The Three Who Chose Me

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."