Chapter 31

Logan

Evelyn's words had burrowed deep into me like thorns. Even hours later, they echoed, fragile, slurred, and trembling in the cold morning air.

No matter how hard I tried to focus on other things, to put her mournful sentiment aside, I couldn’t shake it from my memory. Naturally, I hadn’t slept at all that night.

I told myself she wasn’t talking about me. That she hadn’t meant those words for me. That she’d confused me with someone else in her drunken stupor.

The prince. Her true love.

But the way she clung to me, the way she had looked at me in the darkness… It felt too intimate, too personal. Like something she'd been holding inside for too long, and that she had decided to divulge to me.

But she said something else. She’d spoken of someone who had left her behind. Someone who had promised to protect her. And then she’d mentioned the prince. The one she called the closest bond she'd ever known.

Jealousy was a strange thing. It crept in through cracks you didn’t know you had, spreading like rot. I didn’t want to think of her that way, longing for someone else. Loving someone else. Especially him.

It burned in my chest like wildfire.

I told myself I was being irrational. That whatever bond she had with the prince was old and gone now. I was her husband, after all.

But I couldn’t shake the image of her eyes brimming with tears, whispering about heartbreak and abandonment. And if she had loved him—really loved him—then what did that make me? A passing comfort? A foolish Alpha wasting his time looking after someone already spoken for?

I was still her husband. I shouldn’t have felt so pathetic for wanting my wife.

My thoughts were racing so frantically that I barely heard the knock at my door.

"Alpha," one of the guards said, bowing slightly. "We have a new prisoner. A rogue. He was caught circling the perimeter."

I stood, shoving my guilt and confusion behind the cold, hard mask of duty. "Where is he?"

"Holding chamber. East wing."

Finally, a decent distraction. “Lead the way,” I ordered.

I followed in silence, trying to scrape Evelyn from my thoughts with each step.

The holding room was dimly lit, and the air was thick with sweat and blood. The rogue sat chained to the wall, breathing heavily. His eyes were sharp, calculating, not broken like the others we had captured before him. This one was defiant, and that alone put me on edge.

I stepped inside the room, motioning the guard to stay out. I preferred to question prisoners alone. I needed to put the pressure on them accordingly, and to see their eyes when they answered.

He looked up at me, smiling with blood-stained teeth. My soldiers seemed to have already begun his interrogation; congealed blood was drying on the right side of his face, and his lip was freshly split.

"So you're the famous Alpha,” he chuckled.

I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I pulled up a chair, letting the legs drag across the stone floor with an eerie squeal.

"You were spotted circling our border three nights in a row, according to my soldiers," I said. "Looking for something?"

"Just enjoying the view."

I slammed my fist into the side of his head, my knuckles ringing with the impact. It felt good to take my frustration out, to have a valid channel for it. This first strike was a warning, a reminder that I was capable of violence if he refused to cooperate.

The rogue winced and spat blood at my feet. He must’ve bitten his tongue.

"Try again,” I said.

He chuckled darkly. "You're all so jumpy. Makes me wonder what you're hiding."

"We don't have time for games," I growled. "Who sent you?"

He tilted his head. "Maybe no one. Maybe I just like wandering into enemy territory with nothing but the clothes on my back. As I said earlier, it’s a beautiful view."

I leaned forward, voice low and razor-sharp. "I can make you talk. That punch isn’t the worst I’m capable of, believe me. "

His eyes gleamed. "I'm sure you can use unimaginable tactics. But it won’t matter."

Something in his tone shifted. The arrogance was still there, but it was laced with something colder. Purpose.

"What do you mean it won’t matter?"

He exhaled slowly, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "Because it’s already started."

My blood ran cold.

"What’s started?"

He didn’t answer.

"Who is leading the attacks?" I pressed. "We know they’re coordinated. Someone's organizing the rogues. Who?"

He hesitated. Just for a heartbeat. Then he shrugged, feigning nonchalance, as he said, "He has green eyes."

That made me freeze.

"What did you say?"

The rogue smiled again, but this time it was weaker. Pained. "Piercing green eyes. Like the crispest spring day. Look for them. You’ll see him soon enough, and when you see those eyes, you’ll know your time has come."

Something twisted in my gut.

"A name. Give me a name."

But the rogue's eyes were already glazing over.

He began to shake.

I grabbed him by the collar, pulling him upright. My open palm cracked against the side of his face, trying to bring his attention back to me. "Stay with me. Who is he? What does he want?"

Blood bubbled at his lips; this time, it wasn’t from me. His body convulsed once. Then he went limp.

I almost couldn’t believe it. His gaze was focused on some middle distance in the ceiling.

Dead. Just like that.

I stepped back, my pulse thundering.

No wounds. No sign of poison. No time to react.

He had died too fast. Too precisely.

I called for the healer, but deep down, I already knew what she would say. Some magic had silenced him. Some force stronger than us had ensured he couldn’t speak another word. There was no chance of revival.

A shadowy leader with green eyes. A rogue who knew too much. And a sudden, unnatural death.

Something darker was coming.

I ignored the questions that followed my leaving, guards and soldiers wanting to know what had happened. I had yet to sort through my thoughts to determine that myself.

As I walked back through the halls, my mind raced with questions. Who was the man with green eyes? Could it be someone we knew? Had I seen him before?

And worse: if he was powerful enough to kill a man from miles away, how close was he already?

I thought of Evelyn again, too. Of the previous night, when I had found her in that alley. The bruising grip on her arm. The terror in her eyes.

She had been vulnerable. Scared. Drunk.

And still, she spoke like someone who had already lost everything.

I didn’t know who she meant that night, when she cried about being abandoned. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty now: I couldn’t lose her.

Not to her past. Not to a shadow with green eyes.

Not to the prince.

Whatever was coming, it was bigger than her and me.

But I was going to protect her. She was my wife, after all.

Even if she hated me for it.

Even if her heart already belonged to someone else.

Because despite everything—despite the distance, the silence, the jealousy burning inside me like a second heartbeat—I still wanted to be the one she ran to when the world fell apart.

And as I looked down at the blood still staining my hands, something told me it was about to.