CHAPTER 50: WHEN SHADOWS DON’T SLEEP

Thorne

I swore under my breath as I looked at Josie.

Her body was limp where I’d placed her on my bed, her skin clammy, hair matted to her forehead from sweat, and at the corners of her eyes... tears. Silent, dried streaks like she’d been crying even in her unconsciousness. It gutted me.

This wasn’t her. Josie, my spitfire, the thorn in the side, the mouthy little omega who never knew how to shut up... reduced to this shell that barely twitched when I brushed her cheek.

Something deep inside me twisted. It wasn’t rage, not like what I felt toward our enemies or toward my brothers when they acted like fools. No, this was heavier. Worse. Guilt. A leaden, searing kind that didn’t go away even when I clenched my fists so hard my claws dug into my own palms.

"We shouldn’t have done it," I muttered hoarsely, not looking away from her. "We shouldn’t have killed them."

I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it slipped out anyway, raw and unfiltered.

Varen let out a sigh that rattled with his own frustration. "They would have kept coming for her, Thorne. You know it. They would’ve found another way. They didn’t care if she lived or died."

"Still," I growled, shaking my head. "This—this mess. This state she’s in. It wasn’t worth it if this is the result."

Kiel was standing stiffly at the edge of the room, jaw clenched, eyes hollow. He hadn’t spoken much since she collapsed earlier. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

"We all agreed," Varen said, stepping forward. "And I’d do it again, too. A hundred times if it meant she could breathe without fear."

"She’s not breathing without fear," I spat, voice rising. "She’s not breathing at all, Varen! Look at her!"

We turned back to her together. Her chest was rising and falling, but it was shallow, like each breath was borrowed. Like her body was present but her soul was somewhere far away—maybe still trapped in whatever nightmare her mind had conjured.

"Peace," I murmured bitterly. "We said it was for her peace. But the only way any of us are going to have peace again is if Josie comes back to us. The real Josie. Not... this."

No one spoke. We all knew it was true.

I swallowed hard and ran a hand over my face. My skin felt too tight. "I’m a trigger," I said finally. "She looked at me like I was death itself earlier. Like she saw something in me she couldn’t stomach. I won’t go near her again. I’ll stay away."

Kiel’s head snapped up. "You can’t mean that—"

"I mean every word," I cut him off. "She doesn’t need me making things worse."

"That’s not how this works," Varen said sharply. "Every single one of us is a trigger, Thorne. What, you think she looks at me any different? She flinched when I kissed her. Her eyes glassed over. Like I was a shadow crawling over her."

I clenched my jaw, but said nothing.

"She needs us. All of us," Varen added. "Even you."

I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to be the brute again, the one who barked orders and shoved feelings aside. But I couldn’t be what she needed if I was what made her spiral.

I grunted something incoherent and walked out of the room.

I needed air. Space. Anything to stop the guilt from eating me alive.

It was dusk outside, the kind of dusk that draped the pack house in cold, purplish light. The skies looked heavy again, like rain was only moments away, as if the heavens mirrored my goddamn mood.

I didn’t get far before I saw her.

Michelle.

Of all people.

She was standing near the hallway leading to the east wing, arms crossed, eyes watching me like she’d been waiting.

I slowed my steps.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, voice flat.

She feigned surprise. "I heard Josie was out of the hospital," she said sweetly. "I just... I wanted to make sure she was okay."

I gave her a look so sharp it should’ve sliced her in two. "Since when do you care?"

Michelle’s smile faltered for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "You might have discarded me like trash," she said, stepping closer. "But I would never do anything to hurt this pack. Unlike your precious omega, I know how to keep things together."

I stiffened. My hands curled into fists.

Then, she did something that made every nerve in my body ignite.

She stood on tiptoe and pressed a peck to my cheek.

Before I could react, she sashayed off with a little smirk like she owned the damn hallway.

I stood there, seething, skin crawling, the taste of bile rising in my throat. And I knew—deep in my bones—I was going to kill her if she ever got near Josie again.

No questions. No hesitation.

Just death.

——

Later that evening, I was in the gym, pushing weights I didn’t even bother counting. Trying to kill the thoughts that kept circling like vultures in my skull.

That’s when I felt it.

Her scent.

Faint. Still fragile. But there.

I turned, and there she was—barefoot, wearing one of my shirts that hung off her frame like it was stitched from clouds.

"Josie," I said, instantly on alert.

She looked dazed, eyes still rimmed red. "My mother," she whispered. "She said... you could bring her back from the grave."

I froze.

My jaw tightened. "Come here," I said gently, motioning her over.

She walked like she was sleepwalking, eyes far away, until she was in front of me. I reached out, steadying her shoulders, and sat down on the bench, guiding her onto my lap.

She sighed softly and melted into me.

I snapped my fingers toward the hallway, and two maids came in, silent and efficient, placing a tray of fruit and juice on a low table before disappearing again.

Josie stared at the fruit like it was a puzzle. Then she picked a strawberry and popped it into her mouth.

I stroked her back gently, letting the silence stretch, just being there with her.

"You have to come back to me," I said quietly. "To us. You can’t keep getting lost in the dark like this."

She looked up at me slowly. "I’m not lost," she said. "You are. You’re the one who’s crying."

I blinked. "What?"

She smiled. "You have tears in your eyes."

"I do not," I said stiffly, brushing my face just to be sure.

She giggled, eyes sparkling for half a second.

Then her expression shifted.

"I think you’re turning into my dad," she murmured. "Your face... it’s changing..."

My blood ran cold.

"No," I whispered, tightening my grip on her waist. "Hey. Look at me. Josie—stay with me."

She blinked rapidly. "He said you would kill me. That you all would."

"Josie."

"I want you to kiss me," she said. "You have to kiss me or I’ll dream about you turning into him again—"

Her hands fumbled with my shirt, trying to tug it up.

"Varen," I mind-linked, heart hammering. "Kiel. Get the doctor. Now."

"On our way," Varen responded.

I didn’t wait. I crushed my mouth to hers—not with lust, not with hunger—but with desperation. Anything to stop the spiral. Anything to anchor her.

She whimpered against me, then froze.

Moments later, the door burst open.

Kiel, Varen, and the pack doctor charged in. The doctor wasted no time sedating her as she flailed, whispering gibberish about my shirt and dead parents.

"She’s talking nonsense again," Varen said, jaw tense. "What the hell is going on with her?"

"It’s trauma," the doctor said grimly. "Severe mental shock. We’ll need to run tests. Give her medicine. Monitor everything. She’s fragile right now."

"The witch said—" Kiel started.

"I don’t care what the witch said," I snapped. "She’s slipping through our fingers. We need to fix this. Now."

"We will," Varen said. "Whatever it takes."

The door creaked open again.

Michelle stepped in slowly, hands clasped.

"I have a solution," she said.

And for the first time that day, I smiled.

It wasn’t a kind smile.

It was the kind of smile that meant blood.

Because whatever she was about to say, I already knew—

She’d just sealed her fate.