<b>Chapter </b><b>115 </b>
GRAYSON
I don’t think she’s hearing a single word she says.
It’s like Jess is speaking from somewhere ten feet behind her chest–sharp, certain, the kind of certainty only stubborn people or martyrs ever get. Her jaw’s locked, lips barely moving as she spits the words. Every sentence is a knife. Every breath, loaded.
She’s not asking.
She’s already decided.
And that’s the part that fucking kills me.
Because I know where this goes. I’ve seen it before–in my brother, in the ones who thought they were stronger than fate. You make war against your blood, and it doesn’t end clean. Doesn’t end with a crown or a funeral pyre. Ends with you standing over someone you used to love, and not knowing
who you are anymore.
Jess doesn’t get that yet.
She thinks the fire in her chest is enough to carry her through. That being right is enough to make her safe.
But I’ve been to the other side of right.
I’ve seen what it turns you into.
And still–still–I can’t look away.
She stands there, storm–eyed and half–wild, chin up like she’s daring me to stop her, and all I want is to grab her, shove her against the wall, and kiss that
furious mouth until it softens. Until she remembers we’re not enemies.
That I’m not him.
But I don’t move.
I just breathe her in. Blood, dirt, salt, magic. The tremble in her left hand she doesn’t think I see. The crack in her voice she doesn’t admit.
She’s already gone.
Walking into war like it’s her birthright, like she wasn’t made to be held, loved, saved,
Jess meets my eyes like a challenge.
And 1–God help me—I nod,
Because I won’t break her,
Even if she breaks herself.
Even if it’s me she shatters on the way.
If she’ll ask me about my n, I’ll tell her the truth.
That I dream every night of knotting inside her–deep, final, brutal–marking her until she’s mine and no one else’s. That I wake with her name in my mouth and the ache still in my chest. That I’d rather be her fucking pet than an alpha without her.
I’ve already reduced myself to her lover.
And I don’t regret it.
It’s the only thing that still feels holy.
But she won’t ask me.
She doesn’t care about ns. Not mine, not hers. Not anymore.
She’s here to bleed.
We’re all in the woods now–cleared space surrounded by ck pines, the ground uneven, moss slick underfoot. No rules, no titles. Just sweat and rage and fists.
Jessica’s breathing hard across from me, shoulders glinting with sweat, shirt clinging to her back like a second skin. Her lip’s split. Her knuckles red. And she’s still fucking going.
“Come on, then,” she spits, circling me like I’m prey.
“Don’t,” I growl. “You’re tired. Your form’s shit.”
“Afraid I’ll win?”
I lunge before she can blink.
Pin her. Hard.
She bucks like a wild thing, elbow aimed for my jaw, and it connects. My head snaps sideways, and I taste copper.
Theoughs behind me–sharp, mocking. “You getting soft, Gray?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I bark without looking.
Jessica uses the distraction to twist free. Her body ms into mine again, faster this time, teeth gritted, every inch of her vibrating with anger. Not at me. Not really. But I’m the closest thing she can hit.
And I let her.
She deserves to feel something that’ll fight back.
Pierce steps forward, chin high, already cocky. “This your n? Let her beat you to shit and hope she thanks youter?”
1 stand. Blood down my chin, shirt ripped. Still staring at her.
“She doesn’t need thanks,” I say. “She needs someone who won’t fucking leave her when the bond turns her inside out.”
“She needs control,” Theo snaps. “Not another wolf obsessed with her scent.”
That’s when I lose it,
I shove him. “Say that again.”
He does.
“Obsessed. You reek of it. It’s pathetic.”
I hit him once. Just once. And it’s enough to send him staggering.
Jessica steps between us, panting. “You two done measuring your dicks or do I need to castrate you both?”
Theo wipes blood from his lip. “He started it.”
I stare at her. “You want to train? Fine. But don’t look at me like I’m the enemy when all I’m trying to do is keep <i>you </i>breathing.”
Her eyes flick. “Then don’t get in my fucking way.”
She hits.
Hard.
Knuckles crash into my jaw, heel of her palm jamming into my chest. I barely block the next one. My ribs absorb the blow. She moves fast–wild, reckless -throwing every ounce of fury into the swing like I’m the one who abandoned her. Like I’m the brother who ruined her life.
I grab her wrist. She twists free.
We’re back to circling, breath short, eyes locked.
And then-
She charges.
I brace toote.
We hit the ground together–hard. My spine knocks against packed earth, her weight mming into me. She’s straddling my hips, fists raised, hair sticking to her cheeks, mouth parted like she wants to scream but won’t.
“Say it,” she snarls.
I grip her thighs, dig my fingers in. “Say what?”
“That you think I’m weak.”
I shove up.
We roll–twist–grass grinding into our skin. I’ve got her under me now, forearm to her throat, legs pinning hers. She bucks like she wants to kill me. God,
I’d let her.
