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

grind your fucking hand

takes a drag anyway–provoking on purpose, like he wants to see if snap his spine in half.

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Chapter 25

slips through his teeth, “You only do that when

the air like he can still smell her

“Which was it?”

with me breaking something -his face, his skull, something. He’s not ready

do you want,

brows a slow drag of smoke curling past his lips. “So, it was someone,” he murmurs. “Damn, poor

don’t flinch, but my jaw twitches.

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

Poor girl?

You mean your sister?

Yeah. Thought so

life, Pierce!” My voice is dry. Almost bored. “Should I start sending you

me, eyes narrowing, cigarette burning

to know when

get the fuck out of my doorway.” I shove past him, open the office door.

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

shit.

the window and sighs. “Theard something” he says, eyes fixed

always hears something. Like the damn walls

fucking who in the supply shed–Pierce collects them like weapons. Stores

like a hammer.

back against the desk. “Let me guess–more whining from the Delta unit? Or

twitching like he’s half–amused, half–sick of me.

That gets my attention.

straightens, breath tightening in

clipped. Business. “Near the easter borders. Two packs hit. One’s missing a beta. The other–Alpha‘ kid didn’t make

Fuck

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Chapter 25

hits different. I drag a hand down my face, every

“When?”

night.” He’s pacing now. Controlled, but fast. Like the movement helps him process. “They’re

coordinated. Timed. Like

your mother? Or your sister?” The words come out colder than I

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