<b>Chapter 114 </b>


    JESSICA


    “You feel so good, Jess. You taste so fucking good, baby.”


    1


    let ou


    a whimper and rolled into the bed, reaching beside me only to find it empty. Goddess. What time is it?


    My head pounds as I blink up at the ceiling.


    I think I hurt my head. Or maybe I’m still dreaming. Or maybe I’ve just been having those nightmares all over again.


    I sit up slowly, washing my face with dry hands. It’s so fucked up to even think about that. What happened in that cell haunts me till now, I told Grayson about it, but telling him didn’t do anything to erase the pain. Sure, it lessened my guilt, but it never erased anything.


    Nothing.


    And just like that, I find myself staring at myself again. This is not me anymore. I’m so far from the Jessica Wilkinson that I have known and I don’t know how to make here back. I don’t know if I can even do that.


    Nothing will erase those painful memories….and yet, we’re still doing nothing.


    Nothing! We’re just here. Sitting. Sleeping. Cooking fucking breakfast like the world didn’t fall apart three days ago.


    What the fuck are we doing?


    I’m tired too.


    Tired of pretending I’m okay just because I’m back. Tired of Grayson acting like sleep will fix me. Sleep won’t even fix a broken heart. How can it fix a broken Luna?


    I took more minutes preparing myself before I found Grayson cooking breakfast for us.


    I stood there for a second. Just watching him.


    Do you know what’s crazy about all of this?


    This used to be my dream.


    I used to dream of waking up in Grayson’s white big shirt, then finding him cooking breakfast for me. I dreamt of sleepy kisses, his arms sliding around my waist, him putting me up on the countertop just to kiss me again. I dreamt of him whispering that I’m his girl, his Luna, the love of his life, forever.


    I used to want this so bad it hurt.


    But now? Now I stand here, wearing that shirt, watching him flip eggs in that pan, and it doesn’t feel like a dream.


    It feels like a nightmare.


    “Loving the view, baby?”


    I smirk, letting myself lean in the doorframe and tilt my head like I’m fine. Like I’m just some flirty girlfriend watching her mate cook half–naked <i>in </i>the


    kitchen.


    “Depends,” I say, voice light. “You nning to feed me or fuck me?”


    Graysonughs. “Still not satisfied fromst night?”


    Tss. Arrogant bastard.


    <b>45</b>%<b>0 </b>


    I swallow hard and push off the doorframe, walking to the counter slow. When I got there, I didn’t stop myself. I just moved. Just let my arms slide <b>around</b><b>. </b>his waist and pressed my cheek into his back.


    I feel him smile. His hand finds mine, fingers curling slow, thumb brushing my knuckles like he’s trying to ground me.


    “Morning, baby,” he murmurs.


    I nod against his spine.


    Don’t talk. Don’t breathe too loud. Just stay here. Just hold on. Pretend a little longer.


    Because for a second, this almost feels real.


    But then I blink, and I see that cell again. That cor. His eyes. His voice.


    “You taste so fucking good, baby.”


    My throat tightens. I pull away before he notices. Turn fast, like I’m grabbing something from the fridge.


    “You okay?” he asks, not turning yet.


    “Fine,” Ilie.


    Because if I say one more word, I think I’ll shatter. It took me a few seconds topose myself before I divert the topic. It’s not like he can read my mind anymore. We just lost..everything.


    “So,” I say, voice too light, too casual. “Where’s the others?”


    Grayson pauses for a beat. I know he hears the shift. He’s not dumb. But he ys along anyway. Because that’s what we do now.


    “Theo went out back. I think he’s patrolling the ridge line again,” he says, scraping eggs onto two tes. “Said something about the rogues getting


    braver.”


    Of course.


    Because even while everything inside me is breaking, the world outside is still bleeding too.


    “And my brother?” I ask, sliding into a chair. “Did you talk to him?”


    It’s a sour topic for him, I know that. But he is his Beta. And right now, Grayson can’t afford to lose anyone–not with the rogues watching, not with Riot out there breathing down our necks.


    Even Theo is useful now.


    Grayson exhales slowly. “He’s still angry.”


    “I’m not surprised.”


    “He’s also scared.”


    I look up. That makes me pause. “Scared?” techo, voice tter than I intend.


    “Of losing you again.”


    “Well,” I say after a beat, pushing my food around the te. “What can I say? I’m so loved.”


    Grayson tilts his head, one brow arching like he’s trying not to smite but fails anyway. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Loved. Stubborn. Dangerous.<b>” </b>


    “Mmm. You say that like it’s not your type.”


    “It is,” he says, leaning on the counter now, arms crossed, eyes dragging over me. “You are.”


    His voice dips on thatst part–soft, low, like it slips out before he can stop it. I roll my eyes, but I can’t fight the way my lips tug up. “Stop flirting <b>with </b>your Luna while she’s still so sore.<b>” </b>


    “Stop being so hot then.”


    <b>“</b>Tss. Pervert.”


    Grayson just grins and does whatever he’s doing. And I know I’m pushing my luck here but we have to have this conversation, “Did you and Pierce talk?” i ask, letting my voice drop again. Softer this time. “Like, really talk?”


    His back stiffens almost immediately. “We’re fine,” he says tly.


    That’s it.


    “Fine?” I echo, brows pulling together. “That’s all you’re giving me?”


    He grabs a te. Sets it down a little too hard. “What do you want me to say, Jess?” he mutters. “That we cried and hugged it out? That everything’s


    fixed?”


    “No,” I say slowly. “But maybe something more than ‘we’re fine. You’re his Alpha. He’s your Beta. He’s your best friend.”


    He finally looks at me, and it’s sharp this time–defensive, tired, like I touched something raw. “Stop talking.”


    I blink. Hard.


    “Excuse me?”


    “Jess,” he mutters, voice already darker, jaw ticking. “Don’t push this right now.”


    “Do you know what your problem is, Grayson?”


    His eyes flick to mine. “Careful.”


    “No. You don’t get to ‘careful‘ me right now<i>,</i>” I snap, standing from the chair so fast it scrapes the floor. “Your problem is you keep pretending you’re the only one who got hurt and suffered.”


    He turns fully now. Hands braced on the counter, muscles tense like he’s barely holding himself back.


    “Don’t do this.”


    “I was the one in that cell.” My voice cracks, loud now, chest heaving. “I was the one screaming for help and getting silence. I was the one who came back with nightmares stitched into my skin.”


    “And you think that doesn’t fucking kill me?” he snaps, stepping forward. “You think I sleep? You think I breathe easy knowing what he did to you— knowing I didn’t stop it?”


    “Then why are <i>you </i>acting like everything’s fine? Like breakfast and pancakes can fix it all?”


    “Because if I stop pretending, Jess-” His voice breaks, hard and sharp, “-I will fucking lose it.”


    We’re standing so close now. Too close. Breath colliding. Eyes locked like neither of us knows if we’re about to fight or fall apart or both.


    “Then lose it!” I shout. “For once, fucking lose it!”


    “You want me to lose it?” he growls, voice low, shaking. “You want me to show you what that looks like?”


    His chest rises and falls like he’s two seconds from exploding. My fists are clenched. My whole body vibrating.


    <b>3/4 </b>


    “I want you to feel something, Grayson! Anything real. Anything that isn’t this fake, perfect Alpha maste you keep wasting like we didn’t post bruns than whole world down?”


    His eyes darken. “You want real?”


    I don’t move. I don’t blink.


    “Give it to me<b>.</b><b>” </b>


    1