The Three Who Chose Me -
Chapter 39: The Storm Between Us
Chapter 39: The Storm Between Us
Varen
I had never felt the urge to hit something this badly.
My fingers curled so tight around the reins that my knuckles cracked. The cold rain didn’t help my temper—it only made everything feel heavier, colder, angrier. Josie had run off, and it was because of us. No. It was because of them.
Kiel.
Thorne.
They’d been acting like she didn’t matter. Like she wasn’t their fated mate. Like she wasn’t everything.
I turned sharply toward the lingering pest that was Michelle. She was still standing there, water clinging to her hair, making her white blouse nearly transparent. She was trying to pout through the cold, probably hoping to spark some sympathy. She wasn’t going to get it from me.
"Go back to your place," I snapped.
Her eyes widened. "Varen—"
"Go. Back. Now."
"I was only—"
"If you don’t leave, I swear to the moon, I’ll forget you’re a guest in this pack."
She flinched like I’d struck her. Good. She should flinch. She should’ve known better than to stick around when Josie needed space. She should’ve known not to rub herself on Kiel like perfume in heat.
But no—she stayed, trembling, all tears and fake innocence.
She looked at Kiel then. "Kiel, please. I’m scared of the trail. What if I get lost?"
"Everyone else is gone," I growled before Kiel could say a word. "You’re not a helpless omega, Michelle. Stop pretending you are. It’s pathetic."
Michelle whimpered and backed away, clutching her cloak around her. Finally, she turned and took the path back toward the stables.
The moment she was gone, I whirled on my brothers.
"What the fuck is going on with the two of you?" My voice came out like a roar. "Are you blind? Do you even see what you’re doing to her?"
Thorne raised a brow, nonchalant as ever. "She’s fine."
"Fine?" I snapped. "She ran off crying, Thorne. She’s barely holding it together, and you’re acting like she’s invisible. Kiel, you’re not much better."
Kiel said nothing, just sat on his drenched horse like a stone carving. I wanted to scream.
"Get off," I said.
Kiel blinked. "What?"
"Get the fuck off your horse. Both of you."
"What for?" Thorne asked, tone cold.
"We’re settling this the way we used to," I said. "Old school. No lies. No hiding. We fight. And if one of you ends up face-first in the mud, you talk. You tell the fucking truth."
They hesitated. I could see the flickers of resistance in their eyes, but I wasn’t backing down.
"You’re serious," Kiel muttered.
"I’m dead serious."
It wasn’t about pride. It wasn’t even about Josie. It was about the bond—the three of us, mates to one girl, and falling apart like a deck of cards. We used to fight for fun, for training, for strategy. This time, we were fighting for answers.
We dismounted.
Rain poured harder. The wind sliced through our coats like icy knives, and the sky thundered as if it wanted to be part of this, too. Thorne grabbed makeshift training swords from the storage barrel we’d always kept here. Wooden. Heavy. Brutal.
He tossed one to Kiel. Then to me.
"Rules?" Thorne asked.
"No rules," I muttered. "Just truth."
We circled each other on the wet ground. The others were long gone—just the three of us in the rain, soaked to the bone and brimming with everything we hadn’t said for weeks.
The first clash of wood-on-wood echoed like thunder.
It was savage.
Thorne swung first, but Kiel blocked. I ducked and swept low, cracking him in the ribs. He stumbled but didn’t fall. He lunged at me, but I twisted and slammed my shoulder into his chest. He slipped and went down hard.
"Fucking hell!" he shouted, mud streaking his jaw.
"Start talking," I said.
He spat to the side, chest heaving. "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth."
He sat there, fists clenching into the mud. "I don’t know how to face her."
"What?" I asked.
"I don’t fucking know how to look her in the eye," Kiel said, voice tight, eyes glossed. "After the way I treated her before she got taken, I... I don’t know how to be around her."
"You think she hasn’t forgiven you?" I demanded.
"I know she probably has. But that’s not the point." He shoved his hands through his hair, rain dripping down his cheeks. "I need to feel worthy of her again. And I don’t. I’ve been trying to fix things with Michelle just to avoid feeling like shit, and it only made everything worse."
My throat tightened. As much as I wanted to be angry, I understood. He was ashamed. Just like me.
I nodded slowly. "She’s fragile, Kiel. We all are. This whole thing—Michelle, the distance—it’s messing her up."
Thorne scoffed from behind. "Oh, spare me."
I turned.
He stood there, rain making him look like a god carved in storm. Unmoved. Cold.
"I don’t care what happens with the girl," he said flatly. "I’m tired. I need rest."
"You don’t care?" My voice cracked.
"No."
"You’re lying," I growled.
"I’m not."
"Then why the fuck are you still here, Thorne?" I threw my sword down. "Why haven’t you left if you truly don’t give a damn?"
His eyes flared. "Because you won’t stop trying to glue everyone back together like some fucking therapist!"
I stepped forward. "Because someone has to try! While you and Kiel keep avoiding her, she’s blaming herself for everything! She’s hurting, Thorne!"
"She’ll survive," he snapped.
"You’re cruel," I said. "You act like nothing touches you, but you’re broken. You’re scared. So you pretend not to feel anything."
He stepped in close, breathing hard. "You think you’re so noble, huh? Trying to ’fix’ everything? You’re not any better. You want us to be one big happy poly pack while you secretly want her to yourself."
"That’s not true—"
"You’re fake," Thorne hissed.
The word hit like a punch.
I didn’t speak.
I just lunged.
We clashed like titans. Fists. Wood. Rain and blood and rage. We rolled in the mud, punches flying. He caught my jaw. I cracked his ribs. It didn’t matter. We fought like we used to, only this time it wasn’t a game—it was raw, it was personal, it was heartbreak.
Finally, he shoved me off and staggered back, blood on his lip.
"I’m done," he said. "Figure your shit out."
He turned and walked away, boots squelching through the soaked trail.
I stood there, chest burning.
I turned back to Kiel—and saw his shoulders shaking.
He was crying.
I wanted to punch something again. Not him. Myself. Thorne. The moon. I didn’t know.
"Suck it up," I barked. "You’re not weak. You’re just scared."
He didn’t respond.
I stepped away, drenched and cold and angrier than I’d ever been.
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
But maybe this was the only way we’d ever get anywhere—breaking apart, so we could start putting the pieces together again.
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