Page 19

LOGAN

Rain lashed against the windshield as Sabrina parked the truck in my driveway.

The headlights illuminated the car already there.

It was Juniper. She stepped out with her medicine basket in hand already.

One of my security team must have alerted her.

The elderly healer stood unmoving in the downpour, rain beading on her weathered skin like she barely noticed it.

“You two look like you wrestled the devil himself,” she called as we approached. Her shrewd eyes took in our bloodstained clothes and exhausted faces. Her gaze lingered on the protective I kept Sabrina close, understanding flickering in her ancient eyes.

I kept my arm around Sabrina’s shoulders, leaning on her strength as we climbed the steps. My body screamed in protest with each movement, but having her against me made it bearable. “Vance is dealt with,” I said tersely. “But Victoria isn’t finished.”

Juniper’s mouth tightened, creating a web of lines across her face. “Never expected she would be. Come inside before you bleed all over the ground.”

The warmth of the house enveloped us as we stepped inside.

There was already a low fire burning in the hearth, and he familiar scents of home mixed with the herbal aromas from Juniper’s basket.

Sabrina guided me to the leather couch. My wolf, usually so resistant to being directed, submitted willingly to her care.

“Shirt off,” she ordered, transforming from the rain-soaked woman at my side to the doctor in charge.

Despite the exhaustion etched into the shadows beneath her eyes, her movements were precise as she and Juniper unpacked their medical supplies.

The snap of latex gloves and the clink of metal instruments created a melody that was strangely comforting.

I peeled the ruined shirt away, a hiss escaping through clenched teeth as fabric stuck to drying blood.

The cool air hit my exposed skin, raising goosebumps across my chest and arms. The full extent of my wounds became visible.

Deep gashes sliced across my right side where Vance’s claws had torn through muscle, reopening the old scar. The new wound ran from shoulder to hip.

Juniper whistled low. “That old wound’s been festering for years.” Her fingers hovered over the scar tissue, not quite touching. “Silver poisoning, and not the natural kind either.”

Sabrina’s fingers traced the jagged edges where Vance’s attack had intersected with the old injury.

Her touch was clinical but tender, sending contradictory signals through my pain-fogged brain.

My wolf whined, wanting to press into her healing touch while simultaneously hating the vulnerability. Her concern flowed through the bond.

“This silver contamination,” she murmured, examining the incandescent sheen in the wound. “It’s unlike anything I’ve seen in medical literature.” She leaned closer, her breath warm against my skin. “The molecular structure must be engineered to linger and cause maximum suffering.”

While Juniper prepared herbal compresses, Sabrina cleaned each open wound with meticulous care before stitching them closed.

The antiseptic stung, but I welcomed the pain.

I focused on her face rather than the memories Vance had stirred up.

I watched her work, mesmerized by the competent movement of her hands and the fierce concentration in her eyes.

The wrinkle that formed between her brows when she was thinking deeply had become one of my favorite sights.

Juniper nodded as she packed the herbal compress on the wounds.

It stung at first, before a warm tingling spread through my flesh, numbing the pain.

“The girl’s right. That silver compound wasn’t natural.

Someone designed it specifically for shifters.

” She began to pack up her supplies into her basket.

“I should head back and check on Marshall,” Juniper said, snapping her basket shut.

“You two get some rest. Doctor’s orders, and I don’t just mean hers.

” She cast a meaningful glance between us before disappearing into the night, the front door closing softly behind her.

After Juniper left, silence stretched between us, comfortable yet charged with unspoken emotion.

Sabrina sat beside me, close enough that I felt her warmth but not quite touching.

The fire popped and hissed, golden light flickering across her features.

She looked ethereal in the firelight, a stark contrast to the darkness I’d lived in for so long.

The vibration of my phone broke the moment. Reeve’s message flashed on the screen:

Victoria’s lawyers are scrambling. News leaked about the mine cover-up. We’ve got her on the ropes.

A second followed immediately:

Are you okay? Reports coming in about a shifter fight at the mine.

