Josie
I didn't slam the door when I got to my room.
I wanted to. Every muscle in me itched to throw something, scream, rip the curtains off the wall—anything that might feel like release.
But I didn't. Because that would mean I'd lost control, and I was so damn tired of feeling like I had no grip on my life.
Instead, I quietly closed the door, crossed the room, and collapsed face-first onto my bed. The sheets were cool against my skin, smelling faintly of old lavender detergent and something sharp—maybe my own sweat. Maybe panic. I didn't know anymore.
My chest felt too tight to breathe properly. I curled my fingers into the duvet, pressing my face into the pillow so no one would hear me scream if it slipped out.
I didn't cry.
I wanted to. But I didn't. Because if I started, I wasn't sure I'd stop. And that wasn't a risk I could take tonight.
Today had been too much. Too raw. Too terrifying. That moment in the woods still clung to me like a second skin—those men, their claws, the way the forest swallowed their footsteps until they were on me. And then Kiel—his voice, his power, the way he shielded me like he didn't think twice.
And I hadn't even said thank you. Not properly. Not like I should have.
I sighed against the pillow, the sound muffled but heavy.
My phone buzzed somewhere near my head.
I turned it over and glanced at the screen. One name.
Marcy.
Of course.
My finger hovered over the decline button. I wasn't in the mood to talk. Least of all to someone who had barely looked at me since the whole "mated to three alphas" revelation.
But I answered anyway.
"Josie!" came the high-pitched chirp on the other end.
Gods, that voice grated like nails on glass.
I blinked at the ceiling. "Hi, Marcy."
There was a pause. "That's it? Hi? No 'hello bestie,' no sarcasm? What's up with you?"
I rolled onto my side, staring at the window. "I'm tired."
"You've been tired for weeks."
I didn't respond. Because she was right.
She kept going. "Look, I know I've been acting weird since… well, you know."
"Yeah, I noticed."
There was a soft sigh. "I just… I don't know how to be around you anymore. You're mated to three Alphas, Josie. That's not exactly casual gossip."
I scoffed. "So that makes me radioactive now?"
"No! No, it's not like that."
"It feels like that."
She went quiet, and for a second, I thought she'd hung up. But then, softly:
"I'm sorry. I really am. Even after our talk at the market, I still don't know how to act. Everything's different."
I sat up slowly, resting my head back against the headboard. "Then just act normal. If you still care about me at all, just… be normal."
Her voice cracked a little. "I do care about you."
"Then show it. Don't tiptoe around me like I've grown fangs."
She mumbled something that might've been another apology.
"So," she said after a beat, trying for a lighter tone. "What's it like being the center of attention for three terrifyingly hot Alphas?"
I snorted. "Exhausting."
"I mean, most girls would kill for your problem."
"Most girls don't have to dodge murder attempts and break up literal growl-fests between jealous werewolves."
She laughed. "Okay, fair. But seriously, are you okay?"
I hesitated.
I wanted to lie. To toss out some dry joke, something to dodge the pit clawing its way up my throat. But Marcy had been my friend since we were kids. She knew me too well.
So I tried the joke anyway.
"Don't worry," I said. "I'm only 90% traumatized. The other 10% is just confusion."
"Josie," she said gently. "Talk to me. What's really wrong?"
And that's when it cracked.
Not all at once. Just a tremor in my voice. A wobble in my breath. I pressed a hand to my chest like I could keep it together by force alone.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I whispered. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be."
"Hey," she said quickly. "It's okay—just breathe—"
"No, it's not okay," I snapped, voice breaking. "I don't understand why this is happening to me. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be some stupid Luna or mate or—whatever they want me to be."
"Josie…"
"They're strong and scary and always fighting, and I don't know if I'm supposed to love them or run from them. I'm scared, Marcy. I'm scared all the time, and I don't know if they even see me as a person or just some prophecy fulfillment—some prize."
I clamped a hand over my mouth as the first sob slipped out.
"I didn't want any of this," I whispered. "I just wanted a quiet life. To belong somewhere."
There was silence on the line.
Then, quietly, "You still have me. You'll always have me."
I opened my mouth to say thank you—maybe something more—when a sharp knock at the door made me jump.
"Someone's here," I said quickly. "I have to go."
"Wait—Josie—"
"I'll call you later."
I ended the call and slipped off the bed, padding barefoot across the room. My heart was still racing, breath uneven. I scrubbed at my face, wiping away whatever tear tracks might've betrayed me.
I opened the door.
Thorne stood there, tall and imposing, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. His cold grey eyes swept past me, not at me, like I was something barely worth noticing.
My stomach dropped. I suddenly remembered exactly how I'd yelled at him. The things I'd said.
He didn't look angry. That was the worst part.
"Let me in," he said.
I stepped aside.
He walked in without hesitation, stopping in the center of the room like he owned it. I closed the door and turned slowly, arms folding over my chest in defense.
He didn't look at me. Not really. His gaze stayed on the wall behind me. The desk. The ceiling. Anything but my eyes.
I frowned. "Is there something wrong?"
"I'm here to give you ground rules," he said flatly.
I blinked. "Rules?"
"Yes."
I scoffed. "Kiel literally saved my life tonight. And you're acting like he put me in danger."
Thorne stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His eyes flicked to mine for one fleeting moment—and in that instant, I saw a storm barely contained.
"Don't talk," he said.
Just that.
Two words.
And I fell silent.
Not out of fear.
But because something in his voice told me this wasn't about control or cruelty.
It was about something deeper.
Something broken.