His Trouble Maker

Chapter 130

GRAYSON

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“You’re too calm, Grayson. Tell me what’s going on in your head,” Pierce barks behind me, but I keep walking. My fists are clenched so tight my knuckles are white, and my jaw feels like it’s about to crack. Honestly, all I wanted was to run and kill Riot.

My instincts were screaming at me to tear him apart, to make him pay. To show everyone what happens when you cross me. When you touch what’s mine.

Pierce was still talking, but I wasn’t listening. I continue to just stride to the ground thinking of ways to cut Riot when I’m back on my throne as being the Westwood pack.

I stop dead in my tracks, the air around me practically crackling with tension. My chest rises and falls like I’ve just run a marathon, and my vision sharpens, zeroing in on the trees ahead like they’re prey.

“Grayson,” Pierce’s voice is closer now, cautious. “You need to breathe. Think.”

“Think?” I snap, whirling around to face him. My voice is low, dangerous. “I am thinking. I’m thinking about how Riot’s still breathing after what he did. How he’s out there, laughing, while my pack is-”

I cut myself off, my throat tightening. The image of them flashes in my mind–my pack, my wolves. I failed them once. I won’t do it again.

Pierce takes a step back, his hands up like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “We’ll get him. But not like this. Not when you’re-”

“Not when I’m what?” I growl, taking a step forward. “Angry? Furious? I’m the Alpha, Pierce. This isn’t just anger. This is me protecting what’s mine.”

He doesn’t say anything, just watches me with those knowing eyes of his. And for a second, I hate him for it.

I turn away, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. “I’ll kill him,” I say softly, more to myself than to Pierce. “I’ll kill him, and then I’ll make sure no one ever threatens my pack again.”

Pierce doesn’t respond immediately. He just watches me because he knows better than to argue when I’m like this. Finally, he sighs. “You’re not thinking straight, Grayson. This isn’t just about you.”

1 glare at him, my chest heaving. “It’s “always” about me. I’m the Alpha. If I let this slide, they’ll think I’m weak.”

We keep walking, the forest closing in around us. The air is thick, almost oppressive, like it’s holding its breath. By the time we reach the pack village, it’s already night.

I stop at the edge of the clearing, my wolf senses on high alert. Pierce does the same, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife at his belt.

“Something’s wrong,” he mutters, his voice/low.

Something is definitely wrong. The pack has never been this eerie quiet.

I nod, my jaw tightening. “Stay close.”

We step into the village, and that’s when the smell hits me. Blood. So much blood. My stomach twists, but I force myself to keep moving.

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Chapter 130

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Still dripping. Still

I just stare at it while my boots sink into the mud, except it’s not just mud. It’s soaked

Pierce whispers behind

not even close enough

Tam.

near the steps of the meeting house. No head. Ribs split clean down the middle like someone reached in and peeled it open. Heart gone. One lung hanging from the edge

me, but I can’t answer. I’m

crouch. My hand shakes and I try to control it. I can’t. I touch the chest, what’s left of it. Still warm. Still twitching. The nerves

I see his

the top half, lodged in the

Jace.

recruit. Eighteen. Never shifted clean. Couldn’t even take down a deer without throwing up. I trained him. He always smiled when he lost. Always tried again. And now his jaw’s missing. Just–gone. Tongue ripped out. His

up through

the pain–my teeth grinding down so hard I almost crack one. My hands shake. My claws are already out. I didn’t even

I smell them everywhere.

blood. My blood.

tried to crawl out before their legs were taken. I follow it with my eyes. Bits of skin, bits

barks somewhere behind me.”

I stand up.

I don’t answer.

every tree between here

walking forward to the darkness and finding out the dark is not what I really

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08:14 Wed, 3 Septtie.

Chapter 130

in it.

to be in control, Alpha. You’re supposed to protect

gripping a stuffed wolf. It’s been

(Where were you, Grayson?)

a body with its throat chewed open, spine split, eyes

They all fought.

and

were alive when it started. They didn’t die clean. They

mattered.

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I feel it hammering in my throat, feel it kick behind my ribs like it’s trying

And then-

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