I exhaled sharply, showing Sabrina the messages. My chest tightened with conflicted emotions. He had never been the enemy, not really, but years of distance stretched between us, filled with unspoken regrets and missed opportunities.

“Your cousin actually concerned,” she observed, studying my expression with those perceptive eyes that seemed to see right through me.

“Reeve was always different,” I admitted, the truth of it settling in my chest. “Not like his mother, not like the rest of the pack.”

Sabrina’s fingers squeezed around mine, her thumb tracing soothing circles against my skin.

“Maybe you shouldn’t shut him out then,” she said softly.

The suggestion hung in the air between us, gentle yet pointed.

Her eyes held mine. “Family isn’t just about blood, Logan.

It’s about who stands with you when it matters.

And right now…” She nodded toward the phone.

“He’s trying to stand with you. Let him help.

You don’t have to face Victoria alone. You have me, and maybe you can have him too. ”

I typed a brief response, confirming I was alive but injured.

Sabrina read my response and squeezed my hand.

“Progress,” she murmured. “She isn’t going to win.

Not against us, not against this town. I’m going to break down that poison molecule by molecule until I understand exactly how to neutralize it. ”

Her determination stunned me. This brilliant, fierce woman who crashed into my life and refused to be intimidated by my walls now stood ready to dismantle the very thing that had defined my existence for years. The wonder of her left me speechless, my wolf howling its approval inside me.

“You’re incredible,” I finally managed, the words inadequate for what I felt.

She smirked, some of her usual sunshine breaking through her exhaustion. “I know. And totally worth keeping around.” Her light tone couldn’t mask the deeper meaning behind her words.

I huffed a laugh that turned into a wince as it pulled at my stitches. Sabrina’s smile softened into concern, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the bandage. “Come on, big bad wolf. You need rest.”

She helped me to the bedroom. The sheets were cool against my overheated skin as I sank onto the mattress. The familiar smells of home enveloped me, now mingled with Sabrina’s sweet scent. As she turned to leave, I caught her wrist, my fingers circling the delicate bones there.

“Stay,” I whispered, vulnerability raw in my voice. The single word held a universe of meaning. Stay tonight, stay tomorrow, stay forever.

She nodded, understanding everything I couldn’t say. As she settled beside me, her head found the uninjured side of my chest. Outside, the storm raged, the wind howling through the trees. Inside, I held Sabrina close, her heartbeat steady against my side, and her warmth seeping into my bones.

Morning light filtered through the bedroom windows when I woke.

I reached across the bed and found empty sheets where Sabrina should have been.

Panic flashed through me, primal and instinctive.

Had she left? Had it all been too much? My wolf surged forward, ready to track her, claim her, bring her back.

Then, I heard movement from my study. Papers rustling, keyboard clicking, the soft beat of her heart, and the whisper of her breathing.

The panic receded, replaced by a different emotion altogether, relief mingled with something dangerously close to happiness.

I followed the sounds, wincing as my stitches pulled against healing skin.

The pain was different now, still agonizing, but without the burning ache that had plagued me for years.

I found her surrounded by medical journals and her laptop open to chemical formulas.

Her hair was piled in a messy bun atop her head.

Reading glasses perched on her nose, giving her an adorably serious look that tugged at something in my chest. A half-empty mug of coffee sat by her elbow, her plum lipstick staining the rim.

The sight of her, so completely at home in my space, sent a possessive rush through me.

“Morning,” I said from the doorway, my voice rough with sleep and emotion.

She looked up, a smile blooming across her face like the sun breaking through clouds.

“Morning, grumpy. I hope you don’t mind.

I commandeered your office for research.

” She gestured to the organized chaos around her.

“I’ve already emailed colleagues for reference materials on silver poisoning treatments.

” Her enthusiasm was palpable, energizing the air around her.

I crossed to her, amazed at her determination.

My fingers skimmed her shoulder, needing to touch her to confirm she was real.

“What’s mine is yours,” I said, voice still husky from sleep.

“Whatever you need to find this antidote, money, equipment, connections, it’s yours.

” The promise came easily, the need to provide for her was a deep-rooted instinct I didn’t bother fighting.

My phone buzzed with a text from Juniper: