The Three Who Chose Me

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.