Chapter 156: Burn Me, Break Me
Josie
I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was heartbreak, or maybe it was the cruel trick the universe played when it decided to tie my soul to three men who couldn’t decide if they wanted me or wanted to destroy me.
Whatever it was, I found myself curled up in the lounge, clutching a pillow to my chest, my mind replaying last night in sharp fragments that wouldn’t let me breathe.
I was beyond annoyed. No—annoyed wasn’t the right word. I was livid. With Thorne. With myself. With everything.
Why the hell had I let it happen? Why had I been foolish enough to give him my virginity, after years of him treating me like I was some nuisance, some accident he wished he could erase?
The answer was simple: because I was weak. Weak when it came to him. Weak when it came to that look in his eyes, the way he kissed me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this world. Weak, because somewhere deep down, despite all his cruelty, I had wanted it.
And now? Now he didn’t even remember.
Tears slipped before I could stop them. Angry tears. I swiped at them, but they came anyway, hot and humiliating. My throat burned as I buried my face in the pillow, trying to will myself to get it together.
"Are you crying because you lost your virginity to my brother," a voice said behind me, smooth, calm, mocking, "or because he isn’t craving you anymore?"
I gasped, jerking upright, my eyes flying to the figure standing behind the couch. Varen.
He leaned casually against the backrest, his tall frame—too tall, too intimidating—casting a shadow over me. His blue eyes glimmered with something unreadable, his wavy red hair falling messily across his forehead. The silver glint of his earrings caught the light, and for a moment, I hated how stupidly good he looked.
"How dare you," I snapped, my voice hoarse from crying.
One of his brows lifted. "I’m only asking a question."
"A cruel one," I scolded, pushing off the couch to stand, forcing myself closer to him though my chest still heaved. "You don’t get to say things like that. Not to me."
"Did I hit a nerve?" he asked softly. His lips curved faintly, not quite a smirk, but enough to make my blood boil. "Does it feel bad hearing the truth?"
"Bad?" My voice cracked as I glared at him. "Do you think this is some kind of game? Do you have any idea what I feel?"
"I don’t care," he said flatly, turning to leave.
The audacity. The nerve.
Before he could move away, I darted in front of him, planting myself in his path. My heart thudded wildly, but I refused to step aside. "Don’t you dare walk away from me."
His jaw flexed. He looked down at me, his height making me feel small, but I refused to cower.
"You’re going out of character," I accused, my voice lower now, sharper, trembling with the storm of emotions in my chest. "The calm one, the reasonable one—the peacemaker. But this isn’t you. You’re jealous."
His eyes flickered. He didn’t deny it.
My breath caught. The silence between us crackled like lightning, dangerous and alive.
I studied him properly then. Six-foot-five of solid muscle and quiet danger. His light skin was marked with tattoos that peeked from under his shirt, the intricate ink trailing down toward his thigh. His red hair was tousled, untamed, and the earrings glinted with every slight movement. His blue eyes burned like frost set aflame.
"What are you going to do about it?" I asked, my voice softer now, taunting, trembling with a defiance I wasn’t sure I actually possessed.
He tilted his head, his gaze traveling over me slowly, deliberately. "Normally," he murmured, "I’d discipline you with my tongue." His lips twitched. "But I’m not my brother."
The air whooshed out of me. My body went hot—too hot, like fire licking my skin from the inside.
I swallowed hard, my voice a whisper. "Then show me how."
His eyes darkened.
Before either of us could move, a voice interrupted. "Miss Josie?"
I flinched, spinning around. A maid stood nervously at the edge of the room, wringing her hands. "Alpha Thorne is asking where you are."
I stiffened. The mere mention of his name twisted the knife in my chest deeper.
"Tell him," I said coldly, "to go to hell."
The maid gasped. "Miss Josie, I—"
"Did you not hear me?" My voice rose, sharp and unyielding. "Go. Tell him. And leave."
Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if to argue, but one look at my face was enough. She bowed quickly and scurried out.
Silence fell again, heavy and suffocating.
I turned back to Varen, my pulse pounding in my ears. I had no idea what was wrong with me, why I was like this—why I was so tired of pretending, so tired of being tugged back and forth in this endless, merciless push and pull with the triplets.
But I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t going to back down now.
"Show me," I demanded, my voice fierce even though my insides shook. "Show me how you would discipline me. Your way."
He stared at me, then laughed—low, rough, almost bitter. "You’re asking for trouble." His gaze softened for a heartbeat before hardening again. "Josie, I couldn’t bear it if my heart ended up stamped all over the floor, if you don’t love me."
I rolled my eyes, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Stop whining like a big baby," I hissed, staring up into those impossible blue eyes. "You’re an Alpha werewolf. Claim me like one."
Something snapped.
Varen growled—deep, primal, vibrating through the air and through me. Before I could catch my breath, he grabbed me, swung me around effortlessly, my back hitting the couch. His hands were rough as they bunched up my clothes, dragging the fabric upward until cool air kissed my skin.
"Kneel," he ordered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
My heart pounded against my ribs. Heat pooled low in my stomach. I should have felt fear. I didn’t. I felt alive.
"I may be known as the peacemaker," Varen murmured darkly against my ear, "but don’t mistake me, Josie. I am not a gentle man."