Chapter 15

( Logan’s POV)

Evelyn’s voice is ice when she looks at Emma. Cold. Controlled. Sharp enough to draw blood without lifting a finger.

“I said get out,” she repeats.

Emma stomps her foot like a child denied a toy. “This is ridiculous! You can’t talk to me like that—”

The guards still hold her tight. The harder she fights, the worse this will be for her.

For me.

“Emma,” I cut in sharply, my voice low but firm.

She turns to me, eyes wide with disbelief, as if she expected me to defend her.

But I’m tired. Tired of the mounting pressure building in my chest since the Mate Ball. Evelyn’s eyes are flat, but I can still feel the storm she’s holding back.

She cannot hide from me, I know her too well for that. Even in this miraculous new skin that she has donned as healer…under it all, she is still Evelyn.

“Apologize,” I tell Emma.

She blinks at me. “What?”

“You were out of line. Apologize first. Then leave.”

Her lips purse, her pride flaring, but she must see I won’t budge. Not this time. This is a gross display of her nature, one that I might’ve liked to have remained concealed. But now, there is no turning back.

She must make the appropriate concessions after the embarrassment she’s caused.

Emma turns toward Evelyn and mutters through clenched teeth, “Sorry, Healer. I was too impulsive earlier.”

Evelyn doesn’t even nod. “The seminar isn’t over. Please wait outside.”

She turns on her heel, her cloak flaring slightly, and returns to the circle of royal healers.

Without missing a beat, she begins discussing advanced treatment combinations for rare wolf blood disorders. The entire room leans into her words. She commands the space—quiet, powerful, effortless.

Now that Evelyn has taken her leave, I step outside the door but don’t wander far.

Instead, I watch Evelyn through the open archway.

Her voice is confident and sure. She explains layers of magic and physiology in a way that makes the most seasoned healers nod with respect.

She demonstrates a healing weave I’ve only ever heard of in theory. Her hands move with precision, fingers glowing faintly with the residue of channelled magic.

This woman—this is not the Evelyn I thought I knew.

At the Mate Ball, she was an echo from my past. Familiar. Soft-spoken. The girl who used to wait for me with stars in her eyes. But this... this version of her is a force of nature. Focused. Brilliant, intimidating, even.

If I’d had a healer like her at the front lines during the Eastern Campaign, I might have lost fewer men.

And gods help me, that realization does something to me.

It shakes me.

When the seminar finally ends, the other healers approach Evelyn with questions and praise. She answers a few, her responses measured and polite, then begins packing up her materials.

Suddenly, Emma brushes past me, her pride still bruised but her curiosity piqued. Though she has no authority and no place here, brazenly she calls after the one healer she’d nearly drained…if not killed outright.

“Evelyn?” she calls out, a bit softer but no less shrill than the moments before.

Evelyn doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look at her until she’s finished sealing a vial of powder and slipping it into a pouch.

Then she rises, her voice cool but professional. “Take this. One spoonful every morning before food. No exceptions. Come back in one week for a follow-up.”

Emma takes the prescription, her face contorted into something between a pout and confusion. I can tell she wants to say more, to needle Evelyn somehow—but for once, she doesn’t.

She just nods and steps aside.

I take my chance and follow Evelyn as she leaves. Emma’s eyes wander after me. I can feel them, but she remains silent, and for that small miracle, I am grateful to the Goddess.

Her footsteps echo down the corridor ahead of me. She’s walking fast, like she wants to get away from all of us.

From me.

“Evelyn,” I call out.

She doesn’t stop.

“Evelyn, wait.”

She finally spins around, her eyes blazing.

“You want something else, Alpha?” Her voice is dripping with disdain.

I flinch at the title. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were? That you were the former Royal Healer? That you were living—like someone else entirely?”

Her laugh is brittle. “What difference would it have made? So you could look at me like I was a threat instead of a shadow?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

I step closer, frustration boiling beneath my skin. “You got close to me, Evelyn. You didn’t just hide your identity—you inserted yourself into my life. My patrols. My camp. What was it all for?”

She looks at me like I’ve slapped her.

“The purpose of my getting close to you,” she says, voice shaking with fury, “was to be tormented. To lie awake every night, waiting for you to come back from patrols without a scratch. To stay up baking those goddamn honey cakes you liked just to see you smile. To choose you, even when you didn’t choose me.”

My mouth goes dry.

She steps forward, eyes burning.

“You think I did all of that with some scheme in mind? Like, I was playing some long game to trap you? I was loving you, Logan. Quietly. Desperately. Willfully. And you—” Her voice cracks. “You didn’t even see me.”

She turns before I can respond.

I should say something—apologize, stop her, explain myself. But I can’t find the words. Not now. Maybe not ever.

I watch her disappear around the corner, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

Damn it.

When I return to the audience chamber, the air is colder. The Alpha King sits stiffly on his throne, his advisors flanking him like stone gargoyles.

“Your Highness,” I say with a respectful bow, slipping into a formal tone.

He regards me with cool indifference. It wasn’t like this yesterday. Something’s changed. Or rather, someone has changed it.

Still, I press on.

“We’ve seen increasing rogue activity along the eastern borders,” I say. “I propose a joint training initiative between our warriors. If we coordinate, we’ll be better prepared.”

The king’s expression doesn’t change. “You want to train your wolves in my territory?”

“With your permission,” I reply evenly.

He leans back. “You’re asking for a lot, Alpha Logan.”

I nod. “And offering double patrol coverage in return.”

His advisors whisper amongst themselves. One of them—an older wolf with deep scars across his cheek—says something too low for me to hear.

The king’s eyes narrow. “Very well. You may bring your pack’s warriors. But only your pack’s. No allies. No outer wolves. And you’ll follow our protocols while here.”

I bow again. “Accepted.”

There’s a long pause before he waves a dismissive hand. “You may go.”

I walk out, but my thoughts aren’t on the joint training or the rogue threat. They’re on Evelyn. On the way, she looked at me, furious, betrayed. On the words she flung like daggers.

I was loving you... And you didn’t even see me.

Outside, Emma waits for the car.

“Well?” she says, slipping her arm through mine. “Was he difficult?”

“No more than expected.”

She leans in closer, voice low. “Evelyn has a reputation, you know. Ambitious. Ruthless. The kind of girl who steps over others to climb higher.”

I tense, my jaw clenching. “She earned her rank. And her skills.”

Emma frowns at my tone but masks it quickly. “I’m just saying... don’t let her fool you. She’s not as sweet as she pretends.”

I stare at the trees lining the road ahead, silent. Of all the adjectives I might’ve used to describe Evelyn, sweet had never occurred to me.

Because here’s the thing—I don’t think Evelyn is pretending anymore.

The girl I once knew has become something more. Stronger. Angrier. More capable than I ever gave her credit for.

And I...

I think I hurt her today.

I don’t know what stings more—that I didn’t see it coming, or that some part of me doesn’t know how to fix it.

As the car begins to roll forward, I glance back toward the palace, but Evelyn’s nowhere in sight.

Just shadows.

And silence.