Josie
I stood outside his door, clutching the folded clothes against my chest, my pulse hamring so loudly that it drowned out my thoughts. I had rehearsed what I wanted to say a hundred tis in my head, yet now that I was here, the words felt useless—like broken glass that would only cut us both.
I took a slow breath and knocked.
The two guards stationed at the door turned to almost instantly. Their eyes were impassive, their stance rigid. "Alpha’s orders," one said before I even spoke. "No visitors."
I swallowed hard. "I just need to talk to him. Please."
"The Alpha said he doesn’t want to see anyone, my lady."
I frowned, trying to steady my voice. "I’m not anyone, I’m his mate."
That earned a flicker of discomfort in their expressions, but still they didn’t move.
"I really need to talk to him," I repeated, my voice trembling more than I wanted it to. "Things aren’t what they seem. He misunderstood, and I can’t let him spiral again."
One of them shifted uneasily. "I’m sorry, Luna, but he said—"
"I don’t care what he said!" I snapped, taking a step forward. "He doesn’t an it. You both know he doesn’t. Just—just let talk to him, for five minutes."
Their faces hardened again, returning to that wall of obedience.
"Orders are orders," the other said, his tone final.
I exhaled shakily, anger and helplessness twisting inside . For a mont, I wanted to scream, to throw the clothes at the floor, to barge in and shake Varen until he listened. But what good would that do? He was already shutting out. He was already hurting—and it was my fault he was bleeding like this.
I stared at the door a mont longer, hoping—just hoping—that he was on the other side, listening. But no sound ca. No footsteps, no voice. Just silence.
"Fine," I whispered, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. "Give him these."
I shoved the clothes into the guard’s hands before they could protest. "Tell him I only wanted to talk. He can burn them if he wants, but at least he’ll know I ca."
And before the ache in my chest could swallow whole, I turned on my heel and stord off.
The corridor stretched long and dim, and halfway down it, I nearly collided with Kiel. His timing was always uncanny, like the universe sent him whenever I was barely holding it together.
He frowned imdiately. "Josie?"
"I was just... getting so water," I said quickly, brushing past him.
"Water?" His tone was dry, skeptical. "From the direction of my brother’s room?"
I paused, staring at the floor. "...Maybe."
Kiel sighed and crossed his arms, blocking my path. "Did you see him?"
I shook my head, the motion small, defeated. "He wouldn’t let . Or rather, his guards wouldn’t."
"Which ans he probably heard you," Kiel murmured. "He’s listening, even if he doesn’t want to admit it."
"Then why won’t he open the door?" My voice cracked despite my effort to keep it steady. "Why does he always shut out when things get hard?"
Kiel’s eyes softened. "Because that’s what Varen does. He hides behind silence until it eats him alive."
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling the weight of every unsaid thing pressing down. "I didn’t an to hurt him, Kiel. I just—everything’s been so tangled lately. He doesn’t trust what I say, and I don’t know how to make him see that I’m not leaving. That I want him."
Kiel sighed, resting a hand on my shoulder as he guided toward the stairs. "Co on. Let’s go downstairs before his guards think you’re planning a siege."
I almost smiled at that, though the ache didn’t fade.
We reached the lower floor, where the hum of conversation drifted from the main hall. The candles along the stairwell flickered softly, throwing golden light across Kiel’s sharp features. He was quiet for a long mont, lost in thought, before he finally spoke again.
"My brother’s always been sensitive," he said, his voice quieter now. "Too sensitive, maybe. He feels things deeply—love, anger, jealousy, all of it—and he doesn’t know how to manage any of them. When he shuts down, it’s because he’s scared. Not of you, but of himself."
I looked up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. "He told once that he hated how much I could hurt him," I murmured. "At the ti I thought he was exaggerating, but now..."
Kiel gave a humorless chuckle. "He wasn’t."
We reached the landing, and I leaned against the railing. "He’s told so many things, Kiel. About his fears, about how he thinks he’s always the one left behind. And I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t know how to make him believe that he’s enough."
Kiel rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost uncomfortable. "You can’t fix him, Josie. You can’t make him feel secure. That’s sothing he has to find himself."
"But if I don’t do sothing, he’s going to keep breaking," I said, frustration spilling out. "He’ll just keep thinking I’ll leave. How do I stop that?"
He was silent for a mont before answering. "You show him. Not through words—he’s heard too many of those—but through consistency. Be there when he pushes you away. Stay when he tests you."
I fell quiet, mulling that over. It sounded simple, but it felt impossible. Every ti I reached for Varen, he retreated further, like my love was sothing poisonous he couldn’t bear to touch.
Kiel exhaled, glancing up at the ceiling like he was searching for patience. "You know," he said after a beat, "Varen’s spent most of his life standing on the sidelines, cheering everyone else on. He never thought he was allowed to win. Even when we were kids, he’d always let or Thorne take the glory."
"That’s... sad," I whispered.
"It’s worse than that," Kiel said, his jaw tightening. "When Liam and Michelle started their ss—when everything went to hell—Varen wanted to help. But Thorne and I told him to stay out of it. We thought we were protecting him. Instead, we made him feel useless. That’s where this bitterness started."
The weight of his confession hung heavy between us. I stared at my hands, feeling my throat tighten. "So he’s angry because he thinks he failed you."
"Maybe," Kiel said. "Or maybe because we failed him."
The words sank deep, and for a mont I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to say sothing—anything—but nothing ca.
Silence filled the space between us again until Kiel spoke, his tone gentler this ti. "You don’t have to change him, Josie. Just understand him. His moods are... complicated, but they don’t an he loves you any less."
I nodded faintly, though my chest still ached. "You sound tired of talking about him," I said softly.
Kiel gave a low laugh, stepping closer. "That’s because I am. My brother is exhausting."
The faint smile that tugged at his lips was disarming, almost boyish, and for a second, it cracked through the heaviness pressing over .
"Then what do you want to talk about?" I asked.
He tilted his head, eyes glinting with sothing that made heat crawl up my neck. "You."
"?"
"Yeah," he murmured, his voice dropping lower as his gaze lingered on my lips. "I’ve been thinking about you all night."
I blinked, startled. "Kiel..."
"What?" he asked, feigning innocence, though the smirk tugging at his mouth betrayed him.
I swallowed. "You’re joking."
"I’m not." His hand moved to my waist, warm and sure. "I want you, Josie. I’ve wanted you for longer than I should admit. And I’m tired of pretending otherwise."
My pulse stumbled. "Kiel, stop—"
"I can’t," he said hoarsely, pulling closer until our bodies nearly touched. "You don’t know what it’s been like, watching you with him, knowing he doesn’t see you the way I do. He doesn’t know how to hold you without breaking you. But I do."
His words were too much—too dangerous. My thoughts tangled in panic and sothing else, sothing dark and unsteady that I didn’t want to na.
"Kiel, this isn’t right," I whispered, pressing a hand against his chest. "You’re his brother. I can’t—"
But before I could finish, he kissed .
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t hesitant. It was desperate—hungry, like he’d been holding it in for years and finally let himself fall. His mouth moved against mine with reckless heat, and for a mont, I froze. The world tilted. My heart slamd painfully in my chest.
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