His Trouble Maker

Chapter 141

JESSICA

I need them to submit to me.

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The metal bars hold the worst of them–no, the best–the farthest gone, the already half–born again, their skulls too wide, teeth all wrong, milk–sour drool and wrists rubbed raw from how long they’ve tried to fuck the air. One’s moaning. Another’s biting the floor.

But some are loose. Some are crawling.

I feel it before I see it: Logan.

He’s just sitting, knees up, elbows slung over them, blood drying on his temple. When his gaze hits mine, I stop crawling.

“Logan,” I whisper.

My knees burn. My wrists are shaking.

Logan’s eyes never leave mine.

I’m breathing through my mouth. Can’t close it. There’s heat in the pit of my back like something’s been summoned and it’s crawling toward the womb.

“Logan,” I whisper again, this time not soft.

He twitches.

Yes. Yes. That’s it.

I feel one of them sniff the back of my ankle. Another hisses, fists balled like a pup denied milk. But Logan- Logan is watching.

“Get up,” I say.

“You’re not real,” he whispers, but his body doesn’t back away. His shoulder leans like it’s nosing a den.

I lurch upright on my knees and he fucking groans. “I’m real, Logan. This is me. We have to-”

“No!”

“No!”

He’s panting now. Fingers clawing at the cement. Shit.

“I’m real, Logan. I’m the only thing real down here. Look at me.”

He can’t stop. His mouth’s open. Drool–or spit–or something worse–slack at the hinge, shoulders buckling

9:36 Thu, Sep 4

Chapter 141

like they want to break into paws.

His jaw snaps once, twice, like he’s testing it for fangs.

“Jess…?”

gasps, and that second I

I tell him, and I don’t care that my voice cracks like

low. Almost canine. He’s close but still it’s so

whimpers. “I can’t–I

can figure

long. If I don’t move. If I don’t submit the

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trembling, breath hot on the skin above my knee, one hand twitching against the floor like it wants to dig, claw, nest, breed. He’s half–changed, half–ruined–ripe. His hips keep twitching

need to let the others

say, looking at the

I crawl past him.

calf, keeping contact like it’s the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

stop at the

you want to go

She bares her teeth.

his own

“Open them,” Logan growls.

“I am.”

“No. Unlock them.”

know

The latch is simple. Rusted. Wants a handprint and a promise. I press my bloodied hand against

9:36 Thu, Sep 4

Chapter 141

Click.

The girl doesn’t bolt.

She kneels,

:

fucking thing, head bowed,

She smells Logan.

He growls.

“Not yet,” I whisper.

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The way’s open, Jess, I saw it, it’s down the

do we

as

shift. The feral ones don’t wait–bone cracking, tendon snapping, legs bowing like they’ve remembered how

howls. Their bodies swell past the limits of skin and scream and scar. One boy’s jaw splits sideways before it reforms, teeth triple- rowed. Another girl

say,

Some sniff my thighs like they think I’m the door itself. Logan kicks the bars open before I do. He’s not shifting. Not yet. Not with me here. His chest is heaving, veins high in his throat, his hands still clawless but itching like his skin doesn’t want to hold his

he says,

air changes. Where it stops smelling like meat and starts smelling like outside. The

But I don’t move.

Because I remember Riot.

barks. Actual bark this time. His voice is

say,

not leaving without

them. Run. You have

9:36 Thu, Sep 4

Chapter 141