Logan's POV
"Name?"
I stare blankly at the bushy-haired Beta squinting at his tablet like he's never seen me before. "Grant, you know my name. You've known me my entire life."
The moment I stepped onto the Big House grounds, I'd noticed the security line—wolves from our pack checking names, handing out enchanted bracelets, playing bouncer for the Melee. Dad had mentioned it earlier; he got Rowan to compile records of every wolf from the visiting packs. It's to keep rogues out and account for everyone inside. Smart. Annoying as hell, but smart.
Unfortunately, I'm dealing with the 'annoying as hell' part.
I could've avoided this if I'd just stayed here instead of retreating to my penthouse suite after practice. But no, I wasn't ready to downgrade from "visiting my parents" to "living with my parents again." And now I'm paying for it.
Grant glares. I sigh. "Logan Whittaker."
His brows furrow.
I exhale through my nose. "Of Lykandor."
Finally, a grin cracks his face. He taps his tablet, crossing me off the digital list. "Nice of you to join us. Grab an enchanted bracelet from Pell over there and head on in. May the goddess' light smile on you."
I mutter, "Get fucked, Grant."
He just laughs, which—damn it—makes me smile too.
I snag my bracelet, the enchanted metal cool against my wrist, and step into the Big House.
The energy hits me like a wall.
I barely attend Melees in San Diego. It was nice there but the city was too… city. While I played for the shadows, I lived with a branch of Farkasrend or, more formally, the Californian Unified Pack. The state isn't really ideal for our kind and the pack is more of a hub for wolves who work there—a melting pot of transient werewolves. Their Melees were short. Formal. More like a business dinner than a feast.
But this?
This feels like a living, breathing organism.
Drums and lyres thrum from the backyard, their rhythms singing through my bones. Voices rise in song, the old tongue rolling off lips like honey. The air is thick with the scent of roasting meat, boiling corn, spiced wine. My mouth waters before I can stop it.
Children shriek with laughter. Elders argue over a game of throw bones. The sun hasn't even set yet, but the Melee is already in full swing.
Good night to catch that ox.
Fenrir rumbles inside me. 'Weather's great.'
I push through the crowd, into the backyard, and immediately spot my family. Or my family minus my father; Mama, Rowan and Astrid with my niece, Lila.
Mama beams when she sees me, her arms spread wide. "Do my old eyes deceive me? Logan graces us with his presence?"
I wrap her in a hug, her familiar lavender-and-sage scent soothing something raw in my chest. "Mama, your vision is perfect. We all know that."
She pinches my cheek. "Shhh, let me hawk at you for a few seconds. I half thought you wouldn't come."
Not like I could miss this.
"Wouldn't miss this for the world."
Her smile shines brighter than any full moon. "I'm so happy," she grabs my arm and grabs Rowan's. "Look at this. My two boys, all grown and ready to hunt."
Rowan scowls, but there's no real heat in it. Astrid, his wife, snorts, adjusting Lila on her hip. "We'd be lucky if Rowan catches anything."
"Hey!" Rowan protests. "It was just that one time!"
Astrid kisses his cheek as Lila—tiny, fierce, and currently pouting—reaches for me. "Uncle Lolo! Carry me!"
I scoop her up. "Of course, munchkin."
"I'm notta munchkin!" She crosses her arms. "I'm big now!"
I laugh. That's odd. She's never hated me calling her that.
I glance at Astrid, who rolls her eyes. "Rowan told her she might have her first shift tonight."
Lila bounces in my arms. "I'm gonna turn into a big wolf and bite Jeremy Fawns!"
Astrid plucks her from me. "Okay! That's enough out of you, young miss."
Lila whines as Astrid carts her away, Mama following with a chuckle.
Rowan watches them go, his expression softening. "I wish we could have more days like this."
I side-eye him. "Is this about the Melee? Or about that thing you and Dad refuse to talk about?"
It's been gnawing at me since I walked in on that conversation with Captain Steve. Those cryptic warnings. Everyone keeps talking through their teeth, saying cryptic things. Alfred said, 'Times are changing.' Mama said 'Times are changing.' They say it like it's a eulogy. They don't explain.
