Accident

The morning air was crisp, the faint smell of dew hanging in the breeze as I jogged through my usual route. My neighborhood was quiet, with only the occasional car passing by. It was my favorite time of the day, where my thoughts could wander freely, uninterrupted by the chaos of work or life.

As usual, my phone buzzed with a notification. A quick glance revealed an email from work. Annoyed but resigned, I slowed my pace, pulling the phone closer to read. My fingers tapped the screen, crafting a response. Distracted, I didn't notice the faint rumble of an approaching car. My surroundings blurred into the edges of my focus—just me, the email, and my steps pounding against the pavement.

Then, a loud horn blared, cutting through my thoughts like a knife.

I looked up just as a car swerved, but it was too late. The vehicle clipped my side, sending me sprawling onto the ground. Pain exploded through my ribs and shoulder as I hit the asphalt hard. My phone skittered away, landing somewhere out of sight.

"Miss! Oh my God, are you okay?" a frantic voice called out.

I tried to respond, but the sharp ache in my side made it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. I rolled onto my back, clutching my ribs, trying to make sense of the pain radiating through my body. Every movement was agony, my muscles screaming in protest.

The driver, a man in his thirties, scrambled out of the car and rushed to my side. "I'm so sorry—I didn't see you! Are you hurt badly?"

"I…" My voice came out as a croak, and I winced as I tried to sit up. "I think… my ribs."

"Don't move!" he said, panic clear in his tone. He crouched beside me, his hands hovering like he wanted to help but wasn't sure how. "Should I call an ambulance?"

"No," I managed, shaking my head slightly. The motion sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through me. "I live… nearby. I can…"

"You're not walking anywhere like this," he said firmly. "I'll call someone for you. Stay still."

I heard him fumbling for his phone, but before he could do anything, another voice broke through the chaos, this one familiar and filled with worry.

"Liliam!" Owen's voice rang out, and I turned my head slightly to see him sprinting toward us. Relief and frustration washed over me in equal measure.

The driver stepped back as Owen reached me, his face pale with concern. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"A car…" I said weakly, pointing to the man who was now nervously explaining himself to Owen. "Clipped me… I wasn't paying attention."

Owen's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to the driver with barely restrained anger before turning his full focus back to me. "Can you move?"

"Barely," I admitted, grimacing as I tried to adjust my position.

"That's it. We're going to the hospital," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already crouching down, carefully lifting me into his arms. The sudden movement made me gasp in pain, and his grip immediately adjusted, his voice softening. "I've got you, Liliam. Just hold on."

The driver stammered out an apology, but Owen cut him off with a sharp glare. "I'll take it from here."

He carried me with ease, his strides purposeful as he made his way to his car parked just a block away. I rested my head against his shoulder, the adrenaline fading and leaving me exhausted. The sharp ache in my ribs pulsed with every breath, but somehow, the steady rhythm of Owen's heartbeat against my ear was comforting.

"Why were you jogging without looking where you were going?" he asked, his voice a mix of frustration and worry.

"I was… distracted," I admitted, my words slurring slightly. "Work email."

"Of course," he muttered under his breath, his irritation evident. But his arms tightened around me slightly, a silent reassurance that he wasn't letting go.

The sterile smell of the hospital room clung to the air, the soft beeping of machines and the distant sounds of nurses moving in the hallway felt too normal for how chaotic my mind was. I shifted slightly on the bed, wincing as the pain shot through my side again. My ribs were still sore from the accident—grazed by a car while I was out jogging earlier that morning. It had been a near miss, but the bruise forming under the bandages reminded me that I hadn't gotten away completely unscathed.

"I'm fine, really," I muttered, trying to sound more convincing than I felt. I glanced over at Owen, who sat rigid in the chair beside me, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, his brow furrowed with worry.

"No, you're not," Owen snapped, his voice sharp, frustration spilling over. His face was set in a hard line, his jaw clenched as he stared at me. "You got *hit* by a car, Liliam. You're not fine. You're lucky it wasn't worse."

