His Trouble Maker

Perfect.

Chapter 118

JESSICA

“Hold still,” Grayson mutters, twisting the cap off and dumping disinfectant straight into the gash.

I bite the inside of my cheek, slow and deep. It hurts, sure, but that’s not why–I need control. Need the pain to look real. Controlled. Like I’m flinching for him, not for me.

He crouches close, cloth moving over my skin like he’s scared of breaking me. His fingers press steadier than they should, but his

eyes won’t meet mine.

My stomach flips. I swallow it. Nothing to feel bad about–except that I do.

“I shouldn’t have gone after him.” I let it out slow, quiet. The lie scrapes my throat raw. “I thought I could-“I stop before the rest

can crawl out.

“You were trying to protect us,” he says, cutting in. But the way he says it–it’s not for me. It’s for him. Like saying it out loud makes it real. “Could’ve been worse.”

I keep my eyes low. Watch the cloth darken with my blood. Could’ve gotten worse.

I wonder if Grayson will still forgive me after all of these lies.

“There, it’s good.”

Grayson leans back a little, his knees cracking as he shifts weight, and I can tell–he’s scanning me. “Can you tell me again what happened?”

I met his eyes this time. “W–What do you mean? I already told you everything.”

hard out of my mouth, like it doesn’t belong to me, and that’s good–makes the fear feel real, even if it’s fake. I duck my head slightly, like the eye contact hurts, let my fingers dig into my thigh

he lunged. That he wasn’t shifting

frantic, like I’m spiraling when I’m counting seconds in the back of my head. “I thought! imagined it. At first. But they were-“I suck in air like the memory knocks it loose. “They were glowing. Not gold. Not

flinch before I can stop it, drawing my arm tighter around my middle like I’m keeping something from

bit you?” he

breath–and look away as I

I saw him talking to Pierce. When he saw me eavesdropping on them, they quickly vanished outside making me a

already know it’s about Theo. About

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Chapter 118

and I need to stop them. He’s not ready yet. His body’s still changing, still rebuilding itself around what I gave

him or talk at him until the part of him I gave voice to gets buried under

won’t let

need to bleed. Shit. This is worse than

kind. I can’t go back out there with nothing real. I drag

instantly. Warm. Raw. Blood wells up thick and dark and I press into it harder, until it starts dripping down

I do it anyway. My pulse is racing too hard

push the door open.

the first

catch. Drag my bloody hand against the frame for balance.

“What the hell happened?”

myself. “I

my thigh, the way they

dragging my sleeve up, showing the edge of the fresh gash. “I… I must’ve

stepped forward and

he says, voice

“Excuse me?”