Fucking shot.
“How bad?” Logan asked, heart sinking.
Max met his gaze, expression grim. “He’s not in the best shape, but he’s alive.”
She didn’t add,for now, but Logan heard it in her voice.
He tried to get up, but Max stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Stop. I’ve sent John to check on him—he’s a doctor. You can’t do anything for him in this state. Let me try and fix you, and then you can go to him.”
Logan wanted to roar in frustration, but he couldn’t even do that without passing out. He’d never promised Cole that getting out of London would be easy, butfucking hell. “The tracker?” he whispered, suddenly remembering.
“Found and destroyed,” Max called over her shoulder as she rifled through the bag Tim had brought with him. “And if they’re going to do illegal things like that, we need to get word out for next time. Find some way to check for them before anyone leaves London.”
She carried on talking, but Logan zoned out.
Next time.
There wouldn’t be a next time for him. Tim hadn’t believed a word he’d said from the start, so his pack must have their suspicions about him. And when they found out about this? He was as good as dead.
What about Aaron, though? Maybe he could still go back. If he said Logan attacked him, they’d believe him, probably thinking Logan was capable of anything at this point.
“Aha!” Max held up a small vial in one hand and a syringe in the other. “I think this should do it.”
“Think?” Logan eyed her warily as she came towards him.
“Yes. Stop worrying. Why else would he have it in there?”
She had a point, and by this stage, Logan was willing to try anything to reverse it.
She injected him and he held his breath, willing it to work. Would it be instant? Would it take a while? He counted in his head. One, two, three, four—
His fangs and claws retracted, and Logan could’ve cried in relief. His body began to do its thing, facial bones knitting back together, so Logan lay still and let it work. The sooner he healed, the sooner he could check on Cole.
Please let him be okay.
LOGAN FELT THE blood drain from his face as he got a good look at Cole for the first time in what felt like ages but was, in fact, only a couple hours. Then, he’d looked pale and clammy, but now? Now he looked dead. “Are you sure he’snot...?” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Yes,” John answered as they prepared to carry Cole up the steps and outside. “But if we want to keep him that way, we need to get him somewhere with medical supplies.”
“Not the hospital,” Logan said without thinking.
John rolled his eyes. “Of course not the fucking hospital. It’s not my first time doing this, you know.”
“Sorry.” Logan bit his lip. “You know somewhere we can take him?”
John shared a look with Max as she finished bandaging Cole’s wounds, and she nodded. “It’s the only safe place.” She glanced over her shoulder at a very pale and deathly still Aaron. “For both of them.”
“Where?”
“The Flete Estate,” Max said.
“What’s that?”
Max sighed. “Don’t freak, but it’s the home of the Mothecombe Pack.”
Logan stared at her, unsure he’d just heard correctly.
“Don’t look at me like that. They’re pretty isolated down there, and they don’t subscribe to the new laws.” When Logan still didn’t look convinced, she added. “How do you think we get people out of the country?”