I rolled my eyes, though even that small movement made me wince. "It barely grazed me, Owen. I'm okay. It's just some bruising. Nothing serious."

Owen wasn't letting up. "You were in pain for hours," he protested, his voice rising with irritation. "Stop trying to downplay it. You could've been seriously hurt."

Before I could respond, the door to the room swung open. Zeff stepped in, and everything in the room shifted. His face was pale with worry, his eyes scanning me as if he needed to check every inch for injuries. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Owen sitting beside me. His expression tightened, but the concern in his eyes didn't waver.

"Liliam," Zeff said, his voice soft but edged with urgency as he approached the bed. "Are you okay?"

The air seemed to thicken with tension immediately, a charged silence hanging between the three of us. Zeff's gaze flicked to Owen, who was glaring at him, then back to me. I could see the worry etched into Zeff's face, but he was holding himself back, keeping his distance because of Owen.

"I'm fine, Zeff. Really. Just some bruised ribs," I said, trying to diffuse the tension, though I knew it was a losing battle.

Zeff's jaw clenched, and I could see his hands curl into fists at his sides, his emotions simmering just beneath the surface. His eyes darted to the X-rays by my bed, showing the bruising along my ribs. "You don't *look* fine," he muttered under his breath.

Owen straightened in his chair, his protective instincts kicking in. "She's fine," he said, his voice firm as he met Zeff's gaze with a pointed look. "I'm here. I've got it handled."

The tension between them thickened, and for a moment, it felt like the room might explode from the pressure. Owen was sitting close to me, his hand protectively resting on the edge of the bed. Zeff, on the other hand, was barely holding himself back, his connection to me humming just beneath the surface.

"I appreciate you coming by, Zeff," Owen said, his voice cold and clipped. "But like I said, I've got it."

Zeff's eyes darkened slightly, but he didn't bite back. His jaw clenched, muscles tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Before I could say anything, the door to the room swung open again—this time with much more force.

William strode in, his presence shifting the room immediately. The casual charm I'd seen in him before was gone, replaced by something darker, something far more possessive. His eyes scanned the room with intensity before landing on me. His gaze softened for only a moment when he saw the bandages and the wince on my face, but then it hardened again.

"Liliam," William said, his voice low, a smooth but dangerous edge underlining his words. "What happened?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could get a word out, Zeff stepped forward, his hand coming up to block William's path. His body tensed as he positioned himself between William and me. "She's fine," Zeff said, his voice firm but protective. "She doesn't need any more stress right now."

William's eyes flicked to Zeff, and something dangerous passed between them. A silent, unspoken challenge. The air in the room felt like it was vibrating with tension. Then William's eyes shifted, landing on Owen. I could see the confusion cross his face, quickly followed by anger as he took in Owen's protective stance beside me.

William's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "Who's the idiot?" he asked, his voice dropping to something cold and sharp as he gestured toward Owen with a slight tilt of his head.

Zeff hesitated, his gaze flicking between William and Owen before muttering, "Liliam's boyfriend."

"What?" William's voice was sharp, disbelief coloring his tone. His eyes snapped back to me, and I could see it—jealousy, raw and exposed.

The possessiveness simmering beneath William's calm exterior was now fully on display. The weight of his gaze was almost unbearable, the air thickening as the tension spiraled out of control. His fists tightened at his sides, and I could see he was fighting to keep himself in check.

"Boyfriend?" William repeated, his voice dangerously low, each word dripping with restrained anger.

I tried to speak, to explain, but the words caught in my throat. This was spiraling too fast, faster than I could manage. Owen sensed the threat too, his body tensing as he glared back at William.

"Yeah," Owen said, his voice hard, meeting William's gaze with defiance. "I'm her boyfriend. I'm taking care of her. So, if you don't mind—"

William's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into a growl. "Careful. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Owen stood, not backing down, but before things could escalate any further, Zeff's hand shot out, gripping William's shoulder. "William, now's not the time," Zeff said, his voice low and strained. He knew how dangerous William could be, especially now.

