Chapter 113
JESSICA
Grayson is wrong.
I shift on the mattress, sheets catching against my thigh, breath snagging in my throat.
He’s sleeping beside me like he always does. Possessive even in sleep. His hand curls heavy over my waist, rough palm pressing heat into my skin like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he blinks.
The thing is – I can’t fucking sleep.
It’s been three sunrises since I came back to him. Three dawns where my wolf paces restless under my ribs, claws scraping bone every time I close my
eyes.
Outside the walls, the world keeps moving. Riot’s still breathing. And I don’t know what the fuck they’re planning because they won’t tell me.
They told me not to ask. Told me to rest. But how can I do that when everytime I close my eyes I see Riot’s face? He’s trying to convince me to come back. He’s telling me it’s not over. And while Grayson told me it’s over I felt like it’s not really over.
He’s still here, somewhere.
Grayson’s breath drags rough beside me, chest rising heavy, lashes twitching like even asleep he’s fighting something ugly.
My heart twists, sharp and mean. I could stay. I could bury my face in his throat, let his scent drown it out for a while.
But that wouldn’t stop the nightmares.
Careful – slow, so I don’t wake him – 1 pry his arm from my waist. His fingers twitch in his sleep, wolf stubborn even unconscious.
I slip free – slow, breath caught in my chest – and just my fucking luck, there he is.
Theo.
Propped against the porch rail, cigarette burning low between his fingers, smoke curling around his jaw. Eyes catch on me the second I step out – dragging over bare legs, oversized shirt clinging to sweat–damp skin, hair a mess around my face.
He snorts, mouth twisting like he’s half amused, half starving. Like he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or bite. Typical Theo.
My wolf shifts under my ribs, ears back, not sure if it wants to snap or ignore him.
But I know Theo. Know the rot in him. Know the jagged pieces he hides behind that grin. I also know what Pierce told me.
That Theo stayed. That he helped. That when I was choking on Riot’s fucking bond, Theo nearly tore his own throat out trying to get to me.
Doesn’t mean I forgive myself. Doesn’t mean I forget what he’s done.
It just means I’m willing to stand here, bare feet freezing on the boards, night air licking my skin raw, and not spit in his face.
He flicks ash over the edge, smoke curling around his mouth when he talks. “Couldn’t sleep, princess?” His voice is lower than usual. “Want to smoke again?”
Theo huffs out something between a laugh and a snarl. His eyes flick past me, then back, sharp, catching every twitch in my shoulders. “Guess none of us sleep easy anymore,” he rasps.
My gaze drops to his knuckles – scabbed raw, like he’s been punching something that didn’t punch back. My wolf twitches at that. I want to ask. Instead, I move closer, boards creaking under my heel, smell of cigarette smoke and pine sap crawling up my throat.
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Chapter 113
“You gonna tell Grayson you’re up?” Theo drawls, head tilting, smoke trailing from his lips. “Or just let him wake up and tear the house apart looking?
I snort–dry, humorless- arms crossing under my chest. “Let him sleep,” I mutter, Voice comes out softer than I want. “He fucking needs it.”
“Yeah,” he mutters back, smoke curling around the words. “He does.”
“I heard you two last night.”
“Nosy princess.”
“Couldn’t exactly help it,” I mutter, eyes dropping to the boards between us. “You weren’t exactly quiet.”
Theo’s gaze drags over me, slow, sharp, like he’s measuring what I heard, what I think I know. His jaw ticks, cigarette burning low between his fingers, ember bright in the dark.
“So,” he drawls, words stretched, heavy. “You gonna ask, or you gonna stand there pretending you don’t give a fuck?”
“I heard Grayson,” I say, voice coming out flatter than I feel. “Saying he doesn’t want to be Alpha anymore.”
Theo snorts, smoke bursting past his lips. “Course he fucking doesn’t,” he mutters, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
My chest twists sharp. “Since when?”
“Since he nearly lost you,” Theo rasps, head tipping back, eyes half–lidded, smoke trailing from his mouth into the dark. “Since Riot fucking happened. Since before that, probably. He never wanted this shit, Jess. Not really.”
Something ugly scratches at my chest.
“That’s not true-”
Theo cuts me off, voice dropping to something harsher, closer to a growl. “He’d burn the whole fucking pack to keep you breathing, princess. You really think the crown matters more to him than you?”
“Grayson loves the pack-”
His eyes lift, catching mine, dark and sharp and fucking tired. “You’re his pack
It feels wrong.
now,” he mutters. “The rest of us? Doesn’t matter half as much.”
Wrong that everything should come down to me – wrong that the others would burn for it, wrong that he’d burn himself for me.
“And what about me?”
His brow twitches, just a flicker. “What about you?”
“What if…” I swallow, mouth dry as ash, words crawling up slow. “What if I could convince him to go back? To take over again?”
Theo’s gaze sharpens, smoke gone from the edges, something almost hungry there. “You think you could do that?”
I force my shoulders back, heart pounding so hard it almost drowns my thoughts.
“Maybe,” I rasp. “He listens to me. Or–he used to”
I know it’s hypocritical to ask for that when all want is to truly get away and to start another life with him. But there’s a pack and his people waiting for
him and I am not like that.
My love for Grayson is selfish but it’s not merciless. It knows no bounds but it’s not also unaware of how many lives we’re ruining just for us to be together.
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07:40 Mon, 1 Sept
Chapter 113
The wind cuts through the trees, stirring dead leaves across the yard. My hair whips across my cheek, cold biting the sweat cooling on my
lift my chin, throat dry as bone, guilt scraping raw under my ribs. “What if I really could convince him, Theo?”
His gaze drags over me, sharp and dark, smoke trailing lazy from the corner of his mouth. “Then you better fucking mean it, he rasps “Because wishe losing – and we’re losing big time. Packs watching. Rogues moving. Riot ain’t done.”
My nails press half–moons into the rail, heartbeat pounding so hard it rattles my ribs. Fuck.
“And if I ask…“—words taste like rust on my tongu
“and he says yes… what then?”
- e. “Then we pay you standing, prices. one of thou thin
Theo’s mouth twists, cigarette ember flaring red.
My wolf stirs, restless under my skin. I swallow, throat burning. What if it ruins him? What if it ruins us?
But maybe it’s already ruined. And maybe I’m the only one who can drag him back.
