Page 25

25

LOGAN

E ve sat close behind me on the bike, her body an extension of my own, and I couldn’t escape. The wind whipped past us, but it couldn’t cut through the heat radiating from her. She held on tight, and it drove me crazy .

Crazy with desire. Crazy with a primal need like I had never felt in my life. Crazy with the craving to lay her down in the leaves and claim her that second.

Every time she shifted slightly, her fingers tightening, my wolf purred in anticipation, clawing at my control. My body betrayed me too, reacting to her nearness in ways that were as instinctual as they were maddening.

I constantly adjusted myself in my seat with a fruitless aim to hide my erection. I tightened my grip on the handlebars, forcing my focus back on the road ahead.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who kidnapped me,” she muttered, her voice low but reaching me over the roar of the bike. My whole being was attuned to her like she was the only thing that mattered.

I didn’t respond. Words felt too dangerous.

My wolf wanted to stop, to turn around and reassure her. I pushed him down. She didn’t want my words—not the ones I could give her. And besides, what was I supposed to say? That I didn’t have a plan? That I was barely holding on?

Her fingers dug into my sides and she sighed, as though my silence was answer enough. She shifted again, brushing against my body in ways that made my control slip, inch by inch, and I was sure every part of me was on fire.

The trees blurred past us, Orion’s towering evergreens rising in the distance like sentinels guarding the edge of the world. My pack. My home. They would already be bracing for my return, trying to prepare for whatever might follow.

And I was arriving with her on my bike.

What the hell would they think when we showed up? Never mind that she was a stranger, a Heraclid—she was the threat I had gone to neutralize. They were going to demand answers I didn’t have.

But leaving her behind? Not a chance. My wolf growled at the thought, his anger sharp and immediate. The idea of her alone, vulnerable, at the mercy of Grayson’s madness… It made me sick.

I’d made my choice the second I untied her from the tree branch. And yet, I couldn’t ignore the gnawing unease coiling in my gut. What if bringing her to Orion was the biggest mistake of my life?

“You know, I would have come with you if you’d asked.” There was a tremor in her tone that betrayed her. She wasn’t angry. She was scared. Of me.

“You’re here. That should be enough,” I replied flatly. It was a pitiful excuse for an answer, but it was all I could give her without unraveling.

Silence stretched between us, and I knew she was weighing my words. My wolf rumbled, urging me to stop, to say something that would ease the tension. I didn’t know how. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to. I had to keep distance between us while I tried to understand the implications of everything that was happening so fast.

Ahead, the trees parted, and the familiar ridges of Orion’s territory came into view. I was almost home, and the woman pressed against my back would be anything but welcome.

The pack was going to lose it.

And yet, as the scent of the evergreens filled my lungs, I was overcome with the sense that all things would fall into place. Not easily, perhaps not peacefully. If the Shadow Moon Goddess brought Eve to me, she must have had her reasons.

I just had to figure out what the fuck they were.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rhys’s voice cut through the room like a whip. He paced in front of me, his boots scuffing against the floorboards of the office. “You brought her here ? To Orion lands ?”

I leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, keeping my face neutral. It was the only way to keep from snapping at him. He wasn’t wrong to question me—not entirely—but I didn’t have the energy to explain myself again.

Not when my attention was drawn elsewhere.

Through the window, I could see Elder Raina standing with Eve in front of the building. Eve’s posture was stiff, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Raina’s calming presence seemed to be doing little to soothe her, even though the elder was speaking in that measured, patient way she had. I caught a glimpse of Eve’s face when she glanced toward the forest—her lips were pressed together, and she was scanning the tree line like she was still trying to find her bearings.

Or plotting her escape.

“She’s not what you think she is,” I said finally.

“Oh, really?” Rhys stopped pacing. “She’s not the Heraclid oracle who might have cursed us into oblivion? The one who grew up under Grayson’s thumb? You think the pack doesn’t know who she is, Logan? They’ve been whispering about it since the moment you crossed the boundary with her.”

I tore my eyes away from the window and met his glare. “I didn’t say they were wrong to wonder. I said she’s not what you think she is .”

Rhys threw up his hands, exasperated. “Then what is she?”

I didn’t answer right away. My gaze drifted back to Eve, and I watched as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. The afternoon light caught the curve of her profile, the faint bruises along her jaw, and my wolf snarled. She was too thin. Too pale. Too broken .

My mate.

“She’s not our enemy,” I said finally. My tone was sharper than I’d intended, but it got Rhys’s attention.

He let out a tense sigh. “And how do you know that? Did she give you a detailed resume while you were dragging her through the woods? Or are you going on instinct? Because, Logan, instinct alone is how you end up dead in situations like this.”

“ Enough .” The alpha command erupted from me. I never liked to use that tone with Rhys, but he was crossing a line.

Rhys blinked. And—thankfully—shut up.

“She may be a risk,” I said, “but not in the way you think. She’s a key.”

“To what?” Rhys asked earnestly, calm now. “To us surviving? Or to us finally falling apart?”

I didn’t answer, because I had no answer. All I knew was that she didn’t belong in Heraclid hands.

And I couldn’t let her go.