Chapter 5 MY MATES

Amelia's POV

Before I could breathe, before I could even react, someone grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me into the shadows.

"Let go!" I screamed, jerking against their hold, heart still thudding from the impact of what just happened.

But then I saw her.

"Dixie?" I gasped.

She stood there, breathing heavily, her shoulders heaving with panic. Her wide eyes shimmered under the streetlight. Her fingers clutched my arm like her life depended on it.

"Are you out of your freaking mind?" she snapped, her voice trembling, not from anger, but from fear. "Do you know who that man is?"

I blinked, still dazed. "What? Who, why did you drag me away like that? What's going on?"

"You shouldn't talk to him. You shouldn't even see his face!"

"Why?" I demanded, my voice cracking, eyes burning. "Why are you saying this? Who the hell is he?"

Her lips parted, then closed again. Her jaw clenched. She looked away, like even saying his name would summon something dark and dangerous.

"I can't say," she muttered. "But you... you just have to stay away. Please."

I stepped back from her, the ache in my chest returning like a tidal wave. "Even if I'm not talking to him, so what? Why do you care? Just leave me alone!"

She flinched, but didn't let go of my wrist.

"I want to die, Dixie. Just let me die. I deserve it," I whispered.

Her eyes widened with horror. "Amelia, don't-"

"No!" My voice broke as tears poured freely down my cheeks. "You don't understand. I couldn't save my mom. I did everything. Do you even know what I did for that money?" My voice dropped to a whisper, haunted and ashamed. "I gave away my body. My first time. To that man. For her. And still... she died."

My knees buckled. I sank onto the pavement, sobbing. "She died anyway... What was the point of everything?"

Dixie crouched beside me, her arms trembling as she reached for me. "You think I don't understand how it feels to lose everything? But you can't just give up like this. You said you wanted to go to university, remember? You talked about your mom's dreams. You think she'd want this? For you to throw your life away in the middle of the damn road?"

"I don't care," I mumbled, curling into myself. "Nothing matters anymore. Nothing."

Dixie's face hardened, her voice rising. "Then take a silver fang knife and just stab yourself, Amelia. Go ahead! But let me ask you will that bring her back? Will that fix anything?"

I went still. The cold air bit into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the numbness inside me.

"I... I might just do that," I whispered.

Dixie stood quickly, panic flashing in her eyes. "What?"

"I said thank you," I muttered hollowly. "Thank you for giving me that idea."

I rose, shakily, and turned to run. I could hear her footsteps pounding behind me.

"Amelia! Don't you dare-Amelia!"

I burst into my apartment, crashing into the kitchen drawer. My fingers fumbled until they landed on the cold, silver handle.

The knife.

I wrapped my hands around it, staring down at the glinting metal, my breaths short and wild.

Dixie barreled through the door behind me. "Put it down!" she shouted.

"No!" I screamed. "Let me end it! Let me end this pain!"

She lunged at me, grabbing my wrist. The knife fell with a clatter to the floor as we struggled. My tears soaked her shirt as I collapsed into her.

"Amelia, you're not thinking straight," she panted. "I know you're in pain. I know you feel empty. But this, this isn't you."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. The sobs were too thick, choking me.

"Your mom wouldn't want this," she said softly, holding my face. "She would want you to live. To go to school. To fight through this and make something of yourself."

Her voice cracked. "She loved you so much. Don't throw that love away."

For the first time, I saw tears in her eyes.

And something in me cracked.

I collapsed into her arms again, this time letting myself be held. Letting myself feel something other than pain.

After a while, Dixie stood and pulled me to my feet. "You need to cool off," she said quietly, brushing the hair out of my face. "Get dressed."

"Where are we going?" I asked hoarsely.

"You don't need to know. Just trust me."

I stared at her, hollow-eyed. And for once, I let someone else take control.

I changed into something simple, baggy jeans, a hoodie, sneakers. My hands still shook as I dressed. I felt like a ghost in my own skin.

She grabbed her keys, guided me out of the apartment, and held my hand tightly like I'd disappear if she let go.

We didn't talk much on the way.

The silence was heavy. But her grip was firm.

She finally stopped walking, abruptly, right in front of her apartment building. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she turned to face me.

I stared at her, confused and slightly breathless. "What are we doing here?" I asked, my voice flat. "I thought you said you were taking me somewhere."

Dixie rolled her eyes and huffed. "This is somewhere."

