His Trouble Maker

Chapter 94

JESSICA

“Mom, does it hurt?”

“What, honey?”

“When the big wolf bites you… before he claims you?”

I was six. Maybe seven. I had a chipped front tooth and a ragged stuffed fox I took everywhere. I remember Mom’s hands in the laundry, her arms damp, face glowing in the sunset as she laughed. Not a mocking laugh. One of those quiet, knowing ones. Soft, with a kind of sadness underneath.

“It only hurts if you don’t love him,” she said.

And back then I didn’t know what that meant. I thought love was supposed to make you safe. But here I am. In white silk that feels like a noose. Walking toward the firelight. And I can’t stop thinking about her voice.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, smudging the ash they painted beneath my eyes. Stared up at the silver slit of the moon hanging heavy above me. The light of the goddess. Striking even though it felt like punishment.

I wanted to scream at her. Ask her if she was proud of this.If this was what fate was supposed to look like–me walking into the arms of a wolf I didn’t want, while the only one I did was either dead or choosing not to come back for me.

I can hear the drums start from the treeline, low and steady, the rhythm of the hunt. My feet move even though I don’t want them to. Even though I’d give anything–literally anything–to turn around, to claw my way back into the cell, back into chains, back into silence. But I don’t. Because this isn’t a choice. It never was. It’s a ritual. It’s law. It’s blood–deep and spirit–bound and there’s no room for mercy when the moon is watching.

I step barefoot into the circle.

The ground is wet from earlier rain, and the earth gives a little beneath my soles, like it’s trying to pull me under. There’s salt scattered along the ritual path, and something metallic inthe air–iron or blood, I can’t tell which. My heartbeat is too loud. My chest feels like it’s caving in, but I keep walking. Past the stone markers, past the elders in their feathered cloaks and bone jewelry, past the warriors and witnesses and whisperers who’ve come to see if I’ll break.

They want a show.

They always do.

And 1-1 just want to survive it.

I step into the center of the ring, where four runes have been drawn in ash and blood and something older. One for the mate. One for the pack. One for the moon. And one for the girl who’s about to lose everything.

No one says that last one out loud.

But we all feel it.

The wind picks up as I kneel thate how obedient the motion feels Like my body’s been trained for this moment even though my heart is screaming I keep my chin lugh, but my hands won’t stop trembling press them to my thighs and close my eyes for half a second, just to breathe, just to remember who I am outside of this nightmare.

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Chapter 94

But I don’t know anymore.

I’ve lost too much. Grayson. Myself.

The truth.

Whatever future I thought I had.

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The howl rips through the clearing so suddenly it slices the breath out of me. My eyes snap open. The crowd stills. The elders turn their heads as one, toward the woods.

I don’t want to look.

I don’t want to know.

Because if it’s him–if it’s Riot–then everything changes. If it’s him, then I’m not just grieving anymore. I’m hunted. I’m prey. I’m his.

The trees part.

Branches rustle. The torches flicker. Something massive steps through the shadows, slow and heavy–footed and quiet in the way only wolves can be when they’re about to devour something.

And I–I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I wait. Because deep down I know–the one I prayed for won’t be the one who claims me.The shape in the trees doesn’t move like Grayson.

It’s slower. Heavier. Possessive.

once as if their lungs were tethered to the same story I was never allowed to rewrite. A murmur ripples through the witnesses, but no one dares speak–not yet. This is sacred. Or at

shouldn’t feel

wolf steps into the

And it’s him. Riot.

Slate gray. Eyes like

how

doesn’t lunge. He stares–with the kind of gaze that feels like it’s scraping skin off bone. Every inch of my body wants to flee,

I hate fate.

Wilkinson,” a voice booms behind me–Elder Sarra, her staff tapping once into the dirt. “You have

don’t answer. I

has locked around every syllable I thought I’d say All the brave, defiant things I’d practiced in

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Chapter 94

come

entire circle holds

as if

could lie. I

in me refuses to surrender that last inch

“No.” I whisper.

recoil. Someone hisses a curse. Elder Sarra’s expression

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for the crowd. More guards tried to stop me but I ducked the first one, my shoulder crashing into

louder now.

striking the ground hard enough to silence a heartbeat. “You are defiling the sacred rite,”

this bond is done, no one will care what I remember. What I know. I’ll just be his. And your little cover–up will

I counted six, maybe eight, all in formal leathers, half–shifted, fangs bared. They moved like a net,

They were waiting–for him.

when it came, was

“Jessica.”

I turned to him.

naked in the moonlight, the weight of his birthright ink glowing faintly along

you don’t understand,” he said

fired. “Say it now. Before you mark me. Before you

The wind turned colder.

I didn’t flinch.

above us blazed white, like even the goddess was

a step

The guards stilled.

marked by no one, claimed by no one. But seen. Finally

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let this be

through the trees. The flames on the ritual torches flickered violently, bending low like the forest itself was bowing. Something ancient

like

again, voice trembling. “That is

I nodded.

“You know the punishment.”

punished,” I said, eyes burning. “You just want to make it

And then–chaos.

he caught my arm. Riot moved faster, intercepting him mid–air, slamming the wolf into the dirt with enough force

Then

collided

And then-

A growl.

creature froze. Mid–shift. Mid–blow. Even Riot–alpha of the Blood pack, bare–chested and

deeper, layered–like

My

The tree line split.

back like they’d been pushed apart. Like the forest had bent at the waist for something that didn’t

of the

Grayson stepped through.

Not limping. Not broken.