Fight With Me

Chapter 32

Hope's POV

Hope noticed it first in the quiet moments—the way the world felt slightly tilted when Josie wasn't touching her.

Not dramatic. Not painful. Just... wrong.

So she didn't let it happen.

They were back at the compound, the kind of calm that felt earned rather than safe. Sunlight poured over the back grounds, warm and deceptively gentle, and Hope had decided—without announcing it—that they were having a picnic. Not a celebration. Not a distraction.

An excuse.

She spread the blanket herself, hands moving with purpose, checking the tree line more times than necessary. Josie hovered close, practically attached at the hip, fingers fisted in the back of Hope's shirt like she might drift away otherwise.

Hope liked that.

No—needed it.

"You know," Rebekah called from the steps, arms crossed, sunglasses on, "normal couples sit next to each other. Not... whatever this is."

Hope didn't look up. "We are normal."

Josie smiled into Hope's shoulder. "Extremely normal."

Rebekah made a face. "You're sitting inside her."

Hope glanced down. Josie had, at some point, shifted fully sideways, legs tangled with Hope's, shoulder tucked under her chin like she belonged there.

Hope tightened her arm around her. Possessive. Automatic.

"Yeah," she said. "That tracks."

Something warm and sharp flickered in her chest—protective instinct brushing up against something darker. She ignored it. She was good at ignoring things when Josie was smiling.

⸻

Josie's POV

Josie felt safer when Hope touched her.

That wasn't new.

What was new was the way her thoughts went quiet when Hope held her—like the static in her head dropped out all at once. The fear, the confusion, the memory of bones breaking and fur and pain and that voice in her head that wasn't supposed to be there—

Gone.

Hope's heartbeat was steady beneath her cheek. Solid. Real.

Josie traced lazy shapes into Hope's palm, grounding herself there. "If you let go," she said softly, "I might actually disappear."

Hope didn't laugh. She just kissed Josie's hair and said, "Not happening."

The certainty in her voice made something twist in Josie's chest—love, devotion, a hint of something sharper she didn't want to name.

She glanced up and caught Freya watching them from across the lawn. Freya's face was neutral, but her eyes were calculating, thoughtful.

That made Josie uneasy.

"Why is she looking at us like that?" Josie murmured.

Hope followed her gaze, jaw tightening just a little. "She's thinking."

Josie frowned. "About... us?"

"About the bond," Hope corrected. "About why you shifted. About why you said what you said."

Josie swallowed. She still didn't know why those words had come out of her. Mine. It hadn't felt like a choice. It had felt like truth.

She pressed closer to Hope. "I don't like it when they don't know things."

Hope's arm tightened. "They don't get to take you apart trying to figure it out."

That should have scared her.

Instead, it made Josie's heart race in the best way.

⸻

Freya's POV

Freya loved them. Truly.

But gods, they were exhausting.

She stood with Keelin near the patio table, stacks of old grimoires and notes spread out between them, both pretending they weren't watching Hope and Josie cling to each other like the world might end if they separated by more than a foot.

Keelin leaned over. "Place your bets. How long before one of them panics if the other goes to the bathroom?"

Freya didn't look away. "They won't."

Keelin blinked. "They won't?"

"No," Freya said slowly. "They'll go together."

As if summoned, Josie whispered something, and Hope immediately stood, helping her up like she was made of glass.

Rebekah groaned. "I hate soulmates."

Freya rubbed her temple. "This isn't a standard soulmate bond."

That was the problem.

The texts were inconsistent. Fragmented. Half-myth, half-warning. Bonds that intensified magic. Bonds that blurred identity. Bonds that turned love into survival instinct.

Keelin lowered her voice. "She shifted without a trigger."

"And spoke through the bond," Freya added. "Which shouldn't be possible. Not like that."

Keelin frowned. "So what are we saying? Fate glitch?"

Freya watched Hope tuck Josie under her arm again, fingers splayed possessively at her back. Watched Josie visibly relax, like her body had been holding its breath.

"I'm saying," Freya murmured, "that whatever this is... it's escalating."

⸻

Rebekah's POV

Rebekah decided—right then—that if the world ended, it would be because of love.

She lounged dramatically on a chair, watching Hope feed Josie a strawberry like it was sacred ritual. Josie took it from Hope's fingers, smiling so softly it made Rebekah want to scream.

"This is obscene," she announced. "You're aware of that, yes?"

Hope glanced up. "You ate a man's heart once."

"That was different."

Josie smiled sweetly. "Was it?"

Rebekah scoffed, but there was fondness underneath it. They were ridiculous. Sickeningly devoted. And—

She felt it then. Just a flicker. The air shifting. Magic tightening like a held breath.

Hope froze.

Josie stiffened in her arms.

For half a second, Rebekah thought Josie's eyes flashed—something too bright, too knowing.

Then it was gone.

Josie blinked. "Did you feel that?"

Hope didn't answer immediately. Her hand slid up to cradle the back of Josie's neck, thumb pressing gently like she was checking something was still there.

"Yeah," Hope said quietly. "But it's fine."

It wasn't.

But the sun was still warm. The laughter came back. The blanket stayed spread. And Hope didn't let go.

Not once.