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“They know he’s adopted, if that’s what you mean,” Drew said, frowning slightly. “I haven’t told them about the mate bond thing, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“And his current…” Keir gestured vaguely toward his head, mimicking fox ears.

“They’re shifters, not idiots,” Drew said with another eye roll. “Half of us went through awkward partial shifts during puberty. It’s not exactly shocking.”

“The Blackwoods pride themselves on control,” Logan pointed out. “They might not be as understanding as you think.”

Drew fixed him with a surprisingly serious look. “They’re my friends, Logan. I wouldn’t bring anyone here who might hurt Finn. You know that.”

The sincerity in his voice was impossible to doubt. For all his teasing and sarcasm, Drew was fiercely protective of Finn in his own way. If he vouched for these wolves, there was probably something to it.

“Fine,” Cade conceded, though his mental presence remained cautious. “But we’ll be watching them closely.”

“Duh.” Drew grinned, breaking the tension. “That’s what you do with literally everyone who comes within fifty feet of Finn. I’m surprised you don’t have tracking chips implanted in his clothes.”

Don’t give him ideas, Keir warned through the bond, earning a mental growl from Logan that was not entirely in disagreement.

“I should go check on some security reports,” Logan said abruptly, pushing back from the table.

He made his way to his suite, a sprawling space that occupied the north wing’s first and second floors. The lower level opened into a sitting room that reflected his tactical mindset—rich leather furniture arranged for optimal sight lines to all entries, state-of-the-art security screens discreetly integrated into mahogany panels, and custom weapon displays that married function with the manor’s luxury.

Through reinforced double doors, his private security command center hummed with activity, multiple monitors tracking the estate’s defenses while encrypted communications equipment stood ready. The adjacent weapons room, protected by biometric locks, housed his extensive collection of both modern artillery and ancient weapons, each piece maintained with military precision.

A spiral staircase of steel and aged wood led to his bedroom suite above. Like Cade’s space, it was open concept but with a distinctly different energy. The king-sized bed, centered against the far wall, faced floor-to-ceiling windows with bulletproofglass. Military precision dominated every detail—from the perfectly tucked corners of Egyptian cotton sheets to the tactical gear organized on custom shelving.

The room’s high ceilings accommodated a suspended walkway that connected to his private office, offering a strategic overlook of both the bedroom and the grounds below. The only personal touches softening the space were a few framed photographs of the pack and a collection of rare knives displayed in a custom-built case, each blade telling the story of a different mission or victory.

Even the en suite bathroom reflected his exacting standards—black marble and brushed steel, with a shower large enough for combat training and a soaking tub he’d never admit to using for muscle recovery.

Every inch of the space served dual purposes: luxury befitting a Sinclair alpha and functionality required by the pack’s head of security. It was a perfect reflection of Logan himself—refined power wrapped around a warrior’s core.

Logan sat at his desk, intending to run a quick security check before the movie night, when his eyes fell on the leather-bound sketchbook, one of the many Finn had, sitting beside his laptop. Finn’s sketchbook.

He’d found it on the deck about a week ago, left behind after Finn had spent the afternoon drawing the coastline. Logan had meant to return it immediately, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d brought it to his room “for safekeeping”—a lie he’d told himself while carefully turning the pages.

For seven nights, he’d reopened the book, studying the drawings—particularly the ones of himself. Finn had captured him during training sessions, in moments of concentration, even laughing with his brothers. The sketches revealed a perspective of himself Logan had never seen—powerful but with a gentleness he didn’t recognize. Somehow, Finn saw past his hard exteriorto something underneath that Logan wasn’t sure he wanted acknowledged.

He ran his fingers over a particularly detailed sketch of himself chopping wood, his expression focused but serene. The way Finn had rendered the light, the shadow, the tension in his muscles… it was intimate in a way that made Logan uncomfortable.

“I should return this,” he muttered to himself. “He’s probably looking for it.”

As he picked up the sketchbook, Cade’s voice filled his mind.And this couldn’t wait until morning because…?

He might need it tonight,Logan countered, though they both knew it was a flimsy justification.

Be careful,was all Cade said, his mental tone carrying layers of warning that Logan chose to ignore.

Logan headed toward Finn’s room, telling himself this would be a quick drop-off. Nothing more. Just a courtesy between… brothers.

The word tasted bitter even in his thoughts.

He knocked once, then entered without waiting for a response—a habit formed from years of checking on Finn, making sure he was safe, protected. The room was empty, but the sound of running water from the en suite indicated Finn was in the shower.

Logan hesitated. He should leave the book and go. That would be the sensible thing to do. The right thing.

Instead, he sat on the edge of Finn’s bed, telling himself he’d wait just a minute, just long enough to make sure Finn got the book.

The shower shut off, and Logan tensed, suddenly realizing how this might look—him sitting uninvited in Finn’s bedroom while the kid was naked one room away. He should definitely leave now.