CHAPTER 55: FIRE BENEATH THE SURFACE

Thorne

The guards shifted on their feet, clearly unsettled as Varen’s voice cracked through the tension.

Varen stepped forward with the grace of a snake about to strike. "Who told you?"

"You should know your place," he shot back.

Kiel offered her a small smile. "We like it a little too much."

It clawed at my insides like fire beneath the surface.

"You must be out of your minds," I said slowly, the words rolling off my tongue like smoke from a fire not yet lit. "Barging into my territory. Into my home. With no invitation?"

Varen turned, blinking. "What?"

But the second I stepped in, I froze.

Harsh dipped his head in a shallow bow, but it wasn’t deep enough to cool the rage boiling in my blood.

Rough. Burning. Bitter.

I turned to him sharply. "You sleep with anything that breathes, and you expect me to trust you with her like this?"

My gaze sliced toward Marcy, who stood just inside the door, arms crossed over her chest, her mouth set in a hard line. The way her eyes flicked toward the elders didn’t sit right with me.

Harsh hesitated. "The whispers are... everywhere. From the guards. The kitchen staff. Even a few visiting wolves."

Varen smirked. "Because I’ve seen her like this before? Or because you’ve suddenly remembered you’re mated?"

Before I could say another word, her voice rang out—soft, drowsy, and lovely.

She was on the bed, robe slipping off her shoulder, the soft curve of her neck exposed. Her legs tangled in silk sheets, bare skin gleaming in the light pouring through the windows. My wolf stirred. Hard.

"I said, get out."

Kiel moved forward, voice flat and bitter. "She lost her parents. She was attacked. Her mind is in turmoil. That doesn’t mean she’s gone mad."

My chest tightened.

"This is my room, Thorne."

"What’s going on...?" Josie murmured.

My jaw locked. My stomach twisted.

"But you did disrespect me," I cut in, tone dropping to a near growl. "You disrespected this house. You disrespected my mate. And you clearly forgot your place."

She sat up, eyes blinking slowly, hair tumbling over her shoulder like a waterfall of midnight. She tugged her robe shut, cheeks pink. "Did I do something wrong?"

I clenched my fists. "I don’t care. You’re not staying."

"You must nothing," I snarled, stepping forward. My power rippled through the room, pinning them all. "If you think you can use Josie’s grief to question my leadership, go ahead. I dare you. But mark my words—if one of you lays a hand on her, speaks her name without our permission, or tries to parade her like a broken thing in front of the pack, I will take your head and mount it outside the council hall."

"They’re watching us," Varen said lowly. "Waiting for us to mess up."

"You should know your limits," I bit out.

She didn’t argue. She turned sharply and stalked out, but not without throwing one last venomous look behind her.

Back at the pack house, I called for the workers and servants, gathering them in the dining hall like misbehaving pups.

The heavy doors swung open with a groan, and in walked the Council of Elders—five of them, cloaked in heavy ceremonial coats, dark as the judgment they thought they carried. At their center stood Harsh, the head elder, his greying beard trimmed to a sharp point, eyes gleaming with misplaced righteousness.

Kiel moved quickly, stepping forward.

And I watched it all. The way she looked at him. The way she melted into him. The way his eyes softened around her like she was his entire world.

Another elder—Cantor, I think—shifted forward slightly, mouth opening to speak, but one glance from me made him think better of it. He closed his lips with a snap.

He stepped closer, eyes dangerous. "You were the one keeping your distance, Thorne. Don’t act like you’ve been the noble protector all along."

I rose from my seat at the head of the room, my spine straight, arms folded across my chest as I took my place with Varen on my left and Kiel on my right. Together, we stood tall. United. A wall of power and dominance. It crackled in the air like static, heavy and thick with tension.

One of the elders, a lanky wolf named Brell, cleared his throat. "She was found standing on a terrace... ready to jump."

She giggled and leaned into him, curling like a kitten.

Once the doors shut behind them, I exhaled heavily. Varen and Kiel stood beside me, just as tense.

Harsh tried again, this time more cautiously. "Alpha, please. The matter is delicate. We’ve heard troubling things regarding the state of the future Luna. Screams. Hallucinations. Rumors spreading through the pack."

Harsh finally bowed deeply. "We apologize, Alpha. Truly. It won’t happen again."

"No one is to approach Josie," I ordered, voice firm and cold. "Not unless we approve it. And if I hear one more word about her mental state, you’ll regret ever learning to speak."

"Alpha Thorne, please—no disrespect was meant—"

"They think we already have," Kiel muttered.

When the door slammed, I turned back to the elders, my eyes hard. "Josie is healing. You lot are feeding off gossip. You should be ashamed."

"She was playing a stupid game," I snapped. "A moment of recklessness. Not instability."

"Yes, Alpha," they chorused, heads lowered.

Harsh looked down briefly. "Still, Alpha, we must—"

"She claimed she saw her dead mother in a pool of blood," Harsh added.

"I’ll take you back to your room," he said gently.

I rubbed my jaw. "Josie needs to pull through. Fast. Or this will get worse."

"Get out," Varen barked at her. "Now."

The silence stretched so long, I could hear the echo of their heartbeats in their chests.

Her eyes widened. "Do you all hate my company now?"

Satisfied, I dismissed them, and we made our way to Varen’s room—Josie’s chosen sanctuary.

One by one, the elders bowed and filed out of the room, not daring to speak another word.

"Let them in," he ordered, the command slicing like a blade.

Jealousy.

"Out," I growled.

Then, he scooped her up—just like that—his arms cradling her against his chest.

And I hated that I understood it so well.