Josie
"Don't talk."
The words slammed into me harder than his footsteps across my room. For a moment, I just stood there, blinking at him like I'd misheard. But I hadn't. His voice was sharp, clipped, not raised—but still brutal in its lack of care.
Something about it punched a hole in my chest.
Not because it hurt, exactly.
But because it reminded me.
My dad had that voice. That same cold steel in his tone when he wanted silence. When I was a kid and spoke too fast, asked too many questions, or cried too loudly—he'd level me with a look and say it just like that.
Don't talk.
And I would shrink.
Just like now.
I stared at Thorne, feeling like I'd been peeled open. I didn't want to be that girl anymore—the one who curled in on herself when someone spoke harshly. But here I was, seventeen all over again and flinching at a man's voice.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like I was the exhausting one.
"I didn't mean to be rude," he said, the words coming out slower now, less sharp but still heavy. "You just talk too much."
I blinked.
Really?
That's what he wanted to lead with?
"Oh, I'm sorry for being vocal after nearly getting murdered in your woods today," I snapped. "Please, by all means, finish whatever alpha-man-speech you came to give so I can go back to trying to breathe in peace."
His jaw flexed, but he didn't bite back.
Instead, he stepped to the side, leaning a shoulder against the edge of my dresser like this was casual.
"I've assigned seven guards to you."
I blinked. "What?"
"They'll follow you everywhere."
"Everywhere?"
"Yes. Inside the pack house. Outside. If you leave, they leave with you."
I stared at him, mouth falling slightly open.
"And why, exactly," I said through my teeth, "would you care enough to do that?"
He opened his mouth, maybe to give some noble alpha answer, but I cut in before he had the chance.
"You don't get to shut me up, Thorne. Not when this is about me. I deserve to have a say. I'm not some collectible you put in a glass box and watch from a distance."
"You were attacked," he said, voice tightening. "This is for your own good."
"Oh, because you know what's good for me now?"
I took a step forward, trying to move past him.
He blocked me.
I shifted again. "Move."
"No."
"I'm going to tell your little guard squad that they're dismissed."
"You're not," he said quietly.
"Yes, I am."
The room spun as he moved—fast as lightning. One second, I was stepping past him; the next, my back slammed against the wall with a muted thud, and his hand was pressed against the plaster beside my face.
My heart pounded like a jackhammer in my ribcage. My breath caught.
He didn't touch me—at least, not really. But his presence caged me in.
I looked up at him, startled.
He was too close.
Way too close.
And God—he was… beautiful.
His eyes were a strange storm-grey, focused but distant. His shirt clung to his chest like it had been stitched on, taut over muscles I hadn't paid attention to before.
Don't look at him like that, my brain screamed.
I forced myself to blink, to breathe, to focus. But then his hand brushed my arm as he leaned in slightly, and it sent a shiver racing down my spine.
No.
No, not like this.
"You need to behave," he said, his voice low. "I didn't ask for this."
"I didn't tell you to," I replied quickly, but my voice had lost its fire. It came out small, like the embers of something already dying.
His jaw clenched. "I never asked for a mate. I didn't want one."
That made me go still.
His gaze stayed pinned above my head. Like he couldn't look at me when he said it.
"I didn't want one," he repeated. "But I have a responsibility. That means keeping you safe."
I yanked my arm from his grip. He let me go too easily, like he didn't want to touch me anymore than he had to.
The emptiness where his body had been felt colder than it should've.
I swallowed.
"Then reject me," I said.
His head tilted slightly.
"What?"
"Reject me, Thorne. Say the words. Let me go."
A silence dropped between us—hard and heavy and cold.
I didn't look at him. I couldn't. I stared at the floor, hoping he'd leave. That he'd do it. That he'd finally just say it and be done.
But instead, his voice came out softer, almost reluctant.
"I can't lose to my brothers."
The words sliced something in me open.
Not because of what he said.
But because of what he didn't.
He didn't say he wanted me.
Didn't say he couldn't reject me.
Just that he wouldn't let the others win.
I lifted my head. My throat was tight, vision blurring at the edges. But I wouldn't cry in front of him. Not him.
"Get out," I whispered.
He didn't move.
"Get out, Thorne."
Finally, he turned away. Walked to the door like none of this mattered. Like I wasn't falling apart inside.
He stepped out, and I slammed the door shut behind him.
Then I sank to the floor, my back against the wood, knees pulled to my chest.
The first tear slid down without permission.
I hated crying. Hated how weak it made me feel. But tonight, I couldn't stop it. No matter how hard I tried.
He didn't want me.
Not because I talked too much.
Not because I was loud or difficult.
But because I was an omega.
Just an omega.
And no matter how many guards he gave me, how many orders he barked to keep me safe…
That truth was louder than everything else.