CHAPTER 69: THE FRACTURES BENEATH THE SURFACE

Thorne

I stood by her bedside longer than I should have, watching her chest rise and fall in shallow, uneven breaths. Her lashes twitched as she slept, her skin pale against the pillow, like she hadn’t really rested in weeks. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe none of us had.

I reached down and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, then bent and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"You should rest, little flame," I murmured. "We’ll be alright."

Even as I said it, I wasn’t sure if I believed it. Not with everything tearing at the seams—between us, between my brothers. Between her and the world.

Still, I straightened, gave her one last look, and stepped out quietly.

The hallway outside the room was quieter than it had any right to be. The kind of silence that didn’t soothe—it pressed on your chest like an invisible weight. I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake it off, and made my way down the corridor toward the stairwell.

As I turned the corner, voices caught my attention.

Kiel.

I slowed my pace.

He was by the front archway, deep in conversation with his Beta—body tense, eyes sharp. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn’t light. His jaw was clenched so tightly I thought it might snap. His Beta said something else and gave Kiel a pat on the shoulder before walking off, leaving my brother standing alone, arms folded, scowl cemented on his face.

Varen, who must’ve seen the tail end of the exchange, waited until the Beta disappeared before walking up.

I stayed back, half-hidden behind a corner column. Not out of pettiness—just caution. Something about the air between them felt like a lit fuse, and I knew if I walked in now, I might ignite it.

"You good?" Varen asked, voice even but wary.

Kiel didn’t look at him. "I’m fine."

"You sure about that?"

Kiel finally turned. His eyes flared—wounded, furious. "Why does it matter to you?"

Varen’s brows pinched. "Because I know you, Kiel. And this? This isn’t you. You’re always the one talking us down, keeping us level. But lately? You’ve been burning hotter than hellfire."

"Don’t you dare—" Kiel snapped, stepping closer. "Don’t talk to me like you’re above me. You think you’re so fucking calm, don’t you? You think you’ve got everything figured out just because Josie looks at you a little longer than she does at me?"

Varen didn’t even blink. "This isn’t about her."

"Of course it is!" Kiel barked. "Everything’s about her now. You don’t get it, Varen. You’ve always had the easier part. Always. You don’t know what it feels like to be second-guessed every damn time. To have your ideas picked apart until they’re nothing."

I closed my eyes for a moment, then reopened them.

This had been building for a while. Not just today. Not just since Michelle.

Since before.

"You think I enjoy that?" Kiel continued. "You think it feels good being the brother who always has to prove he’s not the screw-up?"

Varen’s voice dropped to a low growl. "So now this is about me belittling you?"

Kiel’s lips twisted. "Isn’t it?"

Varen’s hands clenched at his sides, the only visible crack in his restraint. "You’re changing, Kiel," he said tightly. "And not in a good way. You’re letting this shit eat you alive. It’s not just about Josie, or Michelle, or even our goddamn roles. There are bigger things coming, and if we keep turning on each other, it won’t be some enemy that kills us—it’ll be us."

"Like what?" Kiel snapped. "What bigger things?"

Varen glanced around, and then without another word, he grabbed Kiel by the sleeve and yanked him down the hall toward the game room.

I waited a beat, then followed.

---

The game room wasn’t anything like its name suggested. Sure, it had a pool table, and some old dartboards on the far wall—but right now, the only game in play was war.

Varen shut the door behind him and turned to face Kiel.

"You really want to know what’s coming?" he asked, voice low.

Kiel crossed his arms again. "Try me."

Varen stared at him hard for a second, then spoke.

"The Satan’s Heir witch."

Kiel frowned. "What the hell does she have to do with anything?"

"She’s not a joke," Varen said flatly. "She’s not just some relic from our parents’ time. She’s dangerous. Michelle was just the start. A puppet. You think it’s over just because we caught her? No. She’s still out there, watching. Manipulating. And she’ll come back, stronger. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But if we’re too busy tearing each other apart, she’ll win."

Kiel laughed, but it was dry, humorless. "Right. So now we’re fighting ancient witches? Come on, Varen."

"You know it’s true," Varen said. "You just don’t want to face it. Because if you do... then you’ll have to admit we need each other. And right now, you’d rather drown in your damn pride."

The words hung between them like smoke.

Then—

A knock.

The door creaked open, and a woman peeked in. She was maybe in her thirties, with kind brown eyes and a soft face that still held the tired edges of grief. I recognized her—Lysa, one of the pack widows. Lost her husband in the territory raids four years ago.

"Sorry," she said gently, looking at Varen. "I didn’t mean to interrupt."

Varen relaxed a fraction. "It’s alright."

She stepped in, holding a small envelope. "I came to invite you... to Mason’s birthday. He turns twelve today. It’s tradition, you know? You’ve been there every year since Jonas passed. He keeps asking about you."

Varen’s expression softened. "I wish I could, Lysa. But I’ve got something important I need to take care of tonight."

Her face fell slightly, but she nodded in understanding. "Of course. I know you’re busy. I just thought... maybe you could stop by. Even for a little while."

Varen smiled faintly. "Kiel will be there."

Kiel’s head snapped toward him like he’d just been slapped. "What?"

Lysa’s eyes lit up. "Oh! That would be wonderful. Mason really looks up to you all. It would mean a lot."

Kiel opened his mouth to object, but Varen shot him a warning glare.

"Yeah," Varen added smoothly. "Kiel’s free this evening."

The woman looked between them and smiled, her heart clearly warmed. "Thank you. I’ll let Mason know. He’ll be thrilled." She handed Varen the envelope and left with a quiet click of the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Kiel turned on Varen.

"Are you kidding me?" he growled. "What the hell was that?"

"You’re going," Varen said simply, walking over to the pool table and grabbing a cue stick.

"You just threw me under the bus in front of her."

"I threw you a lifeline."

Kiel scoffed. "A kid’s birthday party is a lifeline?"

"Yeah," Varen said, lining up a shot with mechanical ease. "Because right now, you’re circling the drain. And maybe—just maybe—spending an hour around innocence, around something that isn’t about Michelle or Josie or our crumbling pack politics, might remind you who the fuck you are."

Kiel didn’t respond.

The ball cracked into the corner pocket.

I finally stepped into the room. My voice was low but firm. "He’s right."

Both of them turned to me.

"I get it," I said. "We’re all hurting. We’re all messed up. But if we keep blaming each other for the fallout, we won’t be around long enough to fix anything. Kiel, I know I’ve been hard on you lately. Maybe too hard. But none of this will work if we keep trying to lead in different directions."

Kiel looked down, his fists clenched tight.

Varen put down the cue stick and crossed his arms. "So go to the damn party. Smile at the kid. Eat some cake. Breathe."

For a long moment, Kiel said nothing. Then finally, he muttered, "You both suck."

I smirked. "We know."

Varen laughed. "But we’re your brothers. So, suck it up."

Kiel rolled his eyes and shoved Varen’s shoulder lightly on his way out. "Fine. But if that kid throws confetti in my hair, I’m blaming you."

Varen grinned. "Noted."

As the door shut behind Kiel, I exhaled and leaned back against the wall.

The fractures were deep, and we were far from okay.

I think.