CHAPTER 129: SILENT WOUNDS

Josie

I tugged at my hair so hard that it stung at my scalp, but the ache was nothing compared to the twisting in my chest. Every breath felt heavy, every thought frayed at the edges. Things weren’t just bad—they were teetering on the edge of worse, and I could feel it, like a storm pressing against the horizon, waiting to break.

If only they had never found out about my gift.

I swallowed hard, bitterness coating my tongue. If I had been allowed to handle it quietly, privately, on my own terms, maybe things would be different now. Maybe I wouldn’t feel the crushing weight of their distrust, their distance. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like I was unraveling thread by thread in front of them, helpless to stitch myself back together.

And Liam—damn Liam—was at the center of it all.

I was so tired of him. His presence had become a splinter I couldn’t dig out, a constant irritation that festered. He had been my teacher, yes, but now he was my tormentor, deliberately pressing against every fault line in my life until the cracks widened. And the worst part? My mates’ jealousy of him, their suspicion, their anger—it all made everything so much harder than it already was. He was poison, not just to me, but to us.

I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to move before my thoughts consumed me. I went back into the house, my steps sluggish as though every hallway resisted me. I stripped out of my clothes and changed into a loose outfit that hung softly over my skin. I didn’t want to feel constricted anymore. I wanted something—anything—that felt like relief.

One of the maids must have seen the strain in my face, because she appeared with a steaming cup of tea. "It’s calming," she said softly, her voice careful, like she feared I might shatter.

I accepted it with trembling hands. The tea was warm, fragrant, almost too soothing. The moment it touched my lips, a wave of calm wrapped around me, thick and heavy, dragging me under.

Sleep claimed me before I could resist.

And my dreams—gods, my dreams weren’t the gentle kind. They burned hot, coiling low in my stomach. In them, I was tangled in my mates’ arms, their hands on my skin, their mouths on mine, the bond blazing bright and unbroken. Desire thrummed through me, sharper than I had ever imagined. I could almost taste them, could almost feel the press of their bodies against mine, could almost hear their voices calling my name with raw need.

The intensity of it made me jolt awake, a sharp gasp tearing from my lips. My body trembled, heat still curling through me even as the reality of my room closed in. The clock glowed faintly on the wall—2 a.m.

Not right.

Too early. Too empty. Too wrong.

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady the frantic beat of my heart. The dreams clung to me, vivid and invasive, making me feel unsteady in my own skin. I couldn’t imagine being with my mates like that, not really—not when things were this fractured between us. The thought made me nervous, made my stomach knot. They weren’t in good moods. None of us were. And yet my own subconscious had betrayed me, painting images of us I couldn’t shake.

I dragged myself to the shower, letting the water run over me in an attempt to rinse away the heat, the unease, the dream’s clinging edges. It didn’t work.

When I stepped out, towel wrapped tight around me, my phone rang. The shrill sound sliced through the quiet, jolting me like a blow.

The screen glowed with a number I didn’t recognize at first. Then I realized—it was coming from the cottage.

My stomach sank. Liam.

I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to hear his voice, not now, not ever again if I had the choice. But as much as I despised him, I couldn’t deny one truth: he was still my teacher. He still knew things I needed to learn, and I couldn’t keep running from that.

I inhaled slowly, bracing myself, and answered.

"Josie?" His voice came through, rough with static.

I bit back a sigh. "What do you want, Liam?"

There was a pause, then a small chuckle. "I was just... trying my hand with the landline. Didn’t think it would actually go through. Guess I got lucky."

I rolled my eyes, glad he couldn’t see it. "So you called me just to gloat about using a phone? Really?"

"No." His voice shifted, strangely earnest. "I called because I wanted to talk to you."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Then talk. Don’t waste my time with games."

"I..." He hesitated, and I could almost picture him pacing. "I’m sorry."

The word knocked the breath out of me. My hand froze, my grip tightening around the phone. Slowly, I pulled it away from my ear, staring at it as if it had grown teeth.

Then I pressed it back against me. "What did you just say?"

"I said I’m sorry," he repeated, firmer this time.

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Did someone hypnotize you? Or are you drunk?"

"No." His tone was steady, almost too steady. "I’m not drunk. I’m not under anyone’s control. I’ve been... thinking. About everything. And I realized I’ve made mistakes."

Suspicion prickled at my skin. "What mistakes?"

"I pushed too far. I wanted you to be the best you could be, but in doing that, I overstepped. I intruded into your personal life, your bond with your mates. That wasn’t my place." He let out a low breath. "I wanted to help you succeed, but I only made things worse. For you. For them."

The quiet honesty in his words startled me more than anger ever had.

"You—" I faltered, searching for the right words. "You actually mean that?"

"I do," he said. "And I want to make things right. Not just between you and me, but between you and them. No more tension. No more interference."

I blinked rapidly, my throat tight. "How?"

"You’ll find out in the morning," he said. "For now, sleep. I’ll be there for breakfast, and I’ll explain everything then."

Panic flickered in me. "Liam—don’t do anything stupid. Don’t try anything reckless, not with them."

He gave a low laugh, and I hated how tired it sounded. "You’re such a worrywart. Don’t worry, Josie. I’ll handle it."

The line went dead before I could press further.

I stared at the phone long after the call ended, unease gnawing at me. His words lingered, foreign and unsettling. Liam apologizing. Liam claiming he wanted to fix things. It didn’t fit, didn’t make sense.

I hardly slept the rest of the night.

By morning, I was restless and raw, exhaustion clinging to my bones. I dragged myself out of bed, showered again, and dressed before heading to the dining hall.

Voices drifted out before I reached the doorway. Familiar ones.

My heart stumbled.

When I stepped inside, my worst fear solidified.

My mates—Kiel, Varen, Thorne—were all there. And with them, seated like he belonged, was Liam.

My stomach dropped.

He was already speaking, his voice calm but edged with urgency. "Just give me two minutes. That’s all I ask."

The sight of me froze them all. Their heads turned, their gazes locking onto me.

Thorne’s voice was sharp, defensive. "What are you doing here, Josie?"

I lifted my chin, though my insides trembled. "It’s breakfast time. I’m hungry. So I came to eat."

The silence stretched, heavy and suspicious.

Varen’s jaw tightened. "Go back inside. We’ll handle this."

"No," I snapped, stepping further in. "I’m done being sidelined. If Liam has something to say, I’ll hear it too. Start talking, Liam."

Kiel’s eyes narrowed at me, but I ignored the sting of his disapproval. I refused to back down. Not this time.

Liam glanced at me, then at them. His mouth set in a grim line. "The reason I’ve been insufferable—the reason I’ve been pushing, antagonizing—it wasn’t just me. It was an order."

Thorne’s brow furrowed. "An order?"

"Yes." Liam’s gaze darkened. "From the witch."