CHAPTER 188: HOLLOWED LIGHT

Josie

I was running before I even realized where my feet were taking me.

My lungs burned, and my tears blurred the world around me into streaks of gray and silver. Every breath felt like glass shredding through my chest, but I couldn’t stop—not when every heartbeat sounded like Thorne’s labored breathing, not when guilt clawed at me like something alive.

The forest blurred past, branches whipping at my arms. When I finally broke through the clearing and the familiar roof of the pack house came into view, I nearly collapsed from relief and despair tangled together. My legs trembled beneath me. My clothes were torn from the fight, dirt smeared across my skin, blood—Thorne’s blood—still staining my palms.

I pressed a hand to my mouth and swallowed a sob. "I’m sorry," I whispered to no one. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen."

The house loomed before me like a monument of judgment. I hesitated before pushing open the door, praying no one would see me. But fate was never that kind to me.

A few maids looked up from their chores, their chatter dying as soon as their eyes landed on me. Their gazes flicked over my messy hair, the red stains, the exhaustion etched into my face.

"Luna Josie?" one of them asked softly. "You... you look unwell. Is everything alright?"

I forced a smile that trembled at the edges. "I’m fine," I lied, my voice cracking halfway through. "I was... with my mate."

It was the first thing that came to mind. Their eyes widened for a moment, then a knowing giggle escaped one of them, and the tension broke. I managed a weak chuckle, though it felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

Before they could ask anything else, I slipped past them and hurried upstairs. My legs nearly gave out when I reached my room. I shut the door quietly behind me and leaned against it, breathing hard.

The room felt like a stranger’s space—cold, too clean, too still. The faint scent of Thorne’s cologne lingered in the air, mixing with Varen’s sharp musk and Kiel’s faint trace of wood and storm. My throat tightened.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I grabbed a bag.

I didn’t think. I just moved—pulling old clothes from drawers, tossing them in without care. My hands were shaking too much to fold anything. The sound of fabric rustling filled the silence, frantic and uneven.

My eyes caught on the small plate of food left on the dresser—bread and eggs, still warm. My stomach churned with hunger and guilt. For a moment, I hated myself for it. How can you think of food now? But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.

I wrapped the bread in a napkin, stuffed it into the bag, and whispered, "Just in case."

I don’t know why I said it. Maybe to convince myself that I was doing something smart, something that made sense.

When I opened the window, the night air slapped my face—cold, sharp, unforgiving. The moon hung high, watching me like it always did, silent and distant. I swung my bag over my shoulder and climbed out. My feet hit the ground with a dull thud, and I started running again.

I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I couldn’t stay.

The pack lands stretched before me like a graveyard of memories—every corner, every tree, every path whispering Thorne’s name. The guilt was suffocating.

When I reached the dirt road leading to the border, I saw the faint glow of lanterns—an approaching chariot, wooden and weathered, creaking as it rolled closer.

A chance.

I stepped into the shadows and waited until it slowed. My heart pounded as I pulled the scarf from my bag and wrapped it around my face. If I could just get across the border, I’d be free. No one would question a cloaked woman catching a ride.

The chariot stopped beside me. The driver’s face was obscured by the brim of his hat.

"Heading out?" his gravelly voice asked.

I nodded quickly. "Yes. Just to the next village."

He didn’t ask for a name or reason—just jerked his head for me to climb in.

I hesitated for half a second before stepping up, settling on the rough wooden seat. The wheels creaked again, and we began to move.

For a while, the silence was comforting. The forest was fading behind us. My heart was slowly beginning to steady.

But then I noticed something—something wrong.

He hadn’t asked me where I wanted to go. Not even once.

The horses were moving faster now, their hooves striking harder against the dirt. Too fast.

My pulse spiked. "You’re going the wrong way," I said, forcing a calm tone.

No answer.

"Did you hear me?" I demanded, gripping the edge of the chariot. "I said stop!"

The driver’s shoulders tensed—but he didn’t slow down. Instead, he chuckled, low and familiar.

That laugh froze my blood.

"Liam," I breathed, my voice cracking with horror.

He turned his head slightly, and the firelight caught his face. The grin on his lips was pure malice.

"Missed me, sweetheart?"

Panic slammed into me like a wall. I lunged for the reins, but he caught my wrist midair, twisting it painfully.

"Let go!" I screamed, kicking at him. The horses neighed wildly, the chariot swaying dangerously.

Liam laughed again, eyes glinting. "Still fiery, even when you’re cornered. I almost forgot how much fun you are."

I yanked my hand free and grabbed for the reins again, but before I could pull, his fist connected with the side of my head. The world spun, pain exploding across my skull. I barely had time to gasp before everything went dark.

---

When I woke, the air was thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood. My head pounded, every breath scraping my throat raw.

I was lying on cold stone, my wrists bound tightly behind me. My vision blurred, but I could make out shapes—seven figures cloaked in black, their heads bowed, lips moving in an eerie unison.

They were chanting.

The sound crawled under my skin, sharp and rhythmic, like a pulse that didn’t belong to this world. A dim red light pulsed from the center of the room, where a cone-shaped vessel sat, glowing faintly.

And then I saw him.

Liam.

He stood in the middle of it all, his eyes locked on me with twisted triumph. Behind him, the witch—her pale face half-hidden beneath her dark hood—watched me with a sneer that made bile rise in my throat.

"Let me go!" I shouted, struggling against the ropes cutting into my wrists. "You can’t do this!"

Liam chuckled. "Oh, Josie. You still think you’re in control." He walked closer, crouching down until his breath brushed my ear. "You have no idea what kind of power you’ve been sitting on all this time. You think the Alphas wanted you for love?" He laughed. "No, sweetheart. They wanted you because of this."

He gestured toward the cone. The red glow brightened, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

"What... what is that?" I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

The witch stepped forward, her voice as smooth and venomous as silk. "That, my dear, is your power."