His Trouble Maker

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I should run, vanish or pretend I never existed. Because if Gray Westwood tells the Alpha what just happened, I might not

survive the fallout.

The thought alone makes my stomach churn.

I wanted to be part of the warriors in our pack. I still do. More than anything.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted–to stand on my own. To fight. To be more than some girl waiting to be chosen, waiting to be

protected, waiting to be claimed.

I was supposed to be strong.

My fingers curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. Hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to keep me here, in my body, in control.

I trained for years. Harder than the boys who sneered at me. Harder than the instructors who never let me forget that I wasn’t meant for this. That I would never be strong enough, fast enough, brutal enough.

And for what?

To always end up as an embarrassment? To be looked at, not as a warrior, but as something else?

No she–wolf has ever made it to the top ranks. Not one. Not because we can’t–but because they won’t let us. Because in their eyes, we’re not fighters. We’re not equals. We’re just something to claim. Something to knot..

I refuse to be just another she–wolf waiting for someone to decide my worth. I will carve it out myself.

I groan and shove a pillow over my face. A sharp knock on my door yanks me back to reality.

“Jessica! Are you alive in there?”

I groan. “I am not mom! Leave me alone please!”

For one blessed second, I think she’s actually going to listen. “Get up, sweetheart. The Alpha is here. He wants to see you.”

I sit bolt upright.

“Mom,” I say, slowly, carefully. ““When you say ‘the Alpha‘… do you mean… Gray’s father?”

“Of course,” she says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Who else would I mean?”

I exhale.

Long. Slow. Relieved.

Oh, thank the gods.

I was so sure. so sure this was about Gray.

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That he’d decided to track me down, humiliate me further, demand I apologize for embarrassing him in front of the

warriors or some shit.

But no.

This is fine.

This is better.

terrifying, at least he doesn’t actively go out of his way to make

Unlike his son.

call out, already climbing out of bed,

still in my

hair so bad it could legally

Do I care?

Nope.

it’s just the

not Gray fucking Westwood.

don’t bother checking

don’t bother grabbing

don’t bother

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when I step into the living room, I will see a middle–aged,

do

do

tall, broad–shouldered, ridiculously unfair, infuriatingly broody figure leaning against the wall like he owns

stop dead

He lifts his head.

Our eyes meet.

And suddenly, I remember.

ever looked

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watching the older warriors spar. I had been so fascinated by their strength, their precision, the way Gray moved like he had been born to lead. But then… he had turned. As if he had felt me watching. Our eyes had locked, and

had been excited–nervous, but excited. I had trained in secret, pushing my body, preparing myself for the moment I could

been there. He was the one assessing

move, my opponent–a seasoned warrior–had knocked me to the ground. Hard. The air had been forced from my

And Gray had laughed.

enough for me to hear. Just enough to carve itself into my

ere rever

moment I had decided: I would forever hate Gray Westwood! And now, standing here,

to set myself on

Something in his posture shifts–just slightly–but it’s enough. Enough to make my pulse trip. Enough to make

follow his gaze and then–I realize. My nipples are poking in my thin shirt. My fingers curl into

around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash, throwing my arms over my chest, cursing myself, cursing the

“Don’t look!” I shriek.

Gray… says nothing.

demand, still facing away from him, still contemplating running straight out

twitch–just the barest hint of amusement. “You weren’t

low, the kind that makes you lean in without realizing you’re doing it. I straighten, fighting the instinct to shrink

wrapping around me like a

back around, forgetting my current disaster situation

“I–what?!”

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Chapter 3

to get you. You

IN

“YOU–YOU JUST–WHAT–HOW LONG

“Long enough.”

sure if I am just imagining things but

Gray sighs.

“Wilkinson.”

“NO.”

away from the wall, still flustered, still overheating, still actively combusting from

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