“I don’t think you’re weak,” I grit out, jaw throbbing. “I think you’re/stupid.”
Her eyes re.
“And I think you want to die before he gets the chance to kill you himself.”
She spits in my face.
I blink.
Then smile.
“I should kiss you for that,” I mutter, voice low, shaking.
She goes still.
Just for a second.
Then she ms her forehead into mine<b>. </b>
Stars burst behind my eyes. Blood on my tongue.
Chapter 115**N
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” she hisses, breath ragged.
“And you’re in love with me,” I fire back, not caring how much it costs.
Her fistnds on my chest before I can finish breathing it. Hard. Bone to muscle, no hesitation.
“Fuck you, Grayson.”
“I’m right.”
“You’re always fucking right, aren’t you?” Her voice cracks on it, but she doesn’t let up. “Even when you’re bleeding, even when you’re wrong, even when you’ve got no goddamn idea what I’m surviving.”
My grip tightens on her arms–enough to still her, not enough to hurt. “You don’t get to lecture me on surviving.”
She goes still under me. “Let me up.”
“No.”
“Let me-”
A sharp whistle cuts the air.
Theo.
Leaning against a tree, one brow raised, lips twitching around a smug grin. “You two done dry–humping each other into a therapy bill, or should we clear
the whole forest?”
Jessica whips her head toward him like she could rip it off his shoulders.
“I swear to god, Theo-”
“Okay.” Pierce cuts in, stepping forward, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s about to lose it. “That’s enough, kids.”
Jessica shoves at me. Hard. “Get off.”
I do.
Only because she’s vibrating with rage and I’m two seconds from either snapping or snapping her back into ce, and neither’s a good call.
She storms to her feet, spinning on Pierce with a look that could curdle blood.
“Don’t call me that.”
He blinks. “Call you what?”
“Kid,” Her voice is low now, Cold, “You don’t get to talk down to me like I’m not the reason your sorry ass is still breathing.”
Theo snorts. “Well, that escted.”
“Shut up, Theo,” she and I say at the same time.
Pierce raises his hands. “Jesse on.”
“No,” she snaps. “Don’te on me. Don’t act like this is normal, like I’m not standing here covered in bruises while the pack debates whether I’m useful or expendable.”
No one speaks.
09:01 Tue, 2 Sept? ?
Wind rustles the trees. My heart drums like it’s trying to break out of my chest.
Jess breathes hard, jaw clenched, <b>fists </b>tighter.
“I’m not a fucking kid,” she says again, quieter now. “And the next one who calls me that gets their throat ripped out. Got it?”
She turns, locks eyes with me like it’s not over.
Because it’s not.
And walks.
Leaves us all behind like she’s the only one still moving forward
Because maybe she is.
And maybe that’s what scares me most.
JESSICA
I freaking hate Grayson Westwood!
Fuck.
Iscoff, throwing some pebbles into the damnke. The way he’s acting is making me feel sorry for the pack.
He made me feel sorry I ever believed he’d be better than his father. That he’d protect me—not just when it’s convenient or when it makes him look like the hero, but when it’s me on the edge of something I can’t name.
I crouch at the water’s edge and let my fingers sink into the mud. Cool. Grounding. Dirty. Better than the way my thoughts won’t shut up.
He says he trusts me. He says he sees me. But the second I stop pretending to be soft, he flinches.
What the hell does he think this is?
This rage? This instinct? The part of me that wants to tear throats and rip lies out of people’s mouths with my teeth? That’s not a phase. That’s not a side effect. That’s me. It’s what kept me alive when the rest of them turned their backs.
So yeah, maybe I’m not easy to lead. Maybe I make them nervous.
I didn’t survive all that shit just to be told I’m too much.
The pack wants obedience? Let them train dogs.
I was born a fucking wolf.
And Grayson–he should’ve known better.
“Well, well, well.”
The.
I don’t need to look back to know it’s him.
I crouch lower, digging my fingers deeper into the mud.
“Careful, mutter. “Might sound like you care,”
“I don’t,” he replies, boots squelching closer. “But you’re making it really hard to tell.”
Thear Pierce and Grayson from the background. I think they are arguing about something. They always are and it makes no sense because they used to be good at each other,
“What do you want Theo?”
Theo lets out a low whistle. “Can’t I just talk to you alone?”
We both know that’s not really going to happen,
No one in this little band of exiles ever talks without a <b>reason</b>. Not anymore. Not since we left the <b>pack</b>. Not since we stopped pretending we were anything more than wolves in a temporary truce, sharing warmth just long enough not to freeze.
“You want to talk?” I say, finally standing up. My hands are still coated in mud, but I don’t bother wiping them off. “Fine. Let’s hear what little Theo wants to say<b>.</b><b>” </b>
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