His Trouble Maker

Chapter 109

GRAYSON

“I’m not watching you kill her!”

“Pierce-”

“No. Let him!” I throw a hand out, stopping Theo from going after him. “Let him go.”

I fucking get it. That shithead loves her. In his own twisted, useless way.

I get it.

But I’m not him.

I kneel by her again. Her lips are parted. Blood drying in the corners. Her pulse is thready as hell.

Fuck.

I swipe the sweat off her collarbone. She flinches. Not even awake, but still trying to fight. That’s my girl.

Theo’s pacing behind me, muttering under his breath like that’s gonna fix shit. I don’t look at him.

“Get me a knife,” I snap.

“What?” Theo freezes. “What the hell for?”

“I need blood. Mine.”

“You’re not making her drink again-”

“No. I’m claiming her.”

Silence.

Then Pierce laughs. Bitter. Loud. From the top of the hatch. “You’re insane.”

I don’t look at him. “Get me the damn knife.”

“You’re gonna do the mating here?” Theo asks, voice low, like maybe he didn’t hear me right. “Right now?”

“She’s not gonna make it to a fucking altar.”

“You’re not thinking-”

“She’s dying”

If I don’t do something, she’s going to die.

I’m not stupid. I know what I’m doing. My hands shake, but I keep them steady enough to unzip the black kit bag on the floor. There’s a drawer inste hidden under the first flap of gauze and burn gef, behind the false wall I stitched in years ago I already know what’s on there. I kept it the way she taught

me.

Obsidian blades wrapped in salt cloth.

magic.

Old magic. Blood magic. My mother’s magic. Stuff that got buried when the new regime took over, when the Elders outlawed half the shit that used to save lives, Stuff no one talks about anymore unless they want to be exiled.

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Chapter 109

She taught me before she died. Taught me with her hands

Pierce sure as

I don’t

exactly right–I can sever the imprint. I can cut Riot’s rot out of her spine and anchor her to me instead Hot mark claim the usual way. This is older. Dirtier. It’s the kind of magic that

cracking as he

snap, louder than I

back like I burned him, but he doesn’t drop

in three strides

way.” He’s panting. Eyes

exactly

needs rest–she

“She’s out of time.”

jerks on the cot again, mouth open in a silent scream. Her spine bows. Her fingers curl like claws around

at her, voice low and deadly. “That is not rest. That is not healing.

Theo looks away.

not asking,” I say. “I’m not negotiating. I’m not following orders. She’s mine. I’ll tear the rot

He hesitates.

a low rasping sound like

let go of Theo’s wrist. He stares at

God,” I mutter, “if you try to stop

my knees beside the cot, and start unwrapping the salt

blade is obsidian black. Dull on the edges. Sharp at the point. My fingers are steady now.

at her body–ruined and burning and still beautiful–and I know there’s

One spell.

Her to me.

Or nothing.

cloth peels

blood dried last time–my mother’s blood, maybe mine too. I don’t care. I ball the rag and toss it aside. The blade glints once in the low light,

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Chapter 109

heavier than

Good.

looking. “Boil water. Tear

Metal clatters. Theo paces the wall like a dog losing

already leaning over her, one knee wedged to the cot to steady her twitching body. I press the flat of my hand to her collarbone–right a púlse point where she used to

soft. “If

Her eyes are open now but looking straight through me. Pupils blown. Irises

harder. Anchor

body bows again like someone’s hooking wire through her spine and yanking. A low snarl slips from her

Not her voice.

Not her.

means

100%

toss it aside.

and she tried to jump that fence behind the butcher’s yard. She bles all

blood. New blood. All the

two fingers

Find the pulse.

The one my mother made me memorize by beating it into my back with a

Root. Blood. Anchor.

Jessica shrieks.