Page 7

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LOGAN

S he’s not Heraclid, can’t be.

I sat on the rocky ledge overlooking the village, watching as my pack went about their morning. Down below, pups were tumbling in a clearing while elders sat in a loose circle. The familiarity of it all—the life and rhythm of my pack—should have brought me peace. Instead, my thoughts stayed fixed on her , this stranger who made less sense with every passing second.

She didn’t carry the telltale mark of the Heraclids, not like the others I’d seen. Most of them had a strong, dark imprint, bold and unmistakable, right on their arms. Hers… it was barely there. Just a shadowy wisp on her skin. And that scent of hers—it wasn’t like anything from their lands. I scented the Heraclid wolves as stone and ash, like the earth itself had grown tired. But her scent was a pull in itself, light and warm. Alive.

Like it could pull me under if I didn’t watch out.

Maybe she’s not Heraclid .

Maybe she’s something worse.

The thought sank into my mind, cold and unwelcome. A witch? Or worse, a sorceress sent by the Heraclid alpha, someone who could weave spells, trick me into trust only to turn it into a weapon. The Heraclids had always been slippery, and if Grayson had grown desperate enough, he might turn to dark magic. It wouldn’t surprise me.

Dark magic was less powerful on Shadow Moon packs, our power coming from a source different from the other supernaturals who hung around. But it could sting.

Still, compared to the idea of a fated mate…

Fated mates are archaic. Might as well be in Shakespearean times trotting around in tights. Dark magic is a far more likely possibility.

As soon as I thought it, my wolf bristled, anger flaring sharp and fierce.

She’s not magic , my wolf all but snarled. The anger tightened in my chest, a reminder that my instincts, too, rejected that possibility outright. Fated mates or not, I knew when something felt right and true.

If she wasn’t Heraclid and wasn’t magic and couldn’t be my fated mate—what was she? Why was she so close to our borders, and why was I so drawn to her? I pressed a hand to my arm, wishing I could ask Wyatt. He’d always had so many answers. He used to listen to the stories of the old years, memorizing them.

If only he were here now.

I felt the steady thud of my pulse against my temples, remembering the wild way it hammered when I’d first seen her.

I scanned the village again, grounding myself in the lives that trusted me to protect them. But the questions wouldn’t leave me alone. Whoever she was, wherever she came from, I had to find out.

I’d just come down from the ridge when a trio of younger wolves spotted me, darting over with their bows clutched tight, their eyes bright and a little wild with anticipation. They stopped short, each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, one of them, Philip, stepped forward, giving the others a look of encouragement.

“Alpha Logan,” he began, clearing his throat. “Would you, uh… would you show us that technique you’re so good at? The one for hitting a moving target?”

I was about to answer when Alden, my Head of Training, stepped forward with a sharp look, his arms crossed. “Lads, the alpha has better things to do than indulge you with games. We’re here to train, not to waste his time. Show some respect.”

The boys’ excitement faded a little, but I placed a hand on Alden’s shoulder. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Alden,” I said, keeping my tone warm. “But helping the next generation find their strength—showing them what it means to be Orion—that’s time well spent.”

Alden’s shoulders softened, and he gave me a respectful nod before stepping back.

“Alright,” I said, giving each of the boys a nod. “Show me where you’re at.”

They lined up quickly, nervously drawing their bows. Finally, they let their arrows fly toward animal-shaped targets on pulleys, each with a motor that kept them moving. Some arrows thudded wide of the mark, others missed entirely, quivering in the earth .

“Why do we have to learn this anyway?” Philip groaned, his arrow still vibrating in the dirt a good few inches from the target. “It’s so old-fashioned.”

“Because it’s not just about hitting the mark,” I said. “It’s about patience, precision, discipline. Archery teaches you to control yourself before you control anything else. It’s not just a skill. It’s a way of learning who you are.” I pulled an arrow from his quiver, showing him the line of the shaft. “You learn to trust your instincts, to pick your moment. Not every problem can be solved with brute strength.” I looked over at Alden. “Turn up the speed.”

Alden did as I asked, and I demonstrated for the boys.

“Watch the hare-shaped target.” I inhaled deeply. “Sometimes our eyes can fool us, trick us into believing we can’t do it.” I closed my eyes. “And that’s when you trust the sound of your heart. It will offer you the right moment. That is our gift as Orion. Listen to it, and you cannot fail.”

I released the arrow and heard it hit, knowing it had struck right in the hare’s heart before I opened my eyes.

“Wow,” the boys murmured in unison.

Philip looked up, taking it in. He fitted an arrow again, and I kept a steady hand on his shoulder, feeling him relax, his grip easing. “Focus on where you want it to land,” I said, nodding toward the target.

He took a breath, focused on the target, and let the arrow fly. This time it struck the outer edge of the deer. His face lit up, a smile spreading as he looked back at me. “I hit it!”

