Josie
I didn’t even know what I wanted to say to him.
Varen’s words hit like a slap. "I was out of line. You should leave."
That was it. Just like that. I blinked at him, mouth half-open, heart halfway shattered. I could feel the tears burning behind my eyes, and I hated how easily I crumbled around them. Around him.
But I wasn’t going to beg. Not again. Not tonight.
Without a word, I turned and walked out of the room. My legs moved on their own, barely holding up. The hallway seed longer than usual, the silence heavier. I made it to my room and shut the door behind with a soft but final thud.
The guards outside turned toward , and I snapped, "No one cos in. Especially not the brothers."
They gave a curt nod. I didn’t wait for a reply. I just turned the lock and leaned my back against the door.
The lump in my throat swelled. I hated this. I hated how they could make feel so much. How Thorne’s cruelty could cut so deeply. How Varen’s cold silence could make feel like I was begging to breathe.
I slid down to the floor and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
God, I wished I had a wolf.
Soone to talk to. Soone to anchor . Soone to tell I wasn’t insane for feeling so damn much.
But there was nothing. No comforting voice. No internal warmth. Just .
Alone.
Again.
I climbed into bed, hoping sleep would take quickly. But my mind wouldn’t let rest. Even with my eyes shut, I kept thinking about how each of them affected . How Varen made feel safe, even when I shouldn’t. How Thorne always had to ruin that. The mont I smiled with one, the other tore it down.
I hated this push and pull. Hated how they made my heart a battlefield.
Eventually, my thoughts drifted... and changed.
Heat started blooming across my skin, and it wasn’t from the blankets.
The dream ca uninvited.
Hands—everywhere. Lips—on my neck, my collarbone, my thighs. I couldn’t tell whose hands were whose. They were all over . Thorne. Varen. Kiel. Their voices in my ear. Rough. Soft. Sinful. My back arched, and my breath hitched as I whispered soone’s na. I didn’t know who.
I woke up gasping.
The clock on the wall read 4:03 a.m.
My cheeks were flushed, my skin was burning—and I was completely naked.
"What the hell?" I muttered, yanking the sheets over myself.
I was sure I had gone to bed in my full pajamas—sweatpants and a hoodie. But now? Nothing.
Panic set in as I sat up and looked around the room, heart hamring. Had soone co in? Had sothing happened?
But the door was still locked. No one was there.
I jumped out of bed and ran to my dresser, throwing on the first thing I found—a silky blue robe. My hands were still trembling.
I needed to get out of here.
I slipped out the door without making a sound, avoiding the guards, my bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor.
Outside, it was drizzling. The early morning fog blanketed the ground, and everything was silent except the gentle pitter-patter of rain.
I walked toward the garden, needing air, needing distance. The mont I stepped onto the stone path, a strange chill raced down my spine.
Then the voices started.
Whispers. Gentle. Beckoning.
The trees.
It felt like they were calling out to .
No. No, not again.
My breath quickened. Was I hallucinating again? Was this another break?
But the trees... they weren’t just calling. They were weeping.
The pull was irresistible. My legs moved on their own, carrying deeper into the garden. The rain didn’t matter. The cold didn’t matter. Nothing did.
Suddenly, my hands shot forward—without my permission—and a surge of energy exploded from my fingertips.
The trees swayed violently, reacting to the wave of power. The ground beneath trembled, as if the earth itself was crying out.
"No—stop!" I cried, trying to pull back, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t in control.
It was like sothing had taken over .
I could feel the trees speaking. Pleading. They weren’t angry.
They were afraid.
They were asking what I wanted.
What did I want?
I didn’t even know anymore.
The energy inside swirled like a storm. My vision blurred as tears spilled down my cheeks, mixing with the rain.
"I don’t want to hurt anyone," I whispered. "Please..."
Then a hand touched my arm.
The connection snapped instantly.
I gasped and stumbled backward, the power fizzling out like it had never been there.
"Josie," Varen said softly.
He reached up, brushing away my tears with the pads of his fingers. His touch was so gentle, it made my chest ache.
"I—I didn’t an to..." My voice cracked.
"It’s okay," he whispered. "Co on. Let make you so coffee."
I let him lead back to the house.
Neither of us spoke. The rain clung to our skin, and my robe stuck to like a second layer of anxiety. But his hand never let go of mine.
Inside, the kitchen lights felt too bright, too artificial. Varen moved quietly, brewing coffee like it was sothing sacred.
He handed a mug. The coffee was lukewarm. Not exactly great.
Still, I held it like it was the only thing tethering to reality.
"I don’t know how to stop it," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
Varen glanced at , his eyes calm and unreadable.
"I’ve killed so many plants," I confessed. "So many living things. My powers destroy more than they help. And I hate myself for it."
He didn’t respond. He just stared into his own mug, lips pressed tight.
I felt sothing hot twist in my chest.
"Say sothing," I snapped.
He blinked.
"I said," I repeated louder, "say sothing, damn it! Don’t just sit there like you’re above all of this!"
Still, he didn’t speak.
My fingers tightened around the mug, and I pushed away from the table.
"I’m leaving."
That got him moving.
He stepped in front of , not blocking —just close enough that I had to tilt my chin up to et his eyes.
"You need to be less aggressive, Josie," he said quietly. "I’m not your enemy."
My eyes narrowed. "You think I’m aggressive? After everything? That’s what you got from that?"
"I’m not here to lecture you," he said. "I’m here to listen. You just... don’t want to talk. You want answers. And when you don’t get them fast enough, you attack."
I clenched my jaw.
"What good does listening do ?" I said, my voice sharp. "You think just sitting here and staring makes it better? You think silence makes feel heard?"
His gaze didn’t waver.
"I’m not trying to fix you, Josie," he said. "I’m just... here."
And sohow, that made it worse.
Because part of wanted to believe him.
But the bigger part—the part that rembered pain—didn’t know how.
I turned my back to him.
And yet, I didn’t move.
Because for once, the silence didn’t feel like a prison.
It felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t lying.
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