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LOGAN

T he roar of the motorcycle beneath me was usually enough to drown out my thoughts, to channel everything into a sharp sense of focus on the road ahead. Not tonight. My head was swimming, my vision blurring as the rain-slick highway stretched endlessly ahead. The ache in my chest grew stronger with every beat of my heart.

It was as if I had to be physically away from Eve in order to not hurt, but the farther I got from her, the less I was myself.

My wolf growled, irritated, as if he, too, couldn’t make sense of the mess we were in. The bond with Eve burned like a brand.

According to all the stories, fated mates weren’t supposed to feel this way. We were supposed to become something more when we were together. To fulfill our destined future together was to create a connection stronger than titanium—we weren’t supposed to weaken each other .

And yet, here I was, barely holding on.

My hands trembled against the handlebars, and the bike wobbled slightly as I swerved too close to the shoulder. Rhys accelerated in front of me and turned back, his headlight reflecting against the wet road. His hand shot up, signaling for me to pull over.

I gritted my teeth as I slowed the bike to a stop. Rhys parked his bike a few feet ahead and jogged back, his boots crunching on the gravel shoulder as he removed his helmet.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he shouted over the pounding rain, and tapped the helmet on my head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I didn’t answer immediately, trying to pull air into my lungs. My body felt too heavy, like I was carrying double my own weight, and my wolf clawed despite my commanding him to relax.

“Logan,” Rhys said. “Talk to me.”

I ran a hand down my face, the cold rain biting against my skin. “It’s the bond,” I said hoarsely. “Ever since Eve and I started sealing it, I don’t feel like myself. I’m off.”

“Off?” Rhys repeated, his brow furrowing.

I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “It’s pain. It’s like… I don’t know, like something’s tearing me apart from the inside and the outside at once. And yet another part of me is finally at peace in a way I didn’t know possible. It’s an internal battle. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Fuck,” Rhys cursed, running a hand through his wet hair. “You should’ve told me this sooner.”

“What would I have said?” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “That my fated mate is supposed to strengthen me, but I feel like I’m dying instead? That what I knew about us—about this bond, about fated mates, and my own leadership—is unraveling?”

Without warning, he clapped a hand on my shoulder.

The touch burned, not physically, somewhere deeper. My wolf recoiled. A low growl rumbled in my chest as I stepped back.

Rhys didn’t move, his hand still outstretched. “I think it’s the curse,” he said quietly. “I’ve been feeling it for years, Logan. Ever since the twins disappeared. I thought it was just grief, but it’s got to be more than that. A fated mate is supposed to be the best thing that ever happens to you. It could very well be a curse—and one that doesn’t originate with Eve.”

I froze, his words sinking in like a stone. “You believe me?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “You’re my brother, my alpha, my best friend. If you say she’s your fated mate, I’d be an idiot not to believe you. Even if my head gets in the way sometimes... I trust you, Logan.”

Something in me cracked. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. His hand gripped the back of my jacket, his other resting against my shoulder as he held me. The rain, the road, even the fated mate bond—they faded away. It was just us, the remaining two brothers standing together against whatever hell was coming for us.

“Thank you,” I barely managed to say.

“Always, bro.” When we pulled back, he clapped me on the shoulder again, this time with a small grin. “Seriously, if you’re going to drive like that, I’m putting you on the bus. ”

I managed a weak laugh, the sound surprising even myself. “Not a chance.”

“Thought so.” He smirked. “Now let’s get moving. The alphas aren’t going to wait.”

The Rocksmith Café came into view as we rounded a corner, its weathered brick exterior and neon sign glowing faintly through the drizzle. It was the one place I could count on finding rumors with regard to the location of the alpha meeting. The hum of the bike steadied my pulse, but my head still felt like it was caught in a vice. The bond with Eve buzzed faintly, a reminder of the weight I carried, both hers and mine.

Rhys pulled into the parking lot first, killing his engine with a swift flick of his wrist. I followed, parking beside him. As soon as I stepped off the bike and laid eyes on that sign again, I remembered the last time I was here.

Damian.

The cracked asphalt of the parking lot shimmered, momentarily blurring. I could still feel the crunch of his bones under my attack, the searing burn of his claws raking across my ribs. The victory had been inevitable, but it hadn’t felt clean. Not with Eve watching, and a part of me knowing it was the beginning of a new reality.

“Logan,” Rhys said, his voice cutting through the memory. He was watching me carefully. “You good?”

I nodded quickly, happy to shake off the lingering image of Damian’s snarling face, and removing my helmet. “Let’s go. ”

A bell on the café’s door jingled as we stepped inside, the smell of coffee, grease, and supernatural energy hitting me all at once. The place was more crowded than I expected for this time of night. Eyes turned toward us as we entered, some curious, others wary. I squared my shoulders, letting my wolf simmer below the surface as a warning. Rhys stepped in beside me, his own aura self-assured and solid.

“Alpha Logan.” Victory, the waitress, greeted us with a knowing smile. Her red lipstick was as bright as I remembered. “I was wondering if you’d come back. You’re looking…” She cleared her throat. “Well, you’re here.”

Her quip made Rhys snort.

I nodded. “Hi, Victory.”

She motioned toward an empty table in the corner. “Take a seat. First round’s on me. Because I like it when the good guys win.”

I didn’t respond. I caught the slight grin in her expression as she turned away.

Rhys and I took our seats, and almost immediately, the energy of the room pressed in on me. Other supernaturals were scattered throughout the café—witches, orcs, and a few I couldn’t quite place. It was the wolves that unsettled me most. They were sizing me up, measuring me. My mind was too foggy to know the best course of action.

Victory returned quickly with two beers, setting them on the table with a wink. “Enjoy, boys.”

As I reached for my drink, Rhys stood, murmuring, “Do you smell that? I’ll be back in a minute. Gonna ask if there’s been any word about the meeting making the rounds. Something in here smells odd, and I don’t like it.”

I turned my attention to the room, letting my senses stretch out. The low hum of conversation whirred in my ears, but I felt the way the room had changed subtly around me. My wolf stirred uneasily, his instincts sharp despite my own exhaustion.

That’s when I caught it—a scent. Faint, but unmistakable. Wolf . Heraclid.

Rhys followed Victory toward the counter, his hand resting lightly on the bar as he leaned in to speak with her. His nostrils flared, and I wondered if he’d caught the same thing I did. They exchanged a few quiet words, Victory’s brows pulling together in thought before she nodded toward the back of the café.

“Hey, Sable,” Victory called. “Still don’t want anything to eat or drink or make your stay worthwhile in the establishment?”

I followed the direction in which Victory called, and I saw her, the very origin of the Heraclid scent. Every other supernatural had adjusted their seats to be able to watch Rhys and me, but not her. The sandy-haired woman in the rear corner booth was the only one in the café with her back to me. Sable .

She was alone, her posture relaxed but intentional, like she was daring me to notice her. My wolf growled. He knew this wasn’t a mistake. She wanted to act casual and she wanted to be seen. She also wanted me to make the first move.

I leaned back in my chair, my fingers tightening around my beer. Rhys , I said through the bond, my tone enough to make him turn from his conversation.

His eyes followed mine, landing on the woman in the booth. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he returned and took his seat across from me.

“She’s a wolf,” I said, my voice low. “And she knows who I am.”

Rhys’s hand rested lightly on the table. “Yeah,” he said grimly. “And Victory said she’s been hanging around most of the day. She gives me the heebie-jeebies.” His nostrils flared again and his wolf surged.

“You alright?” I asked.

He nodded quickly. “My stomach is turning. There’s something rotten in here. And I think it’s her.”

“She might be here for the meeting.” I stood from the table. “Or operating as a lookout.”

“Logan?” Rhys said slowly. “Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer. My feet were already carrying me toward the table in the corner. Behind me, I heard the scrape of Rhys’s chair as he rose, his instinct to follow kicking in. The sounds of the café dulled to a low murmur. All my senses zeroed in on her.

She sat with her back straight, hands clasped in her lap. Her severe features were sharper in the dim light, high cheekbones casting shadows across her face. Wavy hair, sand-colored with streaks of chestnut, framed her angular jaw. She looked like she’d been sculpted out of stone—perfectly composed, perfectly still. What struck me was the emptiness in front of her. No food, no drink, no indication she was here for anything but waiting.

And she had been waiting.

For me.

Her scent hit me hard as I neared the table, subtle and layered with something acrid. Wolfsbane, maybe, or some other herb meant to mask her true nature. It couldn’t hide everything. Beneath the faint shimmer of artificiality, there it was: Heraclid.

I stopped short of the table, my shadow falling over her. My wolf caught a skip in her heartbeat, the smallest crack in her otherwise stoic demeanor.

“I remember you,” I said, unable to hide my contempt.

I remembered her clearly now—the woman who had stood too close to Damian, her loyalty etched in every rigid line of her body. Her presence then had been a warning. And here she was again, sitting in front of me like she belonged there.

She finally looked up at me, her face nothing but a blank slate.

Her audacity lit my temper and my fists clenched at my sides. Then I saw her stillness wasn’t confidence—it was calculated.

And that skip in her heartbeat told me she wasn’t as unafraid as she wanted me to believe.

My wolf came forward, growling low and feral and wanting revenge for whatever harm she may have caused to Eve. I held him back, my control razor-thin. Behind me, Rhys stepped closer. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the woman. Her every move—or lack thereof—stoked my temper.

“I believe you want to tell me something,” I rasped, barely containing my alpha command.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t want to tell you anything,” she said smoothly. “Least of all that a meeting in the human city would make the perfect bait to keep you far from Heraclid lands. ”

Rhys growled at her and my head snapped in his direction. His wolf was alive in his eyes. Was he sensing something more in her than me?

A trap, then. The meeting, the digital trail, all of it a ploy to lure me away from my pack, my home, and the true gathering of alphas.

Of course they’d want me distracted. A meeting in neutral territory was tradition, a way to level the field, but holding it on Heraclid lands was calculated. A blatant move to ensure I stayed away, chasing shadows in the human city while they consolidated power right under my nose. But they underestimated me.

My wolf, my pack, my blood—we thrived in defiance, and if they thought I’d let their schemes unfold without tearing them apart, they were fools.

Rhys moved first. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, already rushing toward the door. “I can’t stand the smell in here.”

I stayed rooted to the spot. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. If anything, she looked bored, her attention shifting lazily to the surface of the table as if I were no more significant than a fly buzzing nearby.

That wasn’t the truth. I could feel it. Her pulse quickening ever so slightly, her stillness forced. She was hiding something, and I wouldn’t let her.

“What’s your angle?”

She looked up at me, but didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, lips pressing into a tight line as if she’d already decided this conversation was over.

“I’m not here for you,” she said softly, her words barely audible. “In case that makes you feel any better.”

Her cryptic answer made my chest churn uneasily as I turned away. Rhys was already outside, helmet in hand. I glanced back one last time. Sable’s eyes were on the table, her posture deceptively relaxed. Whatever her motive, she wasn’t giving it up.

And it didn’t matter right then, because Rhys and I would spend the night in Seattle before taking the only possible path before us.

Heading straight into the heart of Heraclid territory.