CHAPTER 95: WHEN THE EARTH WEEPS

Josie

I didn’t even know what I wanted to say to him.

Varen’s words hit me like a slap. "I was out of line. You should leave."

That was it. Just like that. I blinked at him, mouth half-open, heart halfway shattered. I could feel the tears burning behind my eyes, and I hated how easily I crumbled around them. Around him.

But I wasn’t going to beg. Not again. Not tonight.

Without a word, I turned and walked out of the room. My legs moved on their own, barely holding me up. The hallway seemed longer than usual, the silence heavier. I made it to my room and shut the door behind me with a soft but final thud.

The guards outside turned toward me, and I snapped, "No one comes in. Especially not the brothers."

They gave me a curt nod. I didn’t wait for a reply. I just turned the lock and leaned my back against the door.

The lump in my throat swelled. I hated this. I hated how they could make me feel so much. How Thorne’s cruelty could cut so deeply. How Varen’s cold silence could make me feel like I was begging to breathe.

I slid down to the floor and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

God, I wished I had a wolf.

Someone to talk to. Someone to anchor me. Someone to tell me I wasn’t insane for feeling so damn much.

But there was nothing. No comforting voice. No internal warmth. Just me.

Alone.

Again.

I climbed into bed, hoping sleep would take me quickly. But my mind wouldn’t let me rest. Even with my eyes shut, I kept thinking about how each of them affected me. How Varen made me feel safe, even when I shouldn’t. How Thorne always had to ruin that. The moment I smiled with one, the other tore it down.

I hated this push and pull. Hated how they made my heart a battlefield.

Eventually, my thoughts drifted... and changed.

Heat started blooming across my skin, and it wasn’t from the blankets.

The dream came uninvited.

Hands—everywhere. Lips—on my neck, my collarbone, my thighs. I couldn’t tell whose hands were whose. They were all over me. Thorne. Varen. Kiel. Their voices in my ear. Rough. Soft. Sinful. My back arched, and my breath hitched as I whispered someone’s name. I didn’t know who.

I woke up gasping.

The clock on the wall read 4:03 a.m.

My cheeks were flushed, my skin was burning—and I was completely naked.

"What the hell?" I muttered, yanking the sheets over myself.

I was sure I had gone to bed in my full pajamas—sweatpants and a hoodie. But now? Nothing.

Panic set in as I sat up and looked around the room, heart hammering. Had someone come in? Had something happened?

But the door was still locked. No one was there.

I jumped out of bed and ran to my dresser, throwing on the first thing I found—a silky blue robe. My hands were still trembling.

I needed to get out of here.

I slipped out the door without making a sound, avoiding the guards, my bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor.

Outside, it was drizzling. The early morning fog blanketed the ground, and everything was silent except the gentle pitter-patter of rain.

I walked toward the garden, needing air, needing distance. The moment I stepped onto the stone path, a strange chill raced down my spine.

Then the voices started.

Whispers. Gentle. Beckoning.

The trees.

It felt like they were calling out to me.

No. No, not again.

My breath quickened. Was I hallucinating again? Was this another break?

But the trees... they weren’t just calling. They were weeping.

The pull was irresistible. My legs moved on their own, carrying me deeper into the garden. The rain didn’t matter. The cold didn’t matter. Nothing did.

Suddenly, my hands shot forward—without my permission—and a surge of energy exploded from my fingertips.

The trees swayed violently, reacting to the wave of power. The ground beneath me trembled, as if the earth itself was crying out.

"No—stop!" I cried, trying to pull back, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t in control.

It was like something had taken over me.

I could feel the trees speaking. Pleading. They weren’t angry.

They were afraid.

They were asking me what I wanted.

What did I want?

I didn’t even know anymore.

The energy inside me swirled like a storm. My vision blurred as tears spilled down my cheeks, mixing with the rain.

"I don’t want to hurt anyone," I whispered. "Please..."

Then a hand touched my arm.

The connection snapped instantly.

I gasped and stumbled backward, the power fizzling out like it had never been there.

"Josie," Varen said softly.

He reached up, brushing away my tears with the pads of his fingers. His touch was so gentle, it made my chest ache.

"I—I didn’t mean to..." My voice cracked.

"It’s okay," he whispered. "Come on. Let me make you some coffee."

I let him lead me back to the house.

Neither of us spoke. The rain clung to our skin, and my robe stuck to me like a second layer of anxiety. But his hand never let go of mine.

Inside, the kitchen lights felt too bright, too artificial. Varen moved quietly, brewing coffee like it was something sacred.

He handed me a mug. The coffee was lukewarm. Not exactly great.

Still, I held it like it was the only thing tethering me to reality.

"I don’t know how to stop it," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Varen glanced at me, his eyes calm and unreadable.

"I’ve killed so many plants," I confessed. "So many living things. My powers destroy more than they help. And I hate myself for it."

He didn’t respond. He just stared into his own mug, lips pressed tight.

I felt something hot twist in my chest.

"Say something," I snapped.

He blinked.

"I said," I repeated louder, "say something, damn it! Don’t just sit there like you’re above all of this!"

Still, he didn’t speak.

My fingers tightened around the mug, and I pushed away from the table.

"I’m leaving."

That got him moving.

He stepped in front of me, not blocking me—just close enough that I had to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes.

"You need to be less aggressive, Josie," he said quietly. "I’m not your enemy."

My eyes narrowed. "You think I’m aggressive? After everything? That’s what you got from that?"

"I’m not here to lecture you," he said. "I’m here to listen. You just... don’t want to talk. You want answers. And when you don’t get them fast enough, you attack."

I clenched my jaw.

"What good does listening do me?" I said, my voice sharp. "You think just sitting here and staring makes it better? You think silence makes me feel heard?"

His gaze didn’t waver.

"I’m not trying to fix you, Josie," he said. "I’m just... here."

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because part of me wanted to believe him.

But the bigger part—the part that remembered pain—didn’t know how.

I turned my back to him.

And yet, I didn’t move.

Because for once, the silence didn’t feel like a prison.

It felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t lying.