William's eyes flicked back to Zeff, frustration and jealousy swirling in them. "She's *my* mate," William growled, the claim hanging heavily in the air. His gaze shifted back to me, his possessiveness burning hotter. "Does he even know that?"

My heart pounded in my chest, William's words crashing down on me like a tidal wave. The room felt like it was closing in, suffocating. I hadn't had the chance to process the bond I felt with William, hadn't told Owen *anything*, and now it was all unraveling.

Zeff's grip tightened on William's shoulder. "*My* mate," Zeff muttered, his jealousy unmistakable. He, too, was struggling, trying to keep his emotions from boiling over. Both of them were fighting for control, and I was caught in the middle.

I glanced between them—William, Zeff, and Owen—and felt the chaos building inside me, threatening to pull me under. How could I explain any of this?

A smirk tugged at William's lips, cutting through the tension like a knife. "So, *this* is why you haven't marked her yet? Pathetic, Zeff. Always trying to be the good guy."

Zeff's eyes darkened, his muscles tensing. "This isn't about ego, William. It's about respect. And privacy."

William scoffed, shaking off Zeff's grip. "Privacy? You had your chance, Zeff. You could've marked her, sealed the bond. But you didn't. And now?" His gaze slid to me, sending a shiver down my spine. "Now, she's fair game. And I intend to make sure she's mine."

Before either of them could respond, Owen had had enough. "If you two need to bicker about whatever weird dominance thing this is, do it somewhere else," Owen snapped, his patience frayed. "This isn't about you."

Both Zeff and William turned their attention to Owen, their anger momentarily united. Zeff shot William a warning look before grabbing him and forcing him toward the door before things escalated beyond control.

As they reached the door, Zeff paused, turning back to Owen. "Don't be hard on Liliam. We're just friends."

Owen's eyes narrowed. "Doesn't look like it."

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the room thick with tension. I stared at the closed door, my heart pounding as I tried to catch my breath.

Owen's voice cut through the heavy silence. "Liliam, what the hell was that?"

I had no idea how to explain it.

"William and Zeff are friends," I tried to explain, though the word *friends* felt strange on my tongue. "They have this... weird competitive relationship. They talk about strange things, sometimes." I trailed off, unsure how to explain the tension that always seemed to simmer beneath the surface when they were around each other.

Owen raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed as he watched me. "Weird competitive relationship? And what kind of 'weird things' are we talking about?"

I hesitated, my mind racing to come up with a simple explanation that wouldn't open up more questions. "You know, just... territorial stuff. It's hard to explain."

Owen's gaze narrowed, clearly unconvinced. Then, his eyes widened slightly as something clicked in his mind. "Wait a second—isn't that the guy from the coffee shop? William?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "Yeah, that's him."

"Why the hell is he here?" Owen's voice was sharp, his irritation barely masked. "And what does *he* have to do with anything?"

I could feel the tension rising again, but this time it was coming from Owen. I wasn't sure how to make him understand without opening up the whole mess. *William and Zeff are my mate*, I wanted to say, but the words were stuck, tangled in everything else. How could I explain that when I barely understood it myself?

"It's complicated," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, not knowing how else to describe the tangled web of emotions and bonds that had formed between me, Zeff, and William.

Owen frowned, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. "Complicated? Liliam, you're in the hospital, and these two guys are acting like—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "What's really going on here?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Because, honestly, I didn't have a simple answer. Everything felt like it was unraveling faster than I could handle.

"They're into you," Owen said, his voice low as if he was piecing it together for himself. He ran a hand through his hair, then leaned back in his chair, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Wow, I never thought I'd have to compete again."

"Again?" I echoed, confusion lacing my voice.

Owen looked at me, his expression shifting from frustration to something almost smug. "Remember Josh?"

