean?” Brandon’s question was sharp, laced with a sudden, chilling premonition.
Theo’s smirk twisted into something cruel. “When you walked away from that agreement with Stella-that pathetic attempt to salvage your pride-Dad asked me to save the family from the shame you brought upon us.” He turned his back to Brandon, and began to walk away, his shoulders rigid with a newfound confidence.
“Where are you going?” Brandon called out, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest.
Theo didn’t answer, merely tossed a careless glance over his shoulder, his smirk widening. “You don’t need to know,” he said, his voice fading into the night.
Brandon stared at the old house, its darkened windows like vacant eyes. The image of Stella, her face etched with worry and confusion, flashed in his mind. He imagined her reaction if he decided to walk in, the potential for a scene to erupt within those familiar walls. He shuddered. “She might freak out,” he muttered to himself, the words barely audible above the night’s quiet hum.
He remained perched on his powerful motorcycle for several minutes, the engine’s low thrum a counterpoint to the turmoil within him.
The cool night air did little to soothe the burning resentment and regret that gnawed at him.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, he kicked the bike into gear, the roar of the engine momentarily eclipsing the silence of the night. As the powerful bike vibrated beneath him, Brandon felt a prickling sensation at the nape of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder, his heart skipping a beat. A shadow, tall and indistinct, stood in the darkness behind him.
“Are you leaving now?”
The voice, soft yet clear, was Stella’s. He turned, the engine’s rumble momentarily subsiding. There she stood, bathed in the faint glow of the porch light, her face pale and etched with a mixture of worry and something else… something that made his breath catch in his throat.
“I thought you were asleep,” Brandon said, his voice rougher than he intended.
Stella ran a hand across her cheek, her touch gentle. “I slept for hours,” she replied, her voice a low murmur. “But I couldn’t stay in bed anymore. The silence… It was too much.”
“My brother just left,” Brandon said, the words hanging in the air between them. He watched as Stella nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on him.
A faint smile played on her lips, a fleeting expression that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. “Yes,” she whispered, her gaze intense. “He said goodbye.” Her eyes held a depth he’d never seen before, a complex mix of emotions he couldn’t quite decipher.
Stella was thinking… thinking about Brandon. About the things she liked, the things that drew her to him despite his timidity, his awkward silences in her presence.
The intensity of her gaze caught Brandon off guard. He felt a blush creep up his neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, his voice a barely audible whisper.
“I need to tell you something,” Stella said, her voice low and steady.
Brandon nodded, his gaze fixed on her face, a mixture of apprehension and anticipation swirling within him. “Go on,” he urged, his voice barely a whisper.
Stella took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slightly as she gathered her courage. The streetlights cast a soft glow on her face, highlighting the determination etched in her features. “I hope this is the last time we see each other,” she said, each word precise and deliberate. “You should focus on my sister,” she continued, her voice unwavering. “Treat her with the respect and attention she deserves. Don’t let her feel unwanted, like you made me feel. You chose her, Brandon, before I ever came into your life. Now, do your part.”
The words hit Brandon like a physical blow. He was speechless, his mind reeling from the unexpected gravity of her pronouncements. He hadn’t anticipated this conversation, this raw honesty, this finality. “Did Daisha tell you that-” he began, but Stella cut him off, her voice firm.
“I don’t need her to tell me,” she interrupted, her eyes meeting him with unwavering intensity. “I can feel it.” There was no mistaking the conviction in her voice, the quiet certainty that resonated deeply within her words.
Brandon nodded, unable to deny the truth in her statement. The weight of his actions, his indecision, pressed down on him. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely a breath.
The words felt inadequate, insufficient to express the turmoil within him. He reached for the ignition, the cold metal a stark contrast to the burning emotions coursing through him.
Brandon’s taillights disappeared down the street, leaving Stella standing alone in the shadows. She watched until the red glow was nothing more than a distant pinpoint of light swallowed by the night.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips, a sound lost in the stillness of the air. “Why are you acting like you have feelings for me?” she whispered to herself, the question hanging unanswered in the cool night air. With a sigh, she turned and walked back towards the house, the weight of her decision settling heavily upon her shoulders.
Meanwhile, Brandon pulled into the sprawling driveway of the mansion, the imposing structure looming large against the night sky. He cut the engine of his powerful bike, the sudden silence amplifying the quiet hum of the night. As he dismounted and wheeled his bike into the garage, a familiar figure emerged from the darkness.
“I guess you’re done with your little shits now,” Theo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He leaned against the garage door frame, his arms crossed, a smug expression playing on his lips.
