Chapter 98
GRAYSON
She doesn’t mean it.
That’s what I tell myself while her voice rips through me like claws through flesh. But that doesn’t make the words hurt any less.
You’re a coward.
She spit it at me like it was a truth she’d been sharpening for months, and maybe it was. Maybe she meant every syllable. Maybe I earned it.
I am a fucking coward when it comes to her. Maybe being Alpha isn’t enough if I can’t even keep her safe. Maybe I’m so stubborn–so godsdamn obsessed with wanting her in this lifetime–that I’ve ruined everything.
But what can I do?
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What the fuck can I do when I am so in love with her?
“Let me go!” she screamed it again, rage curdled into something half–broken, half–feral. I shoved the door open with my shoulder and kicked it closed behind us, one arm locked around her ribs, the other fending off the hits she didn’t even realize she was landing.
“You’re not going out there,” I growled, breath ragged, forehead pressed to hers for a second too long. “Not like this.”
Her hands shoved at my chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I do when you’re bleeding and ready to kill someone and you can’t fucking stand.”
“I’ll crawl.”
“You’ll fucking die.”
“I don’t care!”
That did it. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her backward, her legs buckling as she hit the floor. I was on her in seconds, my hands pinning her arms down, my weight trapping her.
“You don’t fucking care?” ! spat, voice guttural, my breath harsh against her cheek. “You don’t fucking care if you die?”
She thrashed against me–hips jerking, teeth bared, trying to tear free–and I pressed harder, shoved my thigh between hers to trap her legs from kicking again.
“Yes!”
“Yes, I’d rather fucking die than stay here locked up like your broken little pet!”
She bucked again–hard–and I caught her with my body, my hand fisting in her hair, yanking her head back so I could see her, bare her throat, force her to face what she was saying.
“You don’t get to say that.” My voice broke low, sayage, ragged at the edges like I was choking on all the things I couldn’t fix. “You don’t get to look me in the eye and tell me death’s better than me.”
“I’ve almost killed Riot! We could’ve won and-
“And you could’ve died!” I roared, the sound/ripping out of me like it had claws. “You would’ve! You were seconds from bleeding out and you didn’t even
know it!”
“I didn’t care!” she screamed back, kicking at my thigh. “Do you know what he’s done to me?”
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Chapter 98
I froze.
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“Jessica-”
She shoved me back with both hands, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not with the way she was shaking now.
“You weren’t there!” Her voice tore into a sob, wild and strangled. “He locked the door. He laughed when I screamed.”
My heart stopped.
She was trembling, fists curled, eyes rimmed in red like she’d scratched her own soul trying to get it out.
“I begged him to stop,” she whispered, voice shredding. “And you weren’t there.”
And fuck, I’d been angry. I’d been so godsdamn furious she ran out and risked everything. But that? That wasn’t fury anymore. That was shame. That was horror. That was my spine turning to ice as her words wrapped around my throat and choked me.
I stepped toward her and she backed up, chest heaving.
“Jess,” I said–softer, broken, scared for the first time in my life. “Baby…”
“No.” She shook her head violently, like if she didn’t, she’d fall apart completely. “You don’t get to call me that. Not when I screamed for you.”
I wasn’t–but I wasn’t there either.
“I screamed,” she whispered again, like she needed me to understand it wasn’t just once. “I screamed for you.”
And then she dropped.
Just collapsed right there on the floor like her knees gave out under the weight of it all–arms shaking, breathing like she couldn’t find air, hair falling in her face. She clawed at it, yanked it back, pulled at the roots like she wanted to rip herself out of her own body.
“Jess–fuck.” I dropped to my knees in front of her, palms out, chest cracking open. “Look at me. Please. Just look at me.”
She didn’t. She curled into herself like she was folding in on something rotting inside her, hands over her ears, rocking. “I should’ve killed him. I should’ve torn his fucking throat out. I should’ve–I should’ve—”
“Stop,” I choked, reaching, grabbing her wrists too hard but I didn’t/care–she was unraveling and I couldn’t let her, “You didn’t do anything wrong. He
did.”
She jerked back, sobbing now, shaking like an earthquake had started in her bones. “I let him! I froze! I didn’t fight-”
I grabbed her face. Firm. Fingers spread across her jaw, holding her there, anchoring her. “You survived.”
