Chapter 70

Logan

The smoke curled around the edges of the rogue camp like fingers crooking to beckon me in. Screams echoed in the distance, though they had begun to taper off with time and distance. Some exclaimed in victory, others in agony as the battle between the Alpha King’s forces and Jesse’s rogues exploded just beyond the hills.

It was chaos, blood and steel raining down on both sides. This bloody business was all part of the plan Alex and I had devised. It began with our surprise attack on the rogues, giving me my chance.

Hidden beneath a tattered hood and worn cloak, I slipped through the perimeter, weaving between abandoned posts and smoldering fire pits down the path Emma had outlined for me nights ago before my first attempt to rescue Evelyn.

Most of Jesse’s warriors were on the front lines, leaving the heart of the camp thinly guarded. Those who remained were scattered and distracted. But this opening wouldn’t last long. I had to move fast.

My boots were silent as I crossed the now-familiar terrain, every step a memory laced with bitterness from the last time I was there. The place stank of ash, sweat, and blood. I clenched my jaw and pressed forward, trying not to think of how Evelyn had been condemned to this hellscape for weeks.

When I reached Evelyn’s tent, my heart stopped. It looked exactly the same as it had when I’d left it last time. It was quiet, dimly lit, and deceptively peaceful. But something was wrong. The bed was not made, and the coals of her fire had long since gone out, as if they had not been used for days.

And then I saw it near the table.

I stepped forward, breath catching.

A wine cask lay on its side, still half-full, a thick stain marring the dirt floor beneath it. The scent hit me instantly. It was faintly sweet, and cloying… and also bitter and wrong. I knelt beside it, rubbed my fingers against the dried spill, and brought it to my nose.

It was immediately recognizable, as some of our scouts had been found drugged with the poison before.

Mal Root.

My fury erupted like fire igniting dry brush. I stood up, vision darkening at the edges, my wolf clawing beneath my skin, ready to rip someone apart.

He’d drugged her.

The tent flap flew open, and I charged into the heart of the camp.

“WHERE IS HE?” I roared, slamming a rogue scout into the nearest post as he lunged at me. It felt good to hurt him, to watch his eyes pop wide with fear.

They came at me one by one, drawn toward her tent by my shout. But I wasn’t in the mood to play fair. My fists broke bones as I split my knuckles on their jaws. My claws tore through armor. Blood sprayed against tents, dirt, and my own face as I continued to rain down punches. They would remember tonight as the night the Alpha came to take back his wife by paying for her freedom in blood.

In my head, it all happened so quickly, though in truth, it could have been a fight that spanned out over many hours. I was so lost in it, so consumed by my rage, I didn’t notice my progress until I looked around and saw all of my opponents curled up on the forest floor.

When they were all unconscious, I was left panting, my chest heaving as I staggered onward toward the hulking tent in the center of camp. Jesse’s tent.

I swiped a hand across my slick face, wiping away blood and sweat as I pushed the tent flap open.

And there she was.

Evelyn lay motionless on a low cot, her dark hair tangled over her face, her skin so pale I could trace all of the blue veins beneath her flesh like tree roots. Her breathing was shallow and weak, the only noise to fill the tent.

And standing over her, like a snake coiled and smug, was him.

Jesse.

He turned when he heard me, the corner of his mouth curling. “You’re getting predictable, brother. How boring”

I didn’t answer. There were no words to adequately describe my fury. So I didn’t think, didn’t speak.

I lunged.

But he was ready for me, eager, even, as he met my snarl with a grin. We crashed into each other, a tangle of fists and snarling rage. This wasn’t like before. It didn’t feel like this was about titles or honor. This was purely personal.

I slammed him into the wooden beam that held the tent up and heard it crack from the impact. He recovered and drove an elbow into my side, then a knee. We traded blows like beasts, two predators having it out. Both of us were bleeding and roaring, all of our loathing having been unleashed.

“You never deserved her,” he spat, wiping blood from his lip. “You never deserved any of it. You’re just a spoiled little boy taking handouts because he thinks they’re owed to him.

“And you’ll never have her,” I growled, grabbing the back of his neck and driving my forehead into his. Our skulls cracked together like two glasses clinking in toast.

He staggered. As he moved about unsteadily, he lost his footing and fell clumsily to his knees.

I didn’t let him recover.

With a vicious right hook, I sent him sprawling across the floor. His head hit the cot frame, and he slumped, unconscious.

Panting, I staggered toward Evelyn. My hands were shaking as I lifted her into my arms, her body too limp, too fragile. She was like a doll, drooping as I lifted her, utterly unaware of the carnage that had happened to help get her out of there.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered against her hair. “You’re safe now.”

I didn’t wait. Already, I couldn’t hear the battle outside the tent anymore. The surviving rogues would be returning any minute.

I bolted from the tent, moving like a ghost through the smoke and confusion. A few rogues tried to stop me, but one look at my blood-soaked face and the woman in my arms sent them scattering. A fire from the outer skirmish gave me enough cover to slip into the forest.

I didn’t stop running until the battle noise had faded entirely, and the trees gave way to the open sky, dimming with evening. Only when the palace was in view, lingering in the distance, did I slow enough to catch my breath. I decided to check on her and settled her pliant body on the soft moss near a small creek.

I brushed the hair from her face, but she didn’t stir from my touch.

“I’ll fix this,” I murmured, more a promise than a hope. “We’re almost at the palace.”

Back to safety. To home. And, selfishly, to me.

For good measure, I pressed two fingers lightly to her wrist, feeling for her pulse. It was faint as butterfly wings against a glass cage. Mal Root wasn’t lethal, but it did a hell of a job pulling people under and keeping them there.

“We’ll get you better. You’ll be home soon,” I promised her. “Come on.”

I scooped her back up into my arms and continued my trek to the palace.