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.

thunder in my ears. The crowd leans in like one body, exhaling all at 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 least, they keep

things shouldn’t feel like death

steps into the

And it’s him. Riot.

Slate gray. Eyes like

how

like it’s scraping skin off bone. Every inch of my body wants to

I hate fate.

staff tapping once into the dirt. “You have

answer.

around every syllable I thought I’d say All the brave, defiant

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Chapter 94

come

entire circle

softly as if he’s

lie. I

in me refuses to surrender that last inch

“No.” I whisper.

few of the younger wolves recoil. Someone hisses a curse. Elder Sarra’s

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

run!” I screamed, louder now. “Grayson

hard enough to silence a heartbeat. “You are defiling the sacred rite,” she said, voice cutting.

will care what I remember. What I know. I’ll just be his. And your little cover–up will be sealed with blood

eight, all in formal leathers, half–shifted,

They were waiting–for him.

when it came, was

“Jessica.”

I turned to him.

back. He stood naked in the moonlight, the weight of his birthright ink glowing faintly

are things you don’t understand,” he said

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

The wind turned colder.

I didn’t flinch.

the point of rupture. The moon above us blazed white, like even the

took a step

The guards stilled.

now, marked by no one, claimed

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Chapter 94

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this be witnessed. I

torches flickered violently, bending low like

looked like he’d

voice trembling. “That

I nodded.

“You know the punishment.”

was already punished,” I said, eyes burning. “You just

And then–chaos.

of the guards lunged. I turned to run, but he caught my arm. Riot moved faster, intercepting him mid–air, slamming the wolf into the

broke out. A shriek. Then the metallic

circle exploded into movement, torn between tradition and truth, blood–loyalty and instinct. Someone screamed my name. Torches fell. Wolves collided mid–shift. A flash of silver–someone unsheathed a ceremonial blade. I stumbled backward, breath ragged, choking on

And then-

A growl.

Riot–alpha of the Blood pack, bare–chested and

followed, deeper, layered–like two throats

My

The tree line split.

been pushed apart. Like the forest had bent at the waist for something that didn’t belong to this

of the

Grayson stepped through.

Not limping. Not broken.