Chapter 2
LOGAN
The ache in my ribs, sharp enough to steal my breath, woke me before dawn.My fingers traced the ridged scar beneath my shirt.It was a permanent reminder of my pack’s betrayal.Though the wound was years old, on some mornings it still felt fresh, like I’d just survived the ambush.I forced myself upright, grimacing at sheets that reeked of wood smoke and dried blood.
The poison still lingered in my system, an unwelcome gift from my own family.On bad days, my veins burned with acid instead of blood as the poison resisted every healing attempt.Shifters weren’t supposed to stay wounded.Our bodies healed everything.Except this.Victoria had made sure of that, using an ancient ingredient known only to Song pack elders.She ensured that I would never forget what betrayal felt like.
Downstairs, pans clattered and Sabrina’s steady breathing grated against my skull.Less than a week after her arrival, she had already conquered my kitchen.The worst part?My wolf perked up at the sound.The beast prowled restlessly beneath my skin, suddenly alert to her presence.This newfound interest in the doctor was unnerving.My wolf had preferred isolation as much as I had since my pack turned on me.This awareness of Sabrina was a warning sign I couldn’t afford to ignore.
The rich aroma of coffee, butter, and grilled meats drifted upward, mingling with lingering smoke from my fireplace.I dressed slowly, each movement deliberate, while my muscles protested.The window reflected a hollow-eyed stranger with shadowed stubble.A man who had spent too many nights fighting ghosts.
I found her at the stove, lifting a steak from a sizzling pan onto a plate.The domesticity of it felt wrong.She shouldn’t fit here.But she did.Today, under a navy blue apron, she wore a pair of light tan slacks with a crisp white button-up shirt.Her hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail, and the only jewelry she wore was a single gold etched bangle.
“I didn’t hire you to fly across the country to become my chef.”
She slid a plate of steak and eggs over easy toward my usual seat at the kitchen counter.“Morning.Brenda had to go into town to pick up more supplies at the grocery store, since you conveniently forgot to tell her I was coming yesterday.Eggs are fresh from Marshall’s hens.”
I grunted, lowering myself carefully into the chair.My side throbbed, but I kept my expression neutral.Her gaze lingered on my stiff movements, sharp and unrelenting.
“You’re favoring your left side,” she observed.
The fork slipped from my fingers, falling to the plate with a clatter.I clenched my jaw as I forced myself to meet her eyes.“I’m fine.”
She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and hip cocked against the granite.The lights caught her stubborn jawline.“Chronic pain worsens with stress.And you, Logan Song, are the walking definition of stressed.”
A growl built in my chest.“Drop it.”
She didn’t blink.“Or what?You’ll glare me to death?”She stepped forward until the scent of fresh soap and her unique sweet musk invaded my space.“Let me help.”
I shoved back so hard the chair scraped the floor.“I didn’t hire you to mother me.”
Her chin lifted, as defiance sparkled in those warm brown eyes.“No, you hired me to fix your town.”A challenge hung between us.“But you’re part of this town, whether you like it or not.”
The words cut like the knife beside my abandoned breakfast.My pulse roared in my ears, drowning everything else.
She didn’t retreat.Didn’t flinch.Just waited, knowing that I was going to break first.
The truth clawed at my chest.I turned toward the door, but the white-hot pain anchored me in place.My nails dug into my palms, then her hand hovered near my elbow, the heat of her so close to me burned like a raging fire.I could have shaken her off.Should have.But for a heartbeat, I leaned into her touch.
Then Victoria’s smirk flashed through my mind, her smug confidence before she gave the orders.The memory of my pack turning on me burned like the poison still coursing through my veins.I jerked away, sharp enough to make Sabrina flinch.
“Enough.”The word came out raw.“I don’t need your help.”
Her brow furrowed.“You’re hurt, Logan.Let me—”
“I said enough.”My voice sliced through the room.I couldn’t risk letting anyone close enough to hurt me again.The fortress I’d built stood for a reason, and I’d be damned if I let it crumble now.Her hand fell, and I forced myself to walk away, each step a battle against the ache threatening to drag me down.
On the deck, I gulped in the icy morning air.The valley stretched below, bathed in dawn light.My valley.My failure.The wolf snarled as my nails dug into the railing.The wood splintered under my grip.
My ears caught the sound of skin across paper before I reached my office.Sabrina stood frozen by the map wall, fingertips hovering over the red pins clustered near the creek.Her brown eyes burned with suspicion.
I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms.Her scent clashed with the typical smoke and whiskey of my solitude.“Find something interesting, Doctor?”
She traced the creek’s path deliberately.“These markers.They’re all downstream from the mine.”Her nail tapped a pin near Marshall’s ranch.“Boone’s place is here.He’s sick, isn’t he?”
“You’re here to treat symptoms, not play detective.”
Sabrina turned, her ponytail swinging.“Symptoms have causes, Logan.”She gestured to the map.“And this looks like a pattern even a first-year med student could spot.”
