His Trouble Maker

GRAYSON

Fuck.

She was mine. She chose me. She was supposed to be mine.

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I slam my fist into the desk. The wood splinters under me, but I don’t stop. I grab the edge and tear at it like I can rip this feeling out of my skin, like I can pull the bond back with my bare hands if I just break something hard enough.

But it doesn’t work. It doesn’t go away.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know where to put all of this–this heat, this weight, this fucking ache

that won’t burn out of me.

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I went home because I thought there had to be another way. I thought maybe I could fight my father. Maybe I could twist his conditions, force him to call this off, give me something–anything–to fix this.

There had to be a way.

But when I got there–when I walked into his office–he was already moving on. Calm. Cold. Smiling like this was all part of the plan.

He wasn’t waiting for me.

He was arranging my marriage.

With Aria. Like Jessica never happened. Like none of this fucking mattered.

1 freeze in the middle of the room, my hands shaking, and for a second, I don’t even know what to feel first. Rage or grief.

Probably both.

Aria. Not Jessica.Never Jessica.

I shove the lamp off the table. It crashes against the wall, shards spinning across the floor, but the sound’s not enough. I throw the chair next. I break the desk. I tear through the room like I can wreck his plans if I just keep moving, but the bond’s still there, thin and fraying and pulling toward him.

And the sickest thing–the thing I can’t get out of my head–the thought that just keeps coming back no matter how hard I try to crush it–is that I want to kill him.

I’ve never been this twisted. I’ve never been this violent. But when it comes to her–when it’s about Jessica–I would burn the whole fucking world just to have her. All of her.

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Chapter 84

I’ve never wanted anything like this. Not until her. And now I can’t let it go. I can’t pull back. I can’t stand here and let Riot have her. I can’t stand here and feel the bond slipping out of my hands and just let it happen. I can’t. I fucking can’t.

But I can’t go back, either.

Because if I walk back into that room–if I see her in his arms–if I see her let him touch her, let him own her–I

know what

“Grayson..”

hear the door creak. I don’t have to turn to know it’s Aria. I can smell her before I see her. Clean. Soft.

her anyway. She freezes

name crawls up my throat. I don’t say

blood on my knuckles, the walls I dented. Her mouth opens.

Of course he

Sweet Aria. The one who never

heat and breathless fights. Jessica made me want to

still hoping she can pull me out of this.

walking until she’s pressed back against the doorframe, my

her head. I can

can replace her?” I ask, my

She’s trying to

my father it’s not happening,” I say, my mouth dragging close to her ear, low, flat, certain. “Tell him

She smells like lavender soap. Jessica always smelled

voice cracks. “Does it

always has to be

think I’d want

Fucking slut.

just smile, sharp and cruel, because

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Chapter 84

wants

still here.” I step closer. I drag my palm down my face,

to speak, but

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dark as I circle behind her, crowding her, pressing my chest against her back. She stiffens, but I don’t stop. I drag my hand around her throat, slow, my

Her breath stutters.

huh?” I tighten my grip just a little,

do you just want the name? The title? The

I squeeze harder.

my nose dragging over the shell of it. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want

you’d let anyone touch you like this if they promised

I squeeze tighter.

low, dark, sharp. “You want me

you mine,

hitches. Her hands grab my wrist, weak,

Fucking knew it.

you could wear my name. You’d spread your legs

not her,” I snarl, my nose dragging along her jaw, my grip tightening

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into her, hard enough to make her

bet you’d let me fuck you just to say you