His Trouble Maker

Chapter 129

Chapter 129

JESSICA

413

I can’t keep track of what’s real. I don’t remember moving. My chest is tight, breath sharp, rain drilling down my back like it’s trying to get under the skin.

Theo. Did. It.

I don’t believe him. Except I do. Except I always knew. Except something in me went quiet the second the words left Riot’s mouth.

Now I’m trying to count my breath but it’s off. I keep hitting the same number twice. I keep skipping three and five. The cold’s finally sinking in–deep, sharp, mean—and I try to pull my arm back but his grip doesn’t slip. I dig my heel in. I stumble. I twist. His fingers just dig harder.

I blink and everything’s too sharp. Leaves dripping black. Sky cracked open with veins of light. The wind keeps changing direction. Like it’s trying to find me. Like it’s smelling for something already dying.

It’s not rain. It’s not cold. It’s something worse. It’s the feeling right before something sinks its teeth into the back of your neck.

Am I fucking guilty? Absolutely. It’s a trial I chose, thinking I could change the course of our lives. I just…didn’t expect it would turn

out like this one.

He said Theo ate the whole village.

No. No. Fuck that. Fuck that-

1 jerk against the rope again. My wrists scream. Good. I yank until it feels like something’s tearing under the skin. I need this part to hurt. I need to know where my body ends. I need to hold on to something that doesn’t shift and rot and grin with meat in its teeth.

He ate them. He turned the pack into red streaks and fucking confetti.

I curl forward, forehead to my knees. Sweat and dirt sting where the bark’s bitten me.

Grayson.

Oh fuck.

Grayson’s going to walk into that. His pack. His home. Bits of it in Theo’s mouth. Bones scattered.

He’s going to look at the worst thing I’ve ever done and know—she did this.

Not Theo. Not Riot. Me.

I breathe hard, Fists shaking. I count it. One breath. Two, Three. Try to fold it into order. Try to wrap the panic in numbers like I can control it.

Four. Five. Six. Stop shaking. STOP.

But it won’t. My whole body’s gone to war with itself. I’m hot and cold and bile and rage. My wrists are raw. My eyes won’t close without flashing red.

“Walk faster, Jessica!”

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My knee buckles and I swallow it before he hears. He’s not looking anyway–he’s already yanking the chain again like I’m something to haul, not someone. My feet slip on the slope. Leaves slick under my boots. Cold needles stab through the gaps in my clothes. Rain like knives now, straight into the back of

matter with

I snap.

mean to. My body does it

throw my elbow into his ribs. Not enough

my back like whips now. My nose smashes

trained you,

I hissed. Voice half–gone. Tongue

hurt you,” Riot mutters finally. “If I wanted to,

getting you

is rough, cracked. “Why should I believe

hands are shaking again and

“Shit,” he mutters.

I’ll be damned if I’m hearing fear in

through

is it?”

“Run.”

lurches forward. Mud, bark, undergrowth–everything slick, everything biting back. I don’t move fast enough. His hand yanks again. The

“RIOT–”

like nothing’s sacred anymore. Not the rain,

Cold

I shout, spitting

He doesn’t answer.

looks back–and I see

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make what is it but

shakes.

tilts. The roots rise.

“MOVE!” Riot barks.

I don’t.

fear. My mouth tastes like iron.

it like he’s done this before, like this isn’t the first girl he’s had to drag out of hell. He hauls me up and throws me forward. My knees hit