Fight With Me

Chapter 34

⸻
Hope's POV

The compound is quiet in that fake way.
The kind that presses against your ears.

Josie is tucked into my side on the couch, her legs folded beneath her, fingers absentmindedly tracing the seam of my sleeve like she's checking I'm still solid. Still here.

I let her.

Rebekah sits across from us, watching with open amusement. "You know," she says lightly, "at this point I'm starting to think you two share organs."

Keelin snorts from the doorway. "I give it another week before they start finishing each other's—"

Josie looks up.

Not sharp. Not angry.

Just flat.

"She's mine," she says.

The room drops.

I feel it before I see it, the way her body goes rigid, like a wire pulled too tight. My hand tightens at her waist automatically. Reflex. Claim.

Rebekah blinks. "Well," she says after a beat, "that's one way to kill the mood."

"Josie," Freya says gently, closing the book she's been pretending to read. "No one is questioning that."

"I am," Josie replies, still calm. Too calm. "You keep talking like this is temporary. Like she's something I can step away from."

Her fingers curl into my shirt.

I swallow. "Hey," I murmur, low. "We're okay."

She nods once, but doesn't look at me.

Freya exhales. "That's actually why we need to try something."

My spine goes rigid.

"No," I say.

Josie finally looks up at her. "Try what?"

"Distance," Freya says carefully. "Brief. Controlled. We need to see if the bond—"

Josie's magic flickers. Not a burst. A tremor.

I stand before Freya finishes the sentence. "You're not separating us."

"This isn't a request," Freya says softly. "It's ten minutes."

Josie's breath stutters.

Ten minutes feels like a cliff edge.

⸻

Josie's POV

The word distance feels wrong in my mouth. Like poison.

My chest starts to ache before anyone even moves.

"No," I say again, louder this time. "You can't."

Hope steps in front of me, body angled like a shield. God, I love her for that. Hate how much I need it.

Freya raises her hands. "Josie, sweetheart, we aren't trying to hurt you."

Something coils in my stomach.

"You already are."

When the spell hits me, it's gentle. That's the worst part. Like being pulled underwater slowly.

Hope gasps.

So do I.

The ache turns into a spear of nausea so sharp my knees buckle. My skin goes cold. Wrong. Everything is wrong.

"Hope—" I choke.

Her magic detonates.

The room shakes. Glass shatters. Someone swears. I don't see who because my vision tunnels, all of it narrowing down to the fact that she is suddenly too far away.

It feels like losing a limb.

No, losing my center.

I hit the floor hard, curling in on myself, hands clutching my ribs like I can hold my heart in place.

I hear Hope roaring my name.

It steadies me.

That scares me more than the pain.

"Don't touch her," I snarl when Freya reaches for me again. My voice doesn't sound like mine. "Don't touch what's mine."

The spell cracks.

I don't remember breaking it.

One second I'm drowning. The next I'm moving, pulled by something older than thought.

⸻

Hope's POV

When she's out of my reach, it feels like my bones are splitting.

I don't think.

I lunge.

Rebekah barely dodges. Freya throws up a barrier just in time, but I slam into it anyway, claws half-formed, vision bleeding gold.

"Hope!" Freya shouts. "Stop!"

I can't.

Josie is on the floor and I am not touching her.

That is unacceptable.

The second she breaks free and crashes into me, the pain vanishes like it was never there.

I wrap my arms around her so tightly she makes a small sound, and I don't loosen my grip.

Not even when the room goes dead silent.

Her hands fist in my jacket like she's anchoring herself.

"Don't," she whispers, shaking. "Don't make me do that again."

I lift my head slowly, staring straight at Freya.

"If you ever pull her away from me again," I say, voice low and steady and very real, "you won't like what I turn into."

⸻

Freya's POV

Freya has seen curses.
She has seen soulmate magic.
She has seen obsession.

This is different.

Josie is pale, eyes glassy, pressed so close to Hope it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Hope's magic is still thrumming, barely leashed.

Rebekah clears her throat. "So," she says lightly, "separation is off the table."

Keelin crouches beside them, checking Josie's pulse. "She nearly passed out."

"And Hope nearly leveled the house," Freya adds quietly.

She straightens, dread settling deep in her chest.

"This bond isn't reactive," she says. "It's enforcing proximity."

Josie looks up sharply. "Meaning?"

Freya hesitates.

"That it doesn't tolerate distance," she admits. "Physical or emotional."

Hope's grip tightens.

Josie leans fully into her, eyes dark, fierce, terrified. "Then stop trying to pull us apart."

Freya watches them, the way Josie calms only when Hope touches her, the way Hope's fury softens instantly when Josie breathes easier.

This isn't balance.

It's collapse held upright by love.

"...We won't," Freya says finally. "Not again."

But even as she says it, she knows the truth.

This bond isn't done escalating.

And neither of them will survive being forced apart again.

⸻