CHAPTER 79: BREAKING

Josie

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

I turned to Marcy, eyes wide, heart hammering like a drum. "Why the hell would you stop me from tearing that letter?!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the room before I could even think about lowering it. "That’s none of your business, Marcy!"

We stared at each other, two women standing in the thick tension that filled the air. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, and I saw the exact second she bit back the thing she wanted to say. Finally, it was Marcy who looked away first.

"I’m sorry," she muttered, her voice low. "I stepped out of line. You’re the Next Luna, after all. I should’ve remembered my place." Her tone was clipped, cold in a way that Marcy’s voice had never been with me before.

That hit me harder than it should have. My anger simmered, confusion lacing through it like poison. I blinked, suddenly unsure. "Wait... Marcy," I started, reaching out instinctively to grab her hand. "I didn’t mean to snap like that, I just—"

She pulled her hand gently from mine and shook her head. "No, it’s fine. I’m not angry. But I need a break."

My heart dropped a little. A break? From me?

"That doesn’t sound like you," I said slowly, carefully. "You’ve never been the type to bottle things up. So why are you doing it now?"

She looked at me then, really looked at me—and the pain in her eyes made my stomach twist. "Because if I tell you how I really feel, Josie, things between us will never be the same. And I’d rather just... leave it."

That silence that followed was worse than any screaming match. I couldn’t even find the words to respond. My throat felt tight.

"Are you coming back?" I asked finally, hating how small my voice sounded.

She turned fully to me, and I stepped back instinctively when I saw her eyes glisten. "Josie," she said, her voice thick. "You don’t even realize what you’re doing to people."

My brows furrowed. What?

Before I could speak, she shoved the letter hard into my chest. I caught it out of reflex, even though I didn’t want to touch the damn thing. She didn’t look at me as she said, "You can do whatever you want," and then turned to walk out.

"Marcy, what the hell does that even mean?!" I snapped. "All I’ve done is give everything I had—to you, to them, to this damned pack!"

She stopped in her tracks.

And then she laughed. It wasn’t joyful. It wasn’t even amused. It was sharp, bitter, and exhausted.

"You always do that," she said, spinning back around to face me. "Make it all about you."

My chest heaved, and I shook my head. "That’s not fair—"

"When was the last time you even asked me what’s going on in my life?" she cut in, eyes narrowing. "I come here from my home to see you, and all I get is the endless cycle of how Thorne looked at you, or how Kiel broke your heart, or how Varen is the only one who gets you. It’s always your pain. Your sadness. Your problems."

I tried to speak, but my tongue felt heavy. She was on a roll now, years of friendship suddenly burning in the fire of this moment.

"You act like your world only became hard after the boys broke your heart," she continued, voice rising. "You forget that you used to be strong, Josie. You forget that before the triplets, you were your own damn person. And now? You’re spiraling, and you’re dragging the people who love you most down with you."

"That’s not true!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "I—I’ve always appreciated you. I’m just going through—"

"Go ahead, deny it," Marcy snapped. "You’re mad at me because I cared. Because I stopped you from acting out of pain. But fine, Josie. From now on, don’t call me when you have a problem. Don’t expect me to run down here to comfort you. And while you’re at it, tell those precious men of yours that I’m unavailable."

Her words hit me like slaps, one after the other, and I felt like the floor might give out beneath my feet. "Marcy..." I whispered. "You don’t mean all that. Please, just—can we talk about this?"

She smiled. It was cold. "Of course I don’t mean it, Josie. Because how you feel is the only thing that matters, right?" She turned away from me again. "I won’t be showing up at this packhouse unless I’m invited in a professional capacity. Luna duties only."

I rushed after her.

"Marcy, wait!" I called, my feet moving faster than my thoughts. I nearly caught her at the stairs—almost—but then I saw something that made every muscle in my body freeze.

Michelle. Standing at the bottom of the staircase with that disgusting, satisfied little smirk painted across her face.

She looked positively gleeful. Glee. Like seeing my life crumble around me was the best thing that had happened to her in weeks.

No.

No, she didn’t get to look happy while I was in pain. Not her. Not the person who had made my life hell.

I didn’t think. I didn’t plan. I moved.

I stormed down the stairs, my eyes locked on her like a predator who’d just spotted its prey. She was still grinning when I reached her and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her forward.

She yanked back and laughed. "Oh, calm down," she said with mock concern. "Someone as weak as you should be careful about dragging people around. You might just get beat to a pulp."

"Shut up!" I snapped, fury rising in my throat like bile. "Shut your damn mouth, Michelle!"

Her grin faltered—just for a second. "Touchy this morning, aren’t we?"

"I remember everything now," I hissed, my grip tightening on her wrist. "Every single thing you did to me."

She blinked, her lips parting. "And?"

"And," I growled, "you’re about to be kicked out of this pack."

She stared at me for a long moment before throwing her head back and laughing like I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, mocking me. "You haven’t seen the video, have you?"

I paused.

What?

"What video?" I asked, heart skipping.

Michelle’s smile widened like a cat playing with its cornered prey. "Exactly," she purred.

And that was where the ground shifted beneath me again.

Where the rage twisted into dread.

What the hell was she talking about?