His Trouble Maker

Chapter 67

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.

1910

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

longer I look at him the

shape of his hands, the slow curve of his smirk like he knew exactly how he made people flinch until his

looks…no, that can’t be. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t realized he was already

it. His fingers found the end of my braid, and he twisted it around

understand why I

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

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Chapter 67

some sick, splintered part of

“W–why?”

He shrugged.

that was an

he didn’t

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

2 2 2 2

felt it

The shift.

The heat.

when

Slowly, carefully, I turned.

from fury. His posture hadn’t changed, but everything about him was “alive” now–coiled, twitching beneath the

gather at his knuckles. His chest rose and fell in controlled rhythm, like he was trying to breathe

it was his eyes*

No longer blue.

No longer human.

glowed a molten red, low and wild, the same color I’d

were locked on Riot’s hand. On

want her,” Riot said again, each word a slow, deliberate spark dropped onto dry leaves. “You

Silence snapped tight.

Then-

the room that didn’t belong to any

stone walls – not from Riot, not from me, but from Grayson. My head snapped toward him just as it broke loose.

meant to be prey. I stood frozen in the center of it all,

Grayson didn’t speak.

pulling too tight over bones that wanted to shift. Muscles flexed beneath his shirt like they were tearing at the seams, and his entire body trembled, not from fear – but from the agony of

“this close*

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