His Trouble Maker

Chapter 67

JESSICA

I didn’t know why I was here anymore.

I stood on that cold stone floor, knees locked, jaw set, spine straining to hold together what little was left of me. My face was blank, my chin tilted just enough to fake pride, because that was all I had. That, and a body trained for war–even if the world had decided I was better off forgotten.

The arena was full now. Warriors lined the edges like shadows with sharp teeth. Blades at their hips. Bandages at their throats. Eyes tracking movement like it meant survival. Some stretched in silence, others ran drills with partners. But no one was really focused. Not until the doors opened.

A gust of cool air rolled through the room, slicing through the heat and the sweat and the whispers. Every sound died.

Grayson stepped in first and the room reacted on instinct. Spines straightened. Conversations died mid–word. Eyes dropped..

But it wasn’t him they were staring at.

It was the man beside him.

Goddess.

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Sa

He looked like Grayson–but ruined. Sharper. Hungrier. A twisted reflection, like someone had taken the bone structure and charm of the Alpha and drowned it in sin.

Same jawline. Same mouth.

But colder.

Filthier.

pla

A long, pale scar dragged down the left side of his face, cutting across his cheekbone and curling toward his mouth.

I couldn’t look away.

He was terrifying.

Utterly, absolutely terrifying.

But there’s something about him that makes you want to stay longer. Harder.

way my breath

no more doubt about it. The longer I look at him the deeper I notice their similarities and differences. It’s amazing how they look familiar but

his throat, the shape of his hands, the slow curve of his smirk like he knew exactly

am more frightened noticing how his eyes looks…no, that can’t be. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t realized he was already walking. Riot didn’t stop until he was close enough to steal the breath from

said, his voice low and smooth, dragging each syllable like he was tasting it. His fingers found the end of my braid, and he twisted it around one finger, gentle and maddening. Up close,

why I wasn’t

looking at me like he’d already undressed my instincts and laid claim

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Chapter 67

of

“W–why?”

He shrugged.

if that

if he didn’t owe me

the inside of my wrist like he’d tracked the tremor there. He

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felt it before I saw

The shift.

The heat.

breathless drop in pressure that came when an Alpha’s wolf stopped

Slowly, carefully, I turned.

His posture hadn’t changed, but everything about him was “alive” now–coiled, twitching beneath the surface, his skin buzzing

clenched at his sides, hard enough that blood had started to gather at his knuckles. His chest rose and fell in controlled rhythm, like he was trying to breathe around the instinct

was his eyes* that undid

No longer blue.

No longer human.

same color I’d seen in

locked

deliberate spark dropped onto dry leaves. “You don’t mind, do

Silence snapped tight.

Then-

the room that didn’t belong

Riot, not from me, but from Grayson. My head snapped toward him just as it broke loose. The pack scattered before

frozen in the center of it all, every hair on my arms rising, every breath catching in my

Grayson didn’t speak.

up, skin pulling too tight over bones that wanted to shift. Muscles flexed beneath his shirt

was “this close*

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