“You did,” I said, matching his grin. “The rest comes with practice.” I patted his chest. “And you’ll get closer each time. ”

The other boys took their turns, catching Philip’s spark. Alden, still watching, nodded his approval, the boys’ pride rippling out as they exchanged proud grins and challenged each other to hit targets that were even farther out.

“Thank you, Alpha,” Philip said shyly.

I ruffled his hair, chuckling. “Any time. And remember—being Orion is about more than strength. We’re hunters. It’s about knowing when to hold back, and when to go for the kill. Trust your heart.”

I meant it. Our elders had taught us for generations that this ability to hold back was exactly what separated us from the Heraclids who relied solely on pushing through. They were less strategy and more bulldozer. We couldn’t fall into their way of operating or we’d fail for sure.

As it was, I used our skills to mask our numbers. By manipulating our scent when marking the borders, others wouldn’t know we had been so reduced in numbers to what we were. That was one of our last defenses against them.

And even that was at risk now that Alaric had left.

Shadow Moon packs don’t take well to betrayers, so even if Alaric did announce how depleted we were, it would take time for anyone to believe it, if they ever did. Alaric had his own motives, and those alphas would know it. We were safe on our pack lands—for now—but I couldn’t guarantee for how long.

The boys continued their practicing, distracted enough that I could deal with something that had been weighing on me since Rhys told me about the gas infrastructure.

“Alden, can I speak to you for a second?” I said, gesturing for him to move aside.

He followed, brow furrowing. “Of course, Alpha. ”

I spoke quietly, watching the boys still practicing. “I need you to keep an eye on the younger ones. I have to go to the human city.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Seattle? What happened?”

“It’s the utilities,” I replied, brushing past the details. “Something that needs handling. But I don’t like leaving the pack vulnerable, even for a day.”

He nodded, knowing exactly what that meant. “I’ll double our masking scent at the weakest spots. If you’re gone for a day, we shouldn’t need more than that.”

“Still…”

“Listen.” He paused, placing a hand on my shoulder. I’d known Alden since we were pups. “You’ve got the safeguards in place. It’s not like before. Not like with Wyatt and Nash.”

The names struck me, a tension that hadn’t loosened in me since the day we’d lost them. I cut him off, a quick shake of my head. “Promise me you’ll keep an extra eye out.”

He nodded, extending his hand. “You know I will. And I’ll inform Killian and Blair when they’re back from checking the eastern borders.”

My shoulders relaxed. I was alpha, but my team was second to none in this world. Time and again they had proven themselves. Other packs had numbers. We had strategy.

I took his hand, gripping firmly as we both pulled our joined fists to our chests, a silent promise sealed with tradition.

As I adjusted the straps on my pack, readying myself to leave, Elder Raina fell in step beside me, her expression as firm as the mountain itself. She walked slowly but never faltered, her wisdom honed from decades spent watching over Orion with an unbreakable loyalty.

“Off to the city, I hear.”

“Handling business. Utilities,” I replied.

We strolled through the heart of the village, where an unexpected break in the clouds let the sunshine gleam off the window of the common kitchen and the sturdy one-room schoolhouse, already buzzing with activity. A baker pulled fresh loaves from the oven, their warmth spilling into the air as shifters began their morning tasks. Pups dashed by, laughing, barely noticing me as they chased one another toward the river.

Raina gave a faint, knowing smile. “It’s good to see them with that kind of energy,” she said. “When the pack thrives, it’s because of roots planted long before them. The Orion line is strong, Logan. You’re doing more than leading—you’re keeping the roots alive.”

“Orion’s always been more than just a name,” I said, trying not to show how much her words meant to me. “And I’d sooner die than see it fall.”

“Let’s not let it come to that. I know you can—” She tripped, and I caught her by the arm to set her upright.

She turned, regarding me closely, her nostrils flaring. She sniffed the air around me.

“What is that?” she whispered as she continued to inhale, longer and deeper.

I froze, my pulse quickening.

“Something wrong, Elder?”

She didn’t answer at once, her brows drawn together in concentration as she leaned closer. She sniffed again, and her lips pressed into a thin line, a puzzled look crossing her face. “Hmm.” She murmured as though to herself. “It cannot be.”

My pulse spiked, and I kept my expression neutral, even as tension twisted within me. Elder Raina rarely stumbled over her instincts. She always knew, always sensed more than anyone else.

“What is it?” I asked, trying to tune in to what she was feeling. I could have sworn she put a veil over her pack bond on purpose.

For a heartbeat, she seemed to debate saying more, studying me. She shook her head, dismissing it with an unease that remained in her expression. “Perhaps nothing at all,” she said, but I could feel there was more.

The silence that followed was thick, each of us standing firm yet both of us sensing something just out of reach.

And that we didn’t dare tell.

“I haven’t heard of fated mates in generations,” she finally said with a sigh. “Your scent is not what it was, and your heart is beating in someone else’s time.”

Except at that moment, I was sure my heart had stopped .

“But it cannot be.” She patted my arm like I was a pup again. “It cannot be.”