I blinked. "Your house is somewhere?" I folded my arms. "Seriously, what the heck, Dixie?"

She smirked, brushing past me to unlock the door. "I said I'm taking you somewhere you've never been before." She looked over her shoulder. "And trust me, it's not here. This is just a pit stop."

A pit stop?

I followed her inside hesitantly, watching as she flipped on the light switch and immediately began rummaging through her closet like a madwoman.

"What are you doing?" I asked slowly.

She tossed a pair of black leather pants onto the bed, followed by a sequined halter top and a pair of strappy stilettos that looked like they'd snap my ankles in half.

"You're getting dressed."

My brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

Her head popped up from behind the closet door, her eyes gleaming with mischief and determination. "We're going out. The Young Star Club. You'll love it. It's wild, it's loud, and the moonlight hits just right. It's a place where you can forget, Amelia. Just for tonight."

"Forget?" I repeated, my voice rising with disbelief. "My mother just died, Dixie."

Her expression faltered, just a beat, but then she straightened. "I know. I know she did. And I'm not telling you to move on. But you're spiraling. You were about to throw yourself into traffic an hour ago. You need this."

I shook my head, backing toward the door. "I'm not going anywhere."

She crossed the room in three quick strides. "Yes, you are."

"No-"

"You are going. That's it."

Before I could protest again, she had thrown the clothes at me, practically shoving me toward the bathroom. "Put them on."

"I'm not-"

"You are. End of discussion."

And I don't know how, but the next ten minutes were a blur. She was ruthless, yanking a brush through my tangled hair, swiping lipstick across my lips, powder on my cheeks. The reflection in the mirror didn't even look like me.

Who is this girl?

Tight leather, smoky eyes, red lips.

Dead behind the eyes.

I looked like a stranger. A polished, broken stranger.

"My mom just died," I whispered, staring at myself.

Dixie stood behind me, fixing her earring. Her voice was quieter now. "Maybe even more than her," she said softly, looking at me through the mirror. "You're killing yourself piece by piece. Don't do that."

I didn't answer.

She stepped back, spinning once with a proud grin. "Look at us-hot as hell."

And it was true. She looked like fire in heels. Dressed like Delilah herself-dangerous, seductive, alive.

Before I could change my mind, she pulled me out of the apartment and into the cool night. Her grip was firm, determined. We didn't speak much. We didn't have to.

When we pulled up to the club, the music was already booming, shaking the pavement. Neon lights painted the sky with color, and the scent of alcohol, sweat, and magic clung to the air. This wasn't just any place.

It was a werewolf club.

The Young Star Club. Under the full moon.

I froze at the entrance, my wolf stirring slightly inside me. Restless.

"Dixie, I don't know..."

"You're already here," she said, pulling me inside with a grin.

And just like that, we were swallowed by the music.

The bass pulsed through my body. Lights flashed. Shifters danced with wild abandon. I could smell the musk of wolves, the tang of blood, the sweetness of spiked drinks. Bodies pressed together. Laughter, growls, howls.

She handed me a glass, something glowing blue.

"What is this?"

"Magic with a twist," she said. "Just drink."

I hesitated.

Then I drank.

And drank again.

And again.

The burn felt good. Familiar. Like I was shedding my skin, layer by layer, until the girl who stood over her mother's grave was gone.

I laughed. I danced. I screamed.

Then suddenly, everything shifted.

The doors opened again.

And I felt it.

My wolf lifted her head.

A slow, deep swirl in my belly.

A thrum in my veins.

She whispered, breathless.

It's him.

It's them.

They are here.

I stumbled back, my heart stammering. "What?" I gasped.

Your mates are here.

"No," I whispered, gripping the bar. "No. No, no, no."

I turned slowly, eyes scanning the crowd.

And then I saw them.

Three men.

Standing under the moonlight streaming through the skylight above the dance floor.

Three shadows, tall and still. Silhouetted in silver.

Their eyes locked on me.

I blinked, trying to focus, drunken tears welling in my eyes.

And then-

My breath caught in my throat.

I saw it.

The scar.

The exact same birthmark-like scar I'd seen on the man who'd taken my body that night. The man I thought I'd never see again. That strange, haunting scar, just below the jawline.

And there it was.

On all three of them.

Same place.

Same shape.

Same burn in my chest.

"What the hell is going on?" I breathed, stumbling back into the bar.