CHAPTER 113: SHATTERED BLAME

Josie

I still couldn’t believe what was happening. The whole scene played over and over in my head like a cruel play I hadn’t agreed to star in. My stomach twisted, and part of me wanted to scream at everyone, throw something, anything—just to shatter this suffocating tension. But somehow, I forced myself to stay collected, at least on the outside. Inside, I was breaking into sharp, uneven pieces.

Thorne’s voice cut through my haze, low and bitter. "Did you hear what that man said?" His tone was like a blade scraping against stone. "If I’d chosen Michelle over you, she’d be the one warming my bed right now—not lying in a hospital bed."

His words were cruel, calculated to wound, and they did. I flinched. My lips parted, but nothing came out. What could I say? That he was wrong? That he wasn’t being fair? That maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t asked for any of this? But the words stayed lodged in my throat, heavy and bitter.

I just stared at him as he turned and walked away, leaving me stranded in silence. My arms trembled until I pressed them against my body. My chest felt hollow, like everything was caving in at once.

I sank into the nearest chair, burying my face in my hands. Trouble. That’s all I ever seemed to be—more trouble stacked upon itself until no one could tell where the first mistake had begun. Now, I had to save both brothers somehow. Both of them. And the strange, twisted part? I felt no pity for Michelle. None. In my book, she deserved every shred of pain that had been carved into her fate.

When I finally stepped outside, everyone was moving—like a tide I had no choice but to follow. They were heading toward the hospital, and I hurried after them, my heart hammering like it wanted to leap out of my chest and escape this nightmare.

Thorne wouldn’t look at me. Not once. His face was locked in stone, and the absence of his gaze felt like a punishment harsher than words. My gut twisted, knowing it was my fault. My fault he was like this. My fault everything was unraveling. And there wasn’t a thing I could do to reverse it.

Varen’s eyes flicked toward me, then Kiel’s. Both looked at me strangely, something unreadable flickering there, and it only added to the tight knot of dread in my stomach. What were they thinking? What did they see when they looked at me? A liar? A fool? A traitor?

I was grateful when we reached the hospital because it gave me something else to focus on. But the relief evaporated in an instant.

Michelle was gone.

Vanished.

Yes, she had been injured—badly hit—but someone had still managed to let her slip through the cracks. My breath caught in my throat as reality sank in. Someone had helped her escape.

The air snapped with tension when the truth emerged. Onlookers whispered, some too loud, as if eager to see how we would react. Their words came together like knives in my ears: her father. It was her father who had orchestrated the whole thing. The cowardly escape, the betrayal, the manipulation. All of it.

The atmosphere thickened with rage. Thorne’s jaw clenched, his entire body radiating fury. "Unbelievable," he barked, his voice cracking like thunder. "This is what happens when we let sentiment cloud judgment." His glare swung toward me, sharp and venomous. "You did this."

I froze, the accusation lodging itself deep into my chest. My lips trembled. "I—I didn’t—"

"Don’t," he snapped, cutting me off before I could defend myself.

My throat burned, but the words dried up anyway. My arms wrapped around myself as if they could shield me from the weight of his fury. Tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them. They blurred my vision until everything—the sterile walls, the accusing stares—melted into one suffocating blur.

"I just..." My voice cracked, breaking through the silence. "I just want to be alone."

No one answered. They just stared, their silence almost worse than their anger. My tears spilled over, hot and relentless. I shook my head and whispered, "It’s all my fault. Everything. I can’t—" My voice collapsed into a sob. "I can’t stand it anymore."

No one stopped me as I turned and walked away, shoulders shaking, heart pounding.

Thorne growled low in his throat—a sound I knew was meant for me—but he didn’t follow. He didn’t say a word. Somehow, I’d known he wouldn’t.

By the time I reached the pack house, the world felt eerily still. Quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that makes you realize how loud your own heartbeat really is.

I climbed the stairs to my room, legs heavy as if carrying chains, and collapsed onto the bed. My hands shook as I pressed them against my eyes, desperate to stop the flood of tears.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

I dragged it out of my pocket, and Marcy’s name lit up the screen. I hesitated, then answered with a cracked, "Hello?"

Her voice came through sharp and concerned. "Josie? I just heard what happened."

I swallowed hard, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah," I whispered.

She didn’t waste time. "Thorne... he’s never hit a woman before. Ever. I’m honestly shocked. I didn’t think he was capable of something like that."

A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp and humorless. "Well, now you know. Thorne’s a monster."

"Josie—"

"No." My voice was hoarse but firm. "I don’t want to hear excuses for him. Not anymore. Despite everything I’ve done for him... everything I’ve sacrificed—he’s never treated me right. Not once."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment I thought Marcy had hung up. But then she sighed, long and heavy.

"I just..." she began softly, "I just don’t want to see you hurt like this."

I pressed my hand against my chest, where the ache felt unbearable. "It’s too late for that, Marcy. I’m already hurt."

And as the silence stretched between us, I realized it wasn’t just Thorne who had broken me. It was everything. The secrets, the betrayals, the endless cycle of blame. I was drowning in it.

And I didn’t know how much longer I could keep pretending I was strong enough to stay afloat.