The Three Who Chose Me
Chapter 52: Between Fire and Thorns

Chapter 52: Between Fire and Thorns

Thorne

I should’ve stopped it before it started.

But I didn’t.

I stood there, watching Marcy and Michelle circle each other like feral cats, their words turning sharper, uglier, feeding off the tension that never left the damn air anymore. I didn’t step in soon enough, didn’t grab hold of that thin thread of control before it snapped.

And when it did—

"Enough!" I growled and shoved between them, but my hand caught Marcy a second too late and far too hard. She stumbled back with a cry, her foot slipping out from under her. The wet stone around the pool gave no grace. Her body hit the edge with a crack, and she collapsed near the water, groaning.

"Shit," I muttered, instinctively reaching toward her, but before I could do anything more—

Josie’s voice pierced through the air like a scream from another world.

"I saw her! I saw her—she was drowning in her own blood—my mother—she was laughing—"

Her cries tore out of her throat like claws against stone.

I froze.

My chest tightened, and I felt it again—that helplessness. That cold, useless fear that I couldn’t protect her from the monsters in her head.

Varen was already at her side, scooping her up like she weighed nothing and whispering something to her that didn’t reach me. Her sobs grew louder, more guttural, as if she were tearing herself apart from the inside out.

"I didn’t mean to hurt her—" Michelle started, her voice a breathy whimper. "It breaks my heart to see her like this."

I turned slowly.

She had the audacity to wipe the corner of her eye, as if a tear had dared to show itself.

"I was only trying to help," she continued, glancing toward Marcy, who was now crawling back from the poolside, her face twisted in pain. "But of course, that one acts like some deranged soul who owns Josie."

My eyes snapped back to her. "You think now’s the time to insult someone who just hit her head because of your drama?"

"I’m just saying, she—"

Marcy pulled herself to her feet, limping heavily, hair soaked and clinging to her cheeks. But her pride didn’t waver, not even a bit. She staggered toward Michelle, ignoring the throb in her ankle, and then—she swung.

Michelle shrieked as Marcy’s hand connected with her cheek.

"That’s for trying to poison my best friend with your snake oil," Marcy spat, her voice shaking with rage. "You don’t get to act like you care."

Kiel rushed in to stop the madness, grabbing Marcy from behind and holding her back. "Alright, alright—enough!"

I mind-linked him quickly, my tone firm. Get her to Josie. Calm her down.

He nodded and half-carried Marcy out, her limp pronounced, but her fury very much intact.

I turned to Michelle, who was busy smoothing her hair down like any of this had been beneath her. She grumbled under her breath about how Marcy had no class, that she was always acting like some wannabe Luna, as if she owned the damn estate.

"She’s territorial," Michelle muttered. "So uncivilized. And I don’t understand why anyone thinks she’s fit to be around Josie."

I grabbed Michelle’s arm without ceremony and dragged her to one of the lounge chairs by the pool, shoving her down with more force than I probably should’ve.

She blinked up at me, her lower lip pouting slightly, but I wasn’t playing into that game. Not anymore.

"Now," I said, leveling my gaze at her, "I’m going to ask you one last time—are you sure about what you said?"

Michelle tilted her head, her eyes glimmering with something I couldn’t name. "You’re asking if I’d endanger her?"

"I’m asking," I bit out, "if this thing you’re trying to give us is actually effective—or if this is just your twisted way of getting back into our good graces."

She smiled, slow and far too smug for someone who’d just been slapped into next week. "Thorne, I know what I am. I’m not stupid enough to try something reckless when the entire pack would hang me for it. I want my competition lucid, not drooling in a bed. I want her at her best. That’s what would make me worthy, wouldn’t it?"

I stared at her for a long moment. Then longer still.

"Trust me," she whispered, touching her fingers to my forearm. "You’ll see I’m right."

I didn’t move.

I didn’t trust her, not in the way she wanted.

But I wasn’t blind either. I’d seen Josie spiral deeper into something that even the witch couldn’t predict. If Michelle’s suggestion—if this wolfsbane treatment—could do even the smallest bit of good, then it was worth the risk.

"The doctor confirmed what you said," I finally muttered. "If this goes wrong, you’ll regret ever stepping foot in this house."

Michelle’s expression didn’t even twitch. "It won’t."

I took the wrapped vial and herbs from her outstretched hand and dismissed her with a wave. "Don’t speak about Josie’s illness to anyone. Not a whisper. If I hear it come up in conversation even once—"

"I won’t," she interrupted, already walking off with her head high like she’d won something. Like she’d earned points in some game only she was playing.

I hated that she always walked like that. Like she knew something we didn’t.

I turned back toward the hallway and made my way to the east wing where Josie’s room was. The shouting started before I even stepped in.

"I said no! You’re not giving her anything that comes from that snake!" Marcy was yelling, voice hoarse and edged with desperation.

"She’s not stable, Marcy," Kiel’s voice came, followed by the sound of something falling. "We need to help her—"

"You think I don’t know that?! You think I haven’t been here, night and day, watching her fall apart piece by piece?!"

I stepped in, letting my Alpha presence flood the room like a wave crashing through chaos. Everyone froze. Marcy turned to look at me, her face flushed and tear-streaked.

"Enough," I said, the command layered thick in my voice.

Her mouth parted slightly, but she obeyed.

"You don’t know what this is going to do to her," she said after a beat. "You don’t know what Michelle’s planning."

"If something happens to Josie because of you," she added, pointing a trembling finger at me, "you’re going to be the one to regret it."

And with that, she limped out, leaving silence in her wake.

I growled low in my throat, the disrespect sticking to my skin like oil. But Kiel didn’t help. He turned to me with a glare.

"You really think she didn’t want to be here for Josie?" he asked bitterly. "That girl’s given more of herself for Josie than anyone in this house."

"She almost let her die when her parents showed up at the gates," I snapped.

"And Michelle didn’t?" Kiel barked back. "You’re trusting her over Marcy?"

I was about to respond when Varen’s voice sliced through the tension.

"Come. Now."

We hurried toward Josie’s room.

She was curled on the floor by the foot of her bed, her knees drawn to her chest, whispering things under her breath.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... I didn’t know—I didn’t know they’d die—"

Her voice cracked with every syllable, and her eyes weren’t focused. She didn’t even know we were in the room.

Kiel’s throat bobbed as he whispered, "Thorne..."

I stepped forward, knelt beside her, and held out the vial.

One shot. That’s all it would take.

I pressed the liquid to her lips and tilted her chin gently. She hesitated, then drank.

The effect was nearly instant.

Her body stilled. The tremors slowed. Her eyes blinked and seemed to regain focus.

She looked up at us—really looked.

And for the first time in days, I saw her.

She gave the smallest, broken whisper. "Can I snuggle?"

Varen dropped to his knees and opened his arms. Kiel sat beside him, and I eased down on the other side. We rearranged ourselves so she was in the middle, tucked between all three of us.

We pecked her forehead one after another, like a vow. Like a promise.

"You’re going to be okay," I whispered.

"You’re safe now," Varen added.

"We’ve got you," Kiel finished.

And for a while, none of us moved. We just held her. Because sometimes, that was all we could do.

Sometimes, it had to be enough.