His Trouble Maker

GRAYSON

I smell rot.

Moss, old blood, mildew crawling through bark. No wolves. And that tells me exactly what I need to know, there’s nothing here so it’s either Pierce is fucking with me or he’s….betraying me.

That last thought made a fucking snap inside me.

He’s ahead of me again, saying something. I don’t hear it. I’m already inside the spiral. Already halfway gone.

I’ve known him since I was young. Since blood meant brothers and secrets meant loyalty. Since we took our first shifts and swore on bone that no matter what happened, we’d never turn on each other. We used to bury our kills together. We used to run the ridge and mark the trees. He stood beside me when I bled for this pack.

And now we’re walking into corpse territory and he expects me not to notice the silence?

I pick up speed.

I shove past a low branch and let it snap behind me. Pierce will never betray me. What the fuck was I thinking?

“You okay?” Pierce asks without turning.

I should laugh.

I don’t. I just say, “You better be right about this pack.”

“They’ll help.”

“You ever think maybe Riot’s not the only one who knows how to set a trap?” I say it slow. Heavy.

Pierce turns.

That’s the first time he’s looked me in the face in ten minutes. His brows lift. Calm. But I see the flicker. Just a second too long before he speaks.

“You think I’d lead you into one?”

1 stare at him.

I don’t blink.

“You’ve done worse.”

forces his expression back into that neutral, too–fucking–smooth

do. I

one could read him. Not even his mother. Not the alphas he served

1/3

Chapter 125

And now he brings me here, into this silent, rotting forest, chasing some half–buried rumor about a pack that’ll help us reclaim control from Riot–as if any wolf with a spine would willingly stand behind me after

everyone who wants to steal the power from me. I’m used to it now. I don’t even breathe differently when it comes. I just count the pieces I have left

to lose.

supposed to be

into my skin, the one who bled with me when I swore I’d never be owned again. My

Riot stood in my place and took my pack. When the others turned. I had one constant. One fucking anchor. And

be some fucking test. Some dumb, reckless gamble that ends with us laughing and bloody and alive. But I know that

weight

standing in the middle of rot and moss and no wolves

that’s it. That’s all it

under his spine with a crack. I feel ribs shift. His breath punches out in a grunt I don’t even register as human. My forearm jams up under his chin until I see the whites of his eyes. His heel scrapes against the dirt like he’s deciding whether

my forearm across his throat and lean in close, until I’m breathing down on him. “You lied to me,” I spit. “Or you’re about to. And if you don’t give me a name in the next three seconds, I swear to every god that ever made me, 1 will gut

jaw locks. His fists clench.

I want him to snap. I want him to give me

arm tighter

realization dawned on me and I growled, throwing him to the ground., Shit. SHit. I fucking knew what he

Jessica!

“You sold her,”

collar, haul him upright with one hand, and slam him back against the tree so hard it

it,” I snarl into his face, “so I know which

cowardice before his tongue finds the words.