I blinked, my mind racing. Josh. The name felt like a distant memory, but then it clicked. Josh had been a colleague—a friend in our group—who was always a little *too* affectionate. He'd been sweet, always buying me little things, going out of his way to be nice. At the time, I thought he was just friendly, but now, thinking back on it, there was something more behind it. And then, he'd just stopped.

"I always found it weird that he stopped being so... attentive," I said slowly, piecing it together as well.

Owen's smug smile deepened. "That's because I told him to back off. The guy was obviously into you. I didn't like it then, and I sure as hell don't like this situation now." He gestured vaguely toward the door where William and Zeff had just exited.

I stared at Owen, the realization sinking in. He wasn't wrong—there had been a silent competition back then, one I hadn't even noticed, and now it felt like I was right in the middle of another one. But this time, it wasn't just a friend with a crush. It was two men— two werewolves—who felt something deeper, something more primal, something I couldn't begin to untangle.

"So, you told Josh to back off?" I asked, surprised.

Owen shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal. He was making it weird, and you didn't see it. I was just... protecting what was mine." He shot me a look that was both confident and possessive, the same protectiveness that had flared up when William and Zeff were here.

I didn't know how to respond. Everything felt messy and complicated. The tension between Zeff and William, the bond I hadn't even begun to understand, and now Owen's resurfaced protectiveness. The world around me was spinning, and I was stuck in the middle of it all.

"Owen, this is different," I said finally, my voice soft. "Zeff and William... it's not just a crush or a harmless flirtation. It's more than that."

Owen frowned, his brows furrowing in frustration. "More? How much more, Liliam? What am I supposed to do with this? Compete with these two guys for you?"

I opened my mouth to explain, but again, the words felt stuck. How could I explain something I barely understood myself? The weight of the situation settled heavily on my chest, making it harder to breathe.

Owen saw the tension in my face, the way I struggled to find the words, and his expression softened. He sighed heavily and reached out, gently taking my hand in his. His thumb traced slow circles over my skin, a gesture that once brought comfort, but now only deepened the sense of confusion swirling inside me.

"Look, I'm really trying here," Owen said, his voice low and filled with a sincerity that tugged at something deep in me. "I know I've been distant before. And that's on me. But I'm trying to mend things, trying to get us back to how we were."

"I know," I replied quietly, staring down at our hands intertwined. "But… you know, after that inccident… my confidence hasn't been the same."

Owen froze at the mention of the inciddent. His grip on my hand tightened just a fraction, a reaction he couldn't quite hide. He swallowed hard, his face clouding with regret.

"That was over a year ago, Liliam," he said, his voice faltering. "And I was drunk. I regret it every damn day. I stopped drinking because of it. You know that."

"I know," I whispered, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that the memory stirred. "But it's hard to erase."

The accident. The night that changed so much between us. He had been drunk out of town—recklessly so—and he slept with someone else. I had forgiven him, or at least I thought I had, but the betrayal had been heavy, lingering between us in ways that words could never fully capture.

Owen's eyes darkened with guilt, and I could see the weight of that night pressing down on him, just as it had been on me. "I know I hurt you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I can't take that back. But I've been trying to fix it, Liliam. Every day."

I felt a lump in my throat, torn between the desire to move past it and the reality that it had changed things between us. And now, with Zeff and William complicating everything even more, I wasn't sure what to think, let alone how to feel.

"I just… I don't know if things can go back to how they were," I said, my voice trembling. "I don't know if *I'm* the same person."

Owen looked at me, his eyes filled with desperation. "You don't have to be the same. We don't have to be the same. But we can still try. I love you, Liliam. I always have."

I looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, the sincerity in his eyes. But there was a part of me that felt… distant. Like something was missing between us, something that had been broken and couldn't be repaired. And with everything going on with Zeff and William, the bond I didn't fully understand, it felt like I was drifting further away, caught between what was and what could be.

"I know you do," I whispered. But was love enough? Was it enough to hold onto something that felt like it was slipping away?