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.

while the Alpha is terrifying, at least he doesn’t actively go out

Unlike his son.

climbing out of bed, dragging my hands through

still in my sleep

so bad it

Do I care?

Nope.

it’s just the

Gray fucking Westwood. I stumble downstairs, rubbing my

don’t bother checking a

bother

don’t bother preparing

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step into the living room, I

do

do not

ridiculously unfair, infuriatingly broody figure leaning against the wall like he owns the

dead

He lifts his head.

Our eyes meet.

And suddenly, I remember.

time Gray Westwood ever looked at

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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

pack training. I had been

been there. He

for my first spar, fists tight, heart pounding. Before I even had a chance to move, my opponent–a seasoned warrior–had knocked me to the ground. Hard. The air had been forced from my lungs, the world tilting for a

And Gray had laughed.

But it had been there, under his breath, just enough for

ere rever

hate Gray Westwood! And now, standing here, staring at him in my living room, that

to set myself on fire. “WHAT ARE

down my body. Slowly. Like he’s assessing, deciding. Something in his posture shifts–just slightly–but it’s enough. Enough to make my pulse

and then–I realize. My nipples are poking in my thin shirt. My fingers curl into my shirt. My shoulders bunch, heat licking up my throat as

nearly give myself whiplash, throwing my arms over my chest, cursing myself, cursing the gods, cursing my

“Don’t look!” I shriek.

Gray… says nothing.

house?!” I demand, still facing away from

lips twitch–just the barest hint of amusement. “You

the instinct to shrink under it. “So you decided to break into my house?” My voice is meant to

leans in slightly, the heat of him wrapping around me

forgetting my current disaster situation in

“I–what?!”

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Chapter 3

eyebrow. “I was sent to get you. You wouldn’t

WAITED IN MY

JUST–WHAT–HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN

“Long enough.”

am not sure if I am

Gray sighs.

“Wilkinson.”

“NO.”

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

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