Brandon’s irritation flared. “Why are you always showing up?” he snapped, his voice tight with frustration.
The lingering scent of Stella’s perfume clung to his clothes, a constant reminder of the night’s events.
“Why are you always looking for Stella?” Theo countered, his tone challenging. He pushed himself off the doorframe, his movements fluid and deliberate.
Brandon glared at his brother, his jaw tight. The question felt like an accusation, a judgment. “Because I need to talk to her,” he responded, his voice low and controlled.
Theo’s smirk widened. “You don’t need to talk to her,” he said, his voice laced with a chilling certainty. “Your business with her is finished.” He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.
Brandon decided against engaging with his brother, his silence a potent response in itself. He turned and walked towards the imposing entrance of the mansion, the heavy oak door a symbol of the family’s wealth and, perhaps, its dysfunction. But before he could reach the threshold, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, spinning him around to face Theo.
“If you try to show up at our house again,” Theo hissed, his voice dangerously low, “I swear to God, it’ll be your last.” The threat hung in the air, raw and palpable.
Brandon reacted instantly, shoving Theo’s hand away with a force that spoke volumes of his simmering anger. “Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me. Again,” He spat, his teeth gritted, his voice a low growl. He didn’t wait for a response, striding away with a purposeful gait, leaving Theo standing alone in the hallway, his face a mask of simmering rage.
Theo watched his brother disappear, his eyes narrowed. He was still seething when Alpha Raven appeared in the doorway, his presence a calming influence in the tense atmosphere.
“Why are you two always fighting?” Alpha Raven asked, his voice laced with weariness. He looked from Theo to the spot where Brandon had vanished.
“Ask your precious son,” Theo retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. “He doesn’t know his boundaries. He doesn’t respect anything.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turned and walked away, leaving Alpha Raven to ponder the complexities of his sons’ relationship.
Meanwhile, Stella waited patiently in the opulent living room, the soft glow of the lamps casting a warm light on the plush furnishings.
The main door creaked open, announcing Theo’s arrival. He saw her immediately, his expression softening slightly. “Oh, you’re waiting for me?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. He approached her, his movements less tense than before.
“Of course,” Stella replied, her voice gentle. “You need to rest.” She rose to her feet, her concern evident in her eyes.
Theo nodded, his gaze meeting hers. He reached out, gently patting her shoulder. “You should rest too,” he said, his voice softer now, a hint of genuine affection in his tone. He offered a small, tired smile. “Good night,” he added, the words a quiet promise of peace in the midst of the family’s ongoing turmoil.
Stella retreated to her room, the plush carpet cushioning her footsteps as she walked towards her bed. She sank onto the mattress, the soft fabric enveloping her like a comforting embrace. But the comfort was fleeting. Her mind, despite her best efforts, kept returning to Brandon, replaying their last encounter.
“Stop thinking about him!” she muttered to herself, her voice barely a whisper lost in the quietude of her room. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the turmoil within, but the image of his face, his eyes, his hesitant smile, remained stubbornly imprinted on her mind.
The following day dawned, bringing with it the usual bustle of activity within the pack.
Alpha Raven had called a meeting, and the main hall of the mansion slowly filled with the pack members, their voices a low hum of anticipation and conversation.
Remus, ever observant, arrived and surveyed the scene. His eyes fell upon Daisha, engaged in conversation with her co-workers, her laughter a bright thread in the tapestry of the gathering.
Alpha Raven, noticing Remus’s arrival, approached him, his voice a low rumble that cut through the general chatter. “Theo will be here with Stella,” he informed him, his tone matter-of-fact.
Remus nodded, his gaze lingering on Daisha. “I saw my daughters talking to each other,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “I think they’ve patched things up.”
Alpha Raven offered a small, weary smile. “Good for them,” he replied. “But my sons… they’re a different story. They’re still at each other’s throats.” His words were barely out when Theo and Stella entered the hall together, their presence immediately shifting the atmosphere.
At the same moment, Brandon arrived, his entrance solitary and understated. He moved towards his father, Alpha Raven, his demeanor reserved.
Remus, his eyes sharp and perceptive, didn’t waste any time. “Is something wrong between you and Daisha?” he asked directly, his voice leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Brandon hesitated for only a moment before answering. “We’re… taking a break,” he replied, his voice carefully neutral. The answer was vague, insufficient, and Remus’s gaze intensified.
“I hope you’re not hurting her,” Remus said, his tone serious, his eyes conveying a warning that left no room for doubt.