His Trouble Maker

Chapter 98

GRAYSON

She doesn’t mean it.

That’s what I tell myself while her voice rips through me like claws through flesh. But that doesn’t make the words hurt any less.

You’re a coward.

She spit it at me like it was a truth she’d been sharpening for months, and maybe it was. Maybe she meant every syllable. Maybe I earned it.

I am a fucking coward when it comes to her. Maybe being Alpha isn’t enough if I can’t even keep her safe. Maybe I’m so stubborn–so godsdamn obsessed with wanting her in this lifetime–that I’ve ruined everything.

But what can I do?

+38)

What the fuck can I do when I am so in love with her?

“Let me go!” she screamed it again, rage curdled into something half–broken, half–feral. I shoved the door open with my shoulder and kicked it closed behind us, one arm locked around her ribs, the other fending off the hits she didn’t even realize she was landing.

“You’re not going out there,” I growled, breath ragged, forehead pressed to hers for a second too long. “Not like this.”

Her hands shoved at my chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I do when you’re bleeding and ready to kill someone and you can’t fucking stand.”

“I’ll crawl.”

“You’ll fucking die.”

“I don’t care!”

That did it. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her backward, her legs buckling as she hit the floor. I was on her in seconds, my hands pinning her arms down, my weight trapping her.

“You don’t fucking care?” ! spat, voice guttural, my breath harsh against her cheek. “You don’t fucking care if you die?”

She thrashed against me–hips jerking, teeth bared, trying to tear free–and I pressed harder, shoved my thigh between hers to trap her legs from kicking again.

“Yes!”

“Yes, I’d rather fucking die than stay here locked up like your broken little pet!”

She bucked again–hard–and I caught her with my body, my hand fisting in her hair, yanking her head back so I could see her, bare her throat, force her to face what she was saying.

“You don’t get to say that.” My voice broke low, sayage, ragged at the edges like I was choking on all the things I couldn’t fix. “You don’t get to look me in the eye and tell me death’s better than me.”

“I’ve almost killed Riot! We could’ve won and-

“And you could’ve died!” I roared, the sound/ripping out of me like it had claws. “You would’ve! You were seconds from bleeding out and you didn’t even

know it!”

“I didn’t care!” she screamed back, kicking at my thigh. “Do you know what he’s done to me?”

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Chapter 98

I froze.

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“Jessica-”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not with

weren’t there!” Her voice tore into a sob, wild and

My heart stopped.

curled, eyes rimmed in red like she’d scratched

him to stop,” she whispered, voice shredding. “And you weren’t

That was shame. That was horror. That was my spine turning to ice

toward her and

said–softer, broken, scared for the first

her head violently, like if she didn’t, she’d fall apart completely.

I

she needed me to understand it wasn’t just once. “I screamed for

And then she dropped.

couldn’t find air, hair falling in her face. She clawed at it, yanked it back, pulled

her, palms out, chest cracking open. “Look

in on something rotting inside her, hands over her ears, rocking. “I should’ve

I choked, reaching, grabbing her wrists too hard but I didn’t/care–she was unraveling and I couldn’t let

did.”

started in

her jaw,

met mine–and they were so red, so wet, like they’d

don’t get to hate yourself for staying alive,” I whispered, forehead

throat burning with every apology I didn’t know how to

hinges. I should’ve gutted him before he ever laid a finger on her. I should’ve smelled the

But I didn’t.

herself–watching her sob like she hated herself for surviving–was the

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Chapter 98

would’ve taken her pain a thousand times over just to stop the sound she made when she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry

I broke.

63%

+38)

From the

supposed to be strong

supposed

fucking

before I finally let go and tucked her in the bed. It’s more painful to see

Theo. He’s reading some shit, while smoking at the back of this small house we’ve

wall, hood up, cigarette glowing at the edge

he muttered without

jaw grinding.

lit one with shaking fingers but never really put it to my mouth. Just held it like a crutch, like if

the bleachers, both of us coughing our lungs out

seventeen and free.

smoke. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to smoke?” he muttered, one brow

my hand–burning for no one.

The shift was instant.

He fucking knew.

he said carefully. “Enough to want the bastard dead. But not

I swallowed hard.

“You saved me first.”

at me like he knew exactly what

off the wall, dragging a hand through his