“Good night, then,” I say, stumbling slightly over the words. “Or good morning, I mean. I assume you’re headed to bed.”
Logan doesn’t try to stop me as I turn to leave, but his voice follows me to the doorway. “I hope you’re not just trying to find a distraction from the decision you need to make.”
I turn back to him, that familiar anger he always manages to trigger rising in me. “Cillian isn’t a distraction.”
“Then that means you know what you want to do?”
The question stops me cold. In all the emotional turmoil of the night, I’d almost let myself forget the larger decision hanging over us. Stay and fight, or run and hide. Challenge the king or flee Melilla entirely.
I glare at him, “Why would you put this decision on my shoulders in the first place?”
Logan seems surprised that I haven’t figured it out for myself. “Poe wants to fight. Ares wants us to protect ourselves. Cillian will follow where I lead.” He pauses, his golden eyes holding mine. “In my opinion, we’re likely doomed no matter what we decide, so I’m leaving it up to you to cast the deciding vote.”
I point out what seems obvious. “You haven’t said what you want.”
“I want to live in a world that doesn’t exist.
“But you would stay and fight, if we asked.”
He looks at me as if surprised I even have to ask. “Of course.”
For the first time, I realize something about Logan that I hadn’t seen before. When Ares told me Logan had the makings of a true king, I’d scoffed at the idea. But now I can see it—the way he just decided, without drama or fanfare, that he will helm a cause he believes is lost if that’s what his pack asks of him. Without regret, without restraint, without apparent fear.
It would be enough to make me admire him if he were anyone else.
“Cillian told me you wanted me before we ever met,” I say, the words coming out before I can stop them. “I want to know why.”
Logan’s smile is humorless. “If we survive this, one day I’ll tell you.”
“I’ll have your answer soon,” I say, the decision forming even as I speak the words. “About what we’re going to do next.”
Logan nods once before turning away, bringing the nearly empty glass to his lips.
CHAPTER 14
Logan
I take a long sip of whiskey, letting the burn coat my throat. The amber liquid catches what little light filters through the curtains, glinting like trapped fire in the glass. Maya’s footsteps fade down the hallway, but her scent lingers.
I have to force myself not to chase after her.
“You can come out now, Poe,” I say as I sink back into my chair.
A shadow detaches itself from the corner of the room, Poe’s lean form slowly revealed as he steps fully into the light. His dark eyes reveal nothing as he moves to stand beside my chair
“How long were you there?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Long enough,” Poe replies, his voice carefully neutral. “Did you mean any of that?”
I swirl the remaining whiskey in my glass, watching the light play across its surface. The question is loaded, heavy with implications and judgment. Did I mean what I said to Maya? About following where she leads, even if it means throwing myself to the wolves?
About ceding control over her to thisarrangementwith Cillian?
The darkness inside me—the part I’ve spent a lifetime controlling, containing, denying—stirs at the question. It’s never felt more dangerous than it does now, when I’m outwardly at my most calm. The contrast is jarring, measured words coming from my mouth while something primal and possessive rages beneath my skin, demanding I claim what’s mine.
“Does it matter?” I ask instead of answering directly.
Poe’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel the shift in his posture—the subtle tensing that signals his growing impatience with my evasions.
