His Trouble Maker
Chapter 66
JESSICA
I’ve never woken up before the sun. Never needed to. But today, I was running before the sky turned gray lungs burning, legs aching, chasing silence like it might outrun the iness inside my head.
Whatever happened yesterday, it’s not something I can forget. Not even if I wanted to.
Did Grayson really give up on me?
The question loops, cruel and constant. My chest still aches from how we left things. From the way he said it–flat, final, like I’d finally pushed him too far. Maybe I had.
I don’t know how many tears I’ve cried. I don’t even know if they counted. I just know they didn’t fix a damn thing.
Even the rogue–I don’t know what was real anymore. Maybe I imagined him. Maybe my brain’s trying to sabotage me. Wouldn’t be the first time.
The door swings shut behind me, and I barely register the click before I see him
The Alpha.
Grayson’s father.
Everything in me halts. My breath snags on the edge of my throat, my heel stutters against the floor, and the sweat that had started to cool from my run suddenly feels icy. My eyes widen–no time to hide it–and my lips part, but no sound comes. I can’t even lie to myself and pretend I expected this. I didn’t. No part of me was ready for this.
His eyes look like Grayson’s–but colder. Older. Stripped of anything human. Atleast Grayson can look with empathy sometimes. Sometimes.
“Alpha,” I manage, and my voice sounds wrong in my own mouth–tight, strained, too quiet.
He doesn’t blink.
“You’re up early,” he says, and the calm in his voice makes it worse. “I thought caretakers had the luxury of sleeping in.”
I blink, stunned, trying to make sense of why he’s even here, why he’s saying these things to me like we’ve already been in an argument I don’t remember
starting.
“I-“I start, but my mouth is dry and clumsy, and the second he lifts a single hand, I stop cold.
“Don’t speak,” he says, the disgust bleeding through now. “You’ve already wasted enough of this pack’s time.”
My throat tightens. I blink. My arms are stiff at my sides, fingers twitching. I want to respond. I want to push back. But I don’t know how to do it without
shaking.
“I came because I hate watching talent rot,” he says, standing with slow, terrifying precision. “And because my son has let your presence weaken him.”
My head jerks. “Weak-?”
“Don’t speak again.”
I flinch. Actually flinch. My mouth clamps shut, breath stuck halfway in my chest.
He walks toward me–not quickly, but with intent–and it’s terrifying how little space it takes for him to feel like a storm crashing toward me
“You let your legs open and your instincts/rot,” he continues, tone low and sharp. “And you did it all for a boy who can’t even keep his mouth off his ex in public.”
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Chapter 66
that I care.
worth it? To give up everything you were building, everything
That’s not true.
back in front of me. Closer now. His voice lowers. “I’m offering you something most failures don’t get. A
can’t think. I blink again, rapid, trying
supposed to be, if you hadn’t let
sharply. It
head. “Offended? Good. You should be. You should also be
“But not under Grayson. He’s proven incapable of separating strength from weakness. And you have made
I can’t absorb
judgment is compromised. Soft. Romantic.
again, chest tight. “Then
away. I hate how he makes this very casual as if it’s nothing
“Riot asked for you.”
once.
the name
“My other son.”
The floor tilts.
Grayson never–he doesn’t-” I’m stammering. I can’t stop.
voice clipped,
the
Grayson have a half–brother?
still flustered. “Why? What does he want
don’t care what he wants,” the Alpha replies. “He asked. I agreed. You’ll report
head–not in refusal, in disbelief.
don’t need to,” he says, cutting me off again. “Your job is to show up. Follow orders. Make yourself useful. Unless, of course, you’d rather be escorted out of this territory with nothing but a name
for my answer. He doesn’t have
standing in the same spot. Blinking.
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Chapter 66
takes me a full thirty seconds to realize I’m not
and I don’t remember walking
my mouth. It clings to the back
And then I’m moving
slam into Pierce’s door so fast and loud that my
cracks. “Open the damn
he appears–blinking, shirtless, disoriented–1
chest is a
red welts–claw marks, fresh and ugly–curl under his collarbone and down his side. I suck in a breath
up from my gut.
shaking so hard I almost choke on the word “idiot,”
pull together instantly. “What the–Jess? What’s
on a chipped patch of paint like it’s suddenly the most important. thing I’ve ever seen. “Riot,” I breathe out. “Grayson… has a
in
you about Riot?” His voice drops to a whisper so tense it might as well be a growf. His hand grips the edge of the doorframe like
So it’s true.
my goddess.” I press a hand to my forehead. “So it’s
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