His Trouble Maker

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

GRAYSON

Damn

We’ve got the girl wolfie.

My wolf’s smug pacing like a beast who’s finally cornered his prey–and now doesn’t know whether to lick her wounds or tear her wide open

again.

She gave it to me.

All oth

Her breath. Her body. Her fucking fight..

And I took it slow. Savored every fucking second like I wasn’t starving for it all this time.

I’ve fed; baby.

I’ve fucking fed.

I take every goddamn piece of her she tries to keep. I take her breath–especially the shallow ones, the desperate ones, the ones caught in her throat when she’s trying not to make a sound. I’ll take those like oxygen, like they’re the only thing keeping me alive. I’ll bleed for that fucking breath.

Because I’m ruined now.

Feral.

Unfuckinghinged.

I adjust the collar of my shirt–still wrinkled from earlier and flip open the report my old man handed me this morning

Yeah, Great

Four pages of scribbled corrections, circled names, and notes like: “Double–check Pierce’s numbers.”

The guy’s meticulous as fuck

Annoyingly so.

“Something good happened?”

I stop whistling–didn’t even realize I was doing–and turn my head, jaw already tight. Fucking Pierce. He’s leaning against the doorframe, cigarette burning low between his fingers, smirking like he thinks he knows something I don’t. I hate that look on him. Hate the way it twitches at the comer of his mouth like he’s about to say something smart

smirks like the bastard he is, holding the

car again, grind your fucking

he wants to see if snap his spine in

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Chapter 25

whistling, Gray Smoke slips through his teeth, “You only do that when you’ve fucked someone stupid or gutted something

like he can still smell

“Which was it?”

sister, there’s no way this doesn’t end with me breaking something -his face, his skull, something. He’s not ready to hear it, and I’m not in the fucking mood to deal with

you want,

curling past his lips. “So, it was someone,” he

don’t flinch, but my jaw

thousand ways I could respond to that, and all of them end

Poor girl?

You mean your sister?

Yeah. Thought so

My voice is dry. Almost bored.

eyes narrowing, cigarette burning low between

know when

past him, open the office door. “You coming in or planning to lolter out there all day like

the wall–asshole–then follows me in. Tss. Inside, I toss the folder

shit.

the window and sighs.

He always hears something. Like the damn walls speak to him.

uncanny talent for sniffing out other people’s business like it’s blood in the water. Pack secrets, training rumors, who’s fucking who in the supply shed–Pierce collects them like weapons. Stores them behind that cool

like a hammer.

arms as lean back against the desk. “Let me guess–more whining from the Delta unit? Or did someone finally catch you spying through the barracks window

he’s half–amused, half–sick of me. “It’s pot

That gets my attention.

spine straightens, breath tightening in my

tight, brow creased. “There’s been rogue activity. His voice is clipped. Business. “Near the easter borders. Two packs

Fuck

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Chapter 25

a hand down my face, every

“When?”

but fast. Like the movement helps

Like someone’s been watching

along my jaw. My teeth grind on instinct. “What about the one who went after your mother? Or your sister?” The

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