Rowan sighs. "I want to talk about it. Dad wants us to focus on having fun. I suppose that's a small mercy."
I nudge him. "C'mon. You call me a PAC dog more than usual these days. Even though you used to be my biggest fan."
He snorts. "I came to your little league games to laugh at you."
"Just tell me—"
Rowan opens his mouth, closes it. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. His blue-green eyes, like ocean pebbles, darken. "I can't."
I want to press, but—
Noah's scent hits me like a punch to the gut.
Fenrir snarls, a primal and possessive sound. 'Mate.'
I turn.
Noah walks into the backyard, Oliver perched on his shoulders, giggling as he tugs at his papa's hair. He smells divine, like citrus and pine and… another man.
A growl lodges itself in my throat when I notice the person walking beside him, the one he's currently smiling at.
Kieran.
The doctor who diagnosed me when Fenrir was gone. The one who wouldn't stop flirting with Noah in the examination room. Noah's apparent childhood friend.
Inky black hair slicked back. Steady deep brown eyes locked on Noah. Olive skin glowing in the sunset like it was made just to catch the light.
They look like a picture perfect family; all laughter and easy smiles. Jealousy swims in the pit of my stomach like poison in a pot.
Rowan says, "Logan…"
But I'm already heading over, marching across the grass with my hands clenched at my sides. I just want to… say hi.
Oliver spots me first and lights up. "Guy!"
Noah lifts him off his shoulders, holding the toddler against his hip instead. The sight of Oliver's smile warms something in my chest, makes the jealousy turn to joy. "Hey, Kiddo."
"Logan." Noah greets without any warmth.
The joy turns to sadness. Then Kieran steps between us and I'm right back to jealousy again.
"You must be the doctor," I say like I've never met him before, voice tight.
Kieran doesn't even flinch. "And you must be the ex."
I swallow a growl.
Noah kisses Kieran's cheek, murmuring, "I'm going to say hi to a few people. You think you'll be okay?"
Kieran smiles—like I'm not even here—and taps Oliver's nose. "It's a feast, not a labyrinth."
Noah laughs, and Kieran kisses his forehead. "I'll be fine. Go hobnob. And you—" He tickles under Oliver's chin, making the boy squeal. "—cause your papa as much trouble as you can."
Noah swats Kieran's shoulder and walks away, leaving me alone with the man who's taken my place.
Well. As alone as we can be surrounded by members of our respective packs and then some.
Kieran turns to me, calm as still water. He's just a Beta and I'm taller than him by a few inches. He's… attractive but I'm Logan Whittaker. There's no contest between us. I shouldn't feel intimidated by him but still..
"My name is Kieran," he says calmly. "In case you've forgotten. Doctor Kieran Saleh. How's your shoulder?"
My shoulder is absolutely-fucking-fantastic but I'm not going to tell him that.
My jaw clenches. "Forgive me. Of course I'd love to know the name of the man playing house with my mate and my son."
Kieran's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Better that than play ball with his heart… or sword fight with his best friend's di—"
"Elliot and I didn't do anything," I snap.
"But you wanted to." Kieran tilts his head. "You're a cruel man, Whittaker."
Defensiveness surges. "I made a mistake."
Kieran's laugh is sharp, humorless. "A mistake? Is that what you're calling it? A mistake is forgetting to flip the toilet seat up. A mistake is leaving an egg boiling on the stove." His voice drops. "He told me everything, y'know? You left him at the most vulnerable moment of his life. No goodbye. No explanation. That wasn't a mistake. That was a choice."
The words land like knives.
"I'm going to fix it," I grit out.
Kieran glances toward Noah, who's now talking to my mother. She's beaming at Oliver, cooing over her grandson—the one she barely sees because I drove Noah away.
Kieran's voice is quiet. "I'm not going to stand by and watch you trample his heart again. You like to play games, don't you Whittaker?"
"I don't—"
He doesn't let me finish. "Noah doesn't need a player. He needs someone who'll treat him like the miracle he is."
I'm frozen, gutted.
Kieran walks away, tossing over his shoulder:
"See you around, Whittaker. May the goddess' light shine on you."