Page 21

SAbrINA

I woke to an empty bed. My heart pounded as I stumbled out of bed, wrapping myself in his discarded shirt before following the sound of his deep voice down the hall.

I found him in his office, shoulders hunched as he spoke in hushed tones on his phone. Sunlight caught in his tousled hair, giving him a golden halo that made my breath catch.

“The environmental assessment team will be here by noon,” he said, not looking up as his fingers drummed against the polished wood desk. “I want full transparency. Soil samples, water testing, everything has to be documented and by the book.”

I leaned against the doorframe, admiring the determined set of his jaw as he issued commands with the easy authority of a man used to being obeyed. But there was something different about him this morning. There was a lightness I’d never seen before.

When he finally ended the call, his eyes found mine, warming instantly. “I’m going to get the mine shut down. Permanently.” The muscle in his jaw ticked. “There’s going to be a town meeting tonight. They deserve to know everything about the contamination, Victoria’s involvement, the cleanup plan.”

I crossed the room without hesitation, sliding my arms around his waist. His skin burned hot beneath my palms, his scent wrapping around me like a physical embrace. The corded muscles of his back tensed, then relaxed under my touch, his body recognizing mine.

“You’re not what they expected, are you?” I murmured against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.

Logan’s chuckle rumbled against my ear. “A Song alpha organizing a community gathering? My grandfather would rise from his grave in protest.”

My fingers traced the scar on his ribs, feeling the ridge of healing tissue beneath my touch. “Good thing I’m not afraid of ghosts.”

The first thing I did when we arrived at the clinic was check up on Marshall. He sat propped against pillows, his skin no longer ashen but flushed with returning health. The silver poisoning had receded from his bloodstream, leaving his eyes clear and alert.

“Well, if it isn’t the alpha and his doctor,” Marshall called, his voice stronger than it had been in days. Other shifters occupied the remaining beds, all showing remarkable improvement.

I checked Marshall’s vitals, satisfaction warming my chest as the numbers confirmed what my eyes told me. The steady beep of monitors provided a reassuring background rhythm as I worked.

“The poison concentration has dropped by sixty percent since yesterday,” I said, updating his chart with steady hands. “Your wolf’s natural healing is taking over.”

“Thanks to you,” Marshall said, then his gaze shifted to Logan. Something unspoken passed between the men.

Logan clasped Marshall’s shoulder, a rare physical acknowledgment that made my heart twist. “This town needs you back on your feet. Don’t rush it.”

Marshall chuckled. “Careful, Song. People might start thinking you actually care.”

Logan’s mouth twitched. “Tell anyone and I’ll deny it.”

As we left, Juniper intercepted us with a knowing smile, her bright eyes sparkling with energy. “The town’s buzzing. Word of the mine closure is spreading faster than my best gossip. They’re setting up in the square already, calling it a celebration.”

Logan stiffened beside me. “A celebration?”

“Of course,” Juniper said, her weathered hands smoothing down her apron. “The poison is contained, the sick are healing. What else would we do but celebrate?”

I felt Logan’s confusion through his tense muscles. The alpha wasn’t used to being the cause of joy rather than pain.

We stepped outside to find the town square of Angel Spring already being transformed. Colorful banners stretched between lampposts, and a stage was being constructed near the courthouse steps. Townspeople nodded respectfully as Logan passed, not cowering in fear, but in acknowledgement.

The transformation wasn’t just in the decorations but in the atmosphere itself. Where fear had once hung like a fog, now a lively buzz of excitement filled the air. Children raced through the streets without their parents calling them back.

A human woman approached hesitantly, offering a paper bag that released the heavenly scent of fresh baked goods. The steam rising from the bag carried notes of cinnamon and butter that made my mouth water.

“For you both,” she said, her eyes downcast but her voice steady. “My son was one of the first you treated at the clinic, Dr.Wu. And Mr.Song—” she faltered, then straightened her spine. “Thank you for putting our safety above profits. Not everyone would.”

Logan accepted the bag with an awkward nod, clearly unprepared for gratitude. As the woman walked away, I bumped his shoulder. “See? Not everyone thinks you’re the big bad wolf.”

The unfamiliar warmth in his eyes made my breath catch. “Only you get to call me that, Doc.”