Her eyes finally met mine–and they were so red, so wet, like they’d been bleeding instead of crying.
“You don’t get to hate yourself for staying alive,” I whispered, forehead falling to hers. “Don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that.”
I buried my hand in her hair, kissed the top of her head, my throat burning with every apology I didn’t know how to say. My chest fucking ached. Jessica continues to sob and I hate myself for it.
I should’ve been there. I should’ve ripped the door off its hinges. I should’ve gutted him before he ever laid a finger on her. I should’ve smelled the fear on her skin, and heard her screaming through the stone. I should’ve known.
But I didn’t.
Watching her suffer–watching her blame herself–watching her sob like she hated herself for surviving–was the cruelest punishment the gods could’ve ever given me.
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And I would’ve taken her pain a thousand times over just to stop the sound she made when she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.”
I broke.
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Silently, Violently. From the inside out.
Because she was never supposed to be strong enough to survive that alone.
She was supposed to have me.
And I fucking failed her.
I’ve watched her cry in her sleep for hours before I finally let go and tucked her in the bed. It’s more painful to see her hating herself than hating everyone else including me.
I muttered a silent apology before I walked outside and found Theo. He’s reading some shit, while smoking at the back of this small house we’ve found hear the lake.
He was leaning against the wall, hood up, cigarette glowing at the edge of his fingers. Reading something.
“Done with the drama?” he muttered without looking up.
“Shut up,” I snapped, jaw grinding. “You got another stick?”
He glanced over, took one look at me and tossed the cigarette pack without a word. I lit one with shaking fingers but never really put it to my mouth. Just held it like a crutch, like if I let go I’d fucking collapse.
The last time I smoked was with Pierce, under the bleachers, both of us coughing our lungs out before deciding we hated it. We were dumb and
seventeen and free.
Theo leaned back against the wall again, arms crossed, watching me through the smoke. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to smoke?” he muttered, one brow raised.
I didn’t answer. Just stared at the glowing tip in my hand–burning for no one. “Do you know what happened to her in the cell?” I asked instead.
The shift was instant.
He fucking knew.
“Not exactly,” he said carefully. “Enough to want the bastard dead. But not the details.”
I swallowed hard.
“You saved me first.”
Theo didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me–really looked at me like he knew exactly what I meant. What I was asking.
He exhaled and pushed off the wall, dragging a hand through his hair. “Pierce wanted to save her. But he got caught.”
My stomach turned
He went back for her. And got himself locked up because of it.
“And me?” I asked, bitter, broken, like the answer might kill me. “Why did you help me? Why are you helping us now?”
Theo didn’t answer right away.
I exiled him out of the pack and branded him as a traitor for everything that he’d done with Jessica.
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Chapter 98
Finally, he scoffed. “Let’s just say I want a coup.”
My eyes narrowed.
“But this time… with another Westwood. And that’s not you.”
I stared at him, every instinct screaming not to trust him. But fuck if he wasn’t right. Riot had to fall.
“You have to claim her properly, Grayson.”
I turned my head slowly, the weight of those words sinking in like a brand on my spine.
“What the fuck do you mean–‘claim her‘?”
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“I mean,” he said flatly, “you need to finish the fucking bond. Rip her wide open, mark her deep enough she can’t forget you, even when she’s lost inside that goddamn monster you left her to rot with.”
My breath stopped.
“She’s not a fucking toy–”
“No. She’s a beast,” Theo snapped. “I think you know now why her wolf is like that.”
I have my suspicions but that doesn’t mean I’m going to ruin Jessica’s life.
“Her father is a rogue, Grayson.”
I blinked. Once. Twice. And then the ground wasn’t steady anymore. “W–What?”
Theo nodded.” And I think you’ve known it too for a little while.”
When she was first attacked by the rogues and it tries to mate with her, I formed a crazy conclusion. But I didn’t have time to confirm it because I was busy falling in love with her.
But hell.
There’s rogue blood. In her.
My mate.
My god damn mate.
The one thing every Elder, every Alpha, every textbook on pack law had warned us about. Rogue bloodlines corrupted bonds. They didn’t strengthen them. They frayed them. Broke them. They birthed beasts who couldn’t be leashed.
And Jessica–my beautiful, wrecked, furious girl–had been shifting into something darker every single week.
Her wolf hadn’t just awakened. It had reared back and bitten. Feral. Confused. Starving.
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AD
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