Thorne
I swore under my breath as I looked at Josie.
Her body was limp where I'd placed her on my bed, her skin clammy, hair matted to her forehead from sweat, and at the corners of her eyes… tears. Silent, dried streaks like she'd been crying even in her unconsciousness. It gutted me.
This wasn't her. Josie, my spitfire, the thorn in the side, the mouthy little omega who never knew how to shut up… reduced to this shell that barely twitched when I brushed her cheek.
Something deep inside me twisted. It wasn't rage, not like what I felt toward our enemies or toward my brothers when they acted like fools. No, this was heavier. Worse. Guilt. A leaden, searing kind that didn't go away even when I clenched my fists so hard my claws dug into my own palms.
"We shouldn't have done it," I muttered hoarsely, not looking away from her. "We shouldn't have killed them."
I hadn't meant to say it aloud, but it slipped out anyway, raw and unfiltered.
