CHAPTER 6

I stiffened, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "If I’m not Madison Lawson, who exactly do you think is standing in front of you? That’s a ridiculous thing to say," I forced out, trying to lace my voice with her trademarked shallow flippancy.

Inside, I was screaming. If he realized I was the "defective" replacement, the deal would collapse. Evelyn would pull the credits from Bayview Medical Center, and Ruth would die in that sterile hospital bed before the sun peaked over the Citadel. I had to play the part of the spoiled sister, even if it felt like swallowing glass.

Logan’s brow furrowed. I could feel his predatory instincts gnawing at the edges of my lie. He’d probably been told that the Lawson heiress was a vain, scent-obsessed socialite who spent her days draining the pack’s coffers and her nights in the beds of high-ranking Alphas.

He’d likely dressed in these rags and brought me to this crumbling Harbor View apartment as a test—expecting me to throw a tantrum, demand a divorce, and flee back to my father’s estate. But here I was, settling into the dust and the quiet without a single complaint.

"Just a thought. Forget it," he said, the intensity in his eyes fading into a cool, detached mask. He tossed his jacket onto the table and stepped back. "I’ve said my piece. Anything you want to add to the rules of this 'den'?"

"No," I whispered, my relief nearly sagging my knees.

I looked around the cramped space. One bedroom. One sagging, narrow sofa in the common area. A cold realization washed over me. The bed. Logan caught my gaze darting toward the bedroom door. He knew exactly what was spiraling through my head. He unbuttoned his cuffs with a slow, deliberate grace that didn't match his "gutter-wolf" persona.

"There’s only one mattress in this hole," he said casually. "I’ll take the sofa tonight. You take the room."

I blinked, stunned. Can he read my mind? Part of me wanted to sag with gratitude, but the "Madison" mask required a different reaction. I feigned a look of offended embarrassment. "Is that really how we're starting this? It’s our first night bound. It’ll look suspicious if the neighbors hear you snoring in the kitchen. Besides, look at you. You’re built like a mountain. You’ll snap that sofa in half by midnight."

"It’s definitely going to be a nightmare for my back," Logan murmured, suddenly stepping closer. The air between us vanished. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, searing heat. "But since there's only one bed... if I want to be comfortable, I suppose I’ll just have to share it with you."

"I... you misunderstood. That’s not what I meant," I stammered. My face felt like it was on fire. I tried to back away, but the heavy wooden table caught me at the waist. I was trapped.

Just as I was about to lose my balance and hit the sharp corner, Logan’s arm shot out, wrapping around my waist and pulling me flush against his hard, warm chest.

"Then what did you mean, Brooke?" he asked, his voice a low, playful rumble.

My heart wasn't just pounding; it was trying to leap out of my throat. I could feel his breath—warm and smelling of dark coffee—brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck. My body, usually so silent and wolfless, hummed with a strange, terrifying electricity.

"I just want to sleep alone!" I managed to choke out. "You said this was just a contract! A nominal mating!"

"Well, I’m an Alpha. I can change my mind. Consummating the bond seems like a very traditional way to spend the evening. Especially since you’re so worried about my comfort." He reached up, his thumb grazing my jawline before he tucked a stray hair behind my ear.

"No! Absolutely not!" I hissed, my face turning a shade of red that probably made me look like an angry kit.

"If you say so," he said indifferently, releasing my waist. "But try to be less inviting next time you suggest a man join you in the bedroom."

I didn't wait for another word. I turned and bolted into the bedroom, slamming the heavy oak door and throwing the iron bolt home. I heard his low, deep chuckle vibrate through the wood.

I leaned against the door, gasping for air, my skin tingling where he had touched me. My heart wouldn't slow down. I looked at the bedside table and gripped a heavy iron lamp. If he tries to come through that door, I’ll crack his skull.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the handle until the moon climbed high over the mist-shrouded ruins. I didn't fall asleep until my eyes physically refused to stay open, the scent of him still clinging to my senses.