Bound To The Broken Alpha (Amy and Daniel) novel Chapter 62

**TITLE: When Dawn Breaks Slowly Hope Finds Space To Grow by Jin Rowan**

**Chapter 62: You Think You Are Better?**

**BRIAN**

It didn’t take long for Clara to pick up on something that I hadn’t even dared to acknowledge within myself. She possessed a sharpness of mind that many underestimated. Perhaps that was the very reason she had managed to endure in this chaotic world for so long—her uncanny ability to detect vulnerability and exploit it to her advantage.

It all began a few days after the charity event, an occasion that had stirred more than just goodwill. I noticed Clara’s gaze lingering on me, her eyes narrowing with intent whenever I spoke to Amy or even mentioned her name casually in conversation. At first, she remained silent, but I could sense the tension building, like the calm before a storm, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she would confront me.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Clara cornered me in the dimly lit parking lot of the Carters building. Her tone was deceptively light, but the weight of her words was anything but.

“You really don’t hide it well, do you?” she remarked, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

I furrowed my brow, an instinctive defense mechanism kicking in. “Hide what?” I replied, feigning ignorance.

Her smile turned icy, cutting through the evening air. “Your loyalty is shifting, Brian. I see it. And I plan to use it.”

“Use it how?” I asked, my heart racing as I braced myself for her answer.

“To finish what Amy started,” she said, her voice steady and calm. “She thinks she’s untouchable now. But everyone has a weakness. Even her.”

“Don’t drag me into your games,” I warned, my voice low and firm, hoping to convey the seriousness of the situation.

Clara chuckled softly, a sound devoid of warmth. “Too late for that. You already are.”

I chose silence as my response and turned away, my instincts screaming at me that she was not bluffing. Clara was never one to bluff; her confidence was a weapon, and I was caught in her crosshairs.

The following day, I found myself at the company, drawn to Amy’s office like a moth to a flame. She sat there, engrossed in files, her focus razor-sharp, exuding an aura of determination that was both admirable and intimidating. I hesitated at the door, my hand hovering over the knob before I finally knocked.

“Come in,” she instructed, her eyes still fixed on the papers before her.

I stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click behind me. “We need to talk,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.

She finally lifted her gaze, her expression calm yet guarded, like a fortress ready to defend against an impending attack. “About what?” she inquired, her tone revealing nothing.

“Mark,” I stated, watching her reaction closely.

She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms over her chest, a defensive posture that made my heart sink. “What about him?”

“Do you still have feelings for him?” I blurted out, the question hanging in the air between us like a thick fog.

Her brows rose slightly, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “That’s none of your concern,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of irritation.

“It is if it’s driving him crazy,” I shot back, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “He’s not thinking straight. You’ve gotten into his head again.”

She let out a quiet laugh, but it held no humor. “Into his head? Brian, I don’t even want to be in the same room as him, let alone his head.”

Her tone was calm, almost mocking, yet there was a steeliness beneath it that I couldn’t ignore.

“I want him to know exactly that,” she continued, her voice unwavering. “I want him to understand that I don’t like him. I don’t think about him. And I don’t want him anywhere near me. If he could stop breathing the same air as me, that would be perfect.”

Her words were blunt and unyielding, leaving no room for misinterpretation. There was a stark absence of softness in her demeanor.

I met his gaze, unflinching. “You lost that right a long time ago, Mark.”

For a moment, his expression faltered, a mix of confusion and realization flashing across his features. Then, without another word, he grabbed his keys and stormed out, leaving behind an unsettling quiet.

Once the door clicked shut, I sank into a chair, releasing a long, weary breath. This was precisely what Clara had orchestrated—two men tearing each other apart while she watched from the sidelines, a puppet master reveling in the chaos.

The next morning, I encountered Mark again at the training grounds. He looked worse than before—haggard, distracted, and simmering with anger. I recognized that look; it was the same one I had seen before when he was on the brink of losing control.

I approached him, standing shoulder to shoulder. “You’re letting her destroy you,” I said, my voice low but firm.

He didn’t even glance in my direction. “Who?” he muttered, his tone detached.

“Clara,” I replied, my concern evident. “She’s using your jealousy as a weapon, and you’re handing it to her.”

Finally, he turned to face me, his eyes narrowing. “You think you’re better than me?”

“No,” I said, my voice steady. “But I know when a man is losing himself over something he can’t have. Amy is Daniel’s wife. She’s Luna now. The Carters won’t tolerate this kind of talk. If you keep going down this path, it will be your downfall.”

He said nothing, merely walked away, his silence a testament to his inner turmoil. I watched him go, knowing he wouldn’t heed my warning.

Later that day, I spotted Clara leaving the Carter building, her expression smug, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. I knew she had already begun to sow more lies, her specialty—starting fires and waiting for others to burn.

And as much as I hated to admit it, she had ignited a fire within me too.

No matter how hard I tried to suppress my thoughts, I couldn’t stop thinking about Amy. Not as Daniel’s wife, not as Luna, but as the one person in this entire mess who had managed to maintain her composure. That, more than anything else, made me want her even more.