His Trouble Maker

Chapter 113

JESSICA

Grayson is wrong.

I shift on the mattress, sheets catching against my thigh, breath snagging in my throat.

He’s sleeping beside me like he always does. Possessive even in sleep. His hand curls heavy over my waist, rough palm pressing heat into my skin like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he blinks.

The thing is – I can’t fucking sleep.

It’s been three sunrises since I came back to him. Three dawns where my wolf paces restless under my ribs, claws scraping bone every time I close my

eyes.

Outside the walls, the world keeps moving. Riot’s still breathing. And I don’t know what the fuck they’re planning because they won’t tell me.

They told me not to ask. Told me to rest. But how can I do that when everytime I close my eyes I see Riot’s face? He’s trying to convince me to come back. He’s telling me it’s not over. And while Grayson told me it’s over I felt like it’s not really over.

He’s still here, somewhere.

Grayson’s breath drags rough beside me, chest rising heavy, lashes twitching like even asleep he’s fighting something ugly.

My heart twists, sharp and mean. I could stay. I could bury my face in his throat, let his scent drown it out for a while.

But that wouldn’t stop the nightmares.

Careful – slow, so I don’t wake him – 1 pry his arm from my waist. His fingers twitch in his sleep, wolf stubborn even unconscious.

I slip free – slow, breath caught in my chest – and just my fucking luck, there he is.

Theo.

Propped against the porch rail, cigarette burning low between his fingers, smoke curling around his jaw. Eyes catch on me the second I step out – dragging over bare legs, oversized shirt clinging to sweat–damp skin, hair a mess around my face.

he can’t decide if he

back, not sure if it wants to snap or

jagged pieces he

fucking

myself. Doesn’t mean

willing to stand here, bare feet freezing on the boards, night air licking my skin raw, and not spit in

his mouth when he talks. “Couldn’t sleep, princess?” His voice

His eyes flick past me, then back, sharp, catching every twitch in my shoulders.

wolf twitches at that. I want to ask. Instead, I move closer, boards creaking under my heel, smell of

1/3

Chapter 113

gonna tell Grayson you’re up?” Theo drawls, head tilting, smoke trailing from his lips. “Or just

my chest. “Let him sleep,” I mutter, Voice comes out softer than I

smoke curling around the words.

heard you two last

“Nosy princess.”

it,” I mutter, eyes dropping to the

I think I know. His jaw ticks, cigarette burning low between his fingers, ember

ask, or you gonna

I say, voice coming out flatter than I feel. “Saying he doesn’t want

bursting past his lips. “Course he fucking doesn’t,” he mutters, like it’s the

chest twists sharp.

you,” Theo rasps, head tipping back, eyes half–lidded, smoke trailing from his mouth into the dark.

ugly scratches at my

“That’s not true-”

to a growl. “He’d burn the whole fucking pack to keep you breathing, princess. You really think the crown matters more to

“Grayson loves the pack-”

mine, dark and sharp

It feels wrong.

“The rest of us?

down to me – wrong that the others would burn for it, wrong that he’d burn

“And what about me?”