Evening approached in a blur of preparations. I found Logan in his bedroom, standing before the mirror wearing a dark blue button-up shirt. His fingers fumbled with the top button, an unexpected vulnerability in the gesture.

“Here,” I said, reaching for the collar. “Let me.”

His hands dropped to his sides as I straightened the fabric. The crisp cotton beneath my fingers contrasted with the heat of his skin. This close, I could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, pupils dilating as I worked.

“I’ve never addressed the town like this,” he admitted.

I stood on tiptoe, pressing a kiss to the stubbled edge of his jaw. The scratch of his beard against my lips sent heat spiraling through me. “You’re not just the reclusive billionaire living in a mountain fortress. You’re their protector.” My fingers lingered on his collar. “And mine.”

His eyes darkened as he caught my hand, pressing it flat against his chest where his heart thundered. The steady rhythm beneath my palm belied the controlled expression on his face.

“Always yours.”

The town square buzzed with laughter and music, strands of lanterns crisscrossing overhead as Angel Spring celebrated.

I leaned against Logan’s side, his arm a warm weight around my shoulders as we observed the transformation.

The scent of grilled meat and the smoky scent of Juniper’s herbal bonfire mixed with the crisp mountain air, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to affect everyone present.

The distant peaks caught the last rays of sunset, painted in shades of gold that mirrored the firelight below.

Children darted between adults, their faces painted with wolf markings and mountain flowers, their footsteps creating a percussive beat to the folk music flowing from old speakers. Their shrieks of laughter pierced the night, uninhibited in a way I’d never witnessed in Angel Spring.

“I never thought I’d see this place so alive,” I murmured, feeling the vibration of Logan’s contentment through our bond.

His fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder. “It hasn’t been like this since I moved here,” he admitted. “Maybe not even before.”

The shadows had lifted from Angel Spring, leaving behind a place transformed. Where once suspicion had darkened doorways and windows had stayed shuttered against outsiders, now doors stood open, spilling warmth and light into the street.

Marshall clinked his beer bottle against Logan’s, his color noticeably improved from the last time I saw him. The flush of health had returned to his cheeks, and his movements had regained their shifter grace.

“Never thought I’d see the day Song threw a party,” he teased, gestures looser than I had ever witnessed.

Logan’s grunt lacked its usual edge. “Blame the doctor.” His fingers squeezed my hip, making me grin. “She’s turning us all soft.”

“Not just soft,” Marshall countered, his expression growing serious. “Healthier. The treatment protocol she developed is working faster than anyone expected.”

Heat rose to my cheeks. “The combination therapy was the key. Traditional detoxification methods accelerated by targeted chelation. Juniper’s herbal knowledge was essential.”

“Don’t diminish it,” Logan said firmly. “You isolated the particular compound in the silver ore that was causing the more severe reactions. That’s why the recovery is happening so quickly.”

An older woman I recognized as the town’s librarian approached. She clasped my hands in her weathered ones.

“My grandson is breathing normally for the first time in months,” she said, eyes glistening. “We thought he might never shift again.”

More townspeople gathered, sharing similar stories. My throat tightened as I realized how many lives my research had touched.

Juniper appeared beside us, pressing a steaming mug into my hands. “For the hero,” she announced loudly enough for nearby conversations to pause. “My special blend for those who heal others.”

The bitter taste of medicinal herbs undercut the honey as I took a cautious sip. I wrinkled my nose but drank deeper. “Just doing my job.”

Juniper snorted. “Bullshit. You rewrote the job.” The older woman’s eyes crinkled. “Most doctors would have reported the symptoms and moved on. You saw through to the cause.”

“With yours and Logan’s help,” I insisted, feeling his arm tighten around me.

“With yours,” he countered, the low timbre of his voice sending warmth cascading through me. “Remember our first meeting? You refused to be intimidated. You demanded answers when everyone else accepted the status quo.”

His public acknowledgment of my contribution made pride and love blossom in my chest. All too soon, the town’s mayor gestured for Logan to join him.

The crowd parted as Logan stepped toward the makeshift stage. I felt the absence of his warmth immediately, watching as he climbed onto the platform. Even in this informal setting, his authoritative presence commanded attention. Conversations quieted, faces turned expectantly toward him.

“The mine is sealed,” he said, voice carrying across the square without effort. “The immediate threat to our water and soil has been contained.”