The Three Who Chose Me
Chapter 58: The Madness Beneath the Surface

Chapter 58: The Madness Beneath the Surface

Thorne

I could hear the tension before I stepped into the room. Not just hear it—feel it. It pulsed through the walls like a second heartbeat, thick and charged and stifling. The sharp clang of voices collided in the air, Varen’s tone high and laced with desperation, Kiel’s voice low and edged in fury, every syllable a blade drawn tight against restraint.

And at the center of it all... Josie.

The moment I stepped in, my gaze found her. She lay crumpled on the floor like a porcelain doll knocked from its shelf. Her skin was pale—unnaturally so—sweat glistening across her brow like dew on morning glass. Her chest rose and fell in uneven, shallow bursts. Each breath sounded like it might be her last.

"The medicine helped her," I said tightly, stepping forward, trying to assert control over the chaos I’d just walked into. "She’s not hallucinating anymore. She’s calmer—"

"Calmer?" Varen’s voice cracked like a whip across my spine. He looked deranged—his hair wild, shirt half-untucked, fists clenched so hard his knuckles had gone white. "She tried to kill herself, Thorne! What the hell are you talking about? You call this calm? She had a knife to her wrist!"

I gritted my teeth. "The medicine subdued her episodes. You weren’t even there when she—"

"That’s not the point!" Kiel barked, cutting me off. He was kneeling beside her, his hand clutching hers like a lifeline. There was something desperate in his eyes—something breaking. "You never listen, Thorne! You just throw things down her throat and expect them to fix everything. You want to sedate the problem, not solve it. You’re going to lose her if you keep playing god!"

"Don’t talk to me about losing her," I snapped, stepping toward him. "I’ve been the one holding this pack together while the two of you run around like impulsive children."

"You mean while you experiment on her like she’s some broken tool you’re trying to rewire?" Kiel spat back, his voice shaking with restrained rage. "She’s not a science project, Thorne! She’s—she’s Josie."

"Enough!" I growled.

But I didn’t say it.

The voice didn’t come from me.

It came from the witch.

She stood at the edge of the room like a blade unsheathed—tall and furious, eyes gleaming like fire trapped beneath ice. Her cloak flared around her like smoke, and the power rolling off her made the room feel ten degrees colder.

"You are disgraceful," she said, her voice low, trembling with fury. "The goddess gave you one task. One precious soul to protect. And here you are, squabbling like pups while she drowns in madness."

Her gaze swept over each of us—cutting, judging, damning.

"This is no longer my concern," she hissed. "Clearly, my assistance is wasted on you."

And without another word, without a backward glance, she vanished—her cloak snapping sharply as if in judgment.

"Damn it!" Kiel roared, springing to his feet and punching the nearest wall. Plaster cracked under the force of it, leaving a deep, angry gash in the surface.

My heart thudded heavily in my chest. The silence that followed the witch’s exit was thick, oppressive.

Josie stirred on the floor.

A soft whimper escaped her, and her lips moved—but the words were slurred, tangled like thoughts fighting through fog. I dropped to my knees and scooped her into my arms before either of them could stop me.

She trembled violently against my chest.

"It’s okay," I murmured, wrapping my arms around her smaller frame, tucking her head beneath my chin. "You’re safe now. I’ve got you."

"Put her down, Thorne," Varen said quietly. But his voice wasn’t gentle. It was edged in steel.

"Not now," I muttered, not loosening my grip. "She needs comfort, not orders. Don’t look at her like she’s guilty for this. Don’t you dare."

"She needs us," Kiel whispered, brushing damp hair from her face. His eyes flicked to mine. "All of us. Even if we’re screwing everything up."

Josie clutched my shirt tighter.

"I like you," she whispered, her voice broken, barely a breath. "All of you. Please stop fighting. Please..."

Her words struck me like a blade. I felt them in my spine, in my ribs. In every scar I had long forgotten.

Kiel reached for her other hand, his touch so gentle it could’ve been mistaken for wind. "We’re not fighting anymore, sweetheart. We promise."

We carried her back to her room together—me holding her close, Kiel keeping a hand on her back the whole way, Varen opening doors with mechanical stiffness. She was weak. Her head lolled on my shoulder. Her breathing had steadied, but her body remained limp, fragile.

Once we got her into bed, I turned sharply to Kiel. "Check the room. I want every sharp object gone. Under the bed. In the drawers. Bathroom. Everything."

He nodded and began moving without a word, opening drawers, sweeping under the bed with careful precision.

"Keep her away from anything Marcy gives her too," I added. "I don’t trust anyone right now."

Kiel grunted his agreement, tossing a small decorative blade into the waste bin with a muttered curse.

On my way out, I spotted Marcy lingering in the hallway. Her hands shook, mascara streaking down her cheeks.

I grabbed her arm. "Stop crying," I growled, dragging her aside. "We don’t have time for this."

She blinked up at me, eyes wide and watery. "I didn’t mean—"

"Listen carefully," I interrupted. "Someone’s spreading rumors about Josie. I want names. I don’t care who you have to spy on, or who you have to threaten. Find out who started it."

She stammered, "I—I think it’s Michelle."

"Don’t think, Marcy. Know." My voice dropped to a growl. "You’re not some fragile omega. You were trained for war. So act like it."

Her spine straightened slightly. She wiped her eyes and nodded. "I’ll find out. I promise."

I let her go and turned to Varen. "I need to check something. Stay with them. Help Kiel watch her."

He gave a tight nod. "Go. We’ve got her."

I headed for the witch’s clearing. The air grew colder as I neared, the trees darker, older. She was waiting—of course she was. As if she knew I’d come crawling.

Her gaze was unreadable. "You weren’t supposed to return."

"I need answers," I said without preamble. "About the wolfsbane in her medicine."

She studied me, then drew a small vial from her robes. She poured the liquid into a shallow bowl and muttered something under her breath. It began to bubble, then turn black—inky and thick like tar.

"This isn’t ordinary," she said grimly. "It’s rare. Crafted for cruelty. It doesn’t kill. It unmakes. Slowly. First hallucinations... then paranoia... emotional decay... and eventually..."

"Madness," I finished.

She nodded.

A chill wrapped around my bones. Someone had done this to Josie. Deliberately. Calculated cruelty. And it had happened under our roof.

I mind-linked my brothers immediately.

Thorne: Kiel. Varen. Destroy the medicine she’s been taking. All of it. Burn it. No traces. She was being poisoned.

Kiel responded instantly, voice sharp and disbelieving.

Kiel: What?! Who the hell—?

Varen: I’m on it. It’s all going up in flames.

My fists curled. Rage surged in my veins like wildfire. Whoever did this thought we were blind. Thought Josie was weak. Thought we wouldn’t notice.

But they forgot something.

We weren’t broken. We were waking up.

And now?

Now, we were going to burn their world down.