Masuk(Logan’s POV)
The office was quiet, the heavy aftermath of the confrontation still thick in the air. I was sitting on the edge of the desk, still breathing heavily, every nerve ending tingling from the shock of the Alpha’s dominance and the raw, stabilizing release. Damian stood a few feet away, his expression exhausted but centered. He wasn’t looking at me like an asset anymore; he looked at me like a man who was finally ready to carry the weight of a painful truth.
“You’re calm now,” Damian said, his voice low, lacking the sharp edge of command. It was just a statement, heavy with shared experience. “You won the fight against the Bond for a minute, and you paid for it. But you won the focus back. That’s what matters.”
I didn’t argue. I just met his eyes, the gold in them less
(Logan’s POV)We were in the field, not the bunker. The final approach to Julian’s corporate fortress required us to move through the dense, concrete maze of the city's financial district—human territory, brightly lit, and crowded with late-night traffic. The entire area was a massive, sensory overload, and the full moon was a crushing, invisible weight in the sky, only hours away from its peak.Every single nerve ending felt raw, stripped bare. I could hear the grinding of the city’s plumbing beneath the asphalt, the frantic, high-pitched chatter of rodents in the dumpsters two blocks away, and the rapid, frightened pulse of every person who walked past us. The normal human ability to filter out background noise was gone, replaced by the wolf’s terrifying sensitivity.&ldq
(Logan’s POV)The tactical map on the central console glowed, outlining the perimeter of Julian’s corporate tower. Damian and I were geared up, ready to move. We had less than eleven hours before the board's ultimatum and Julian’s exposure threat expired. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and tension, the silence broken only by the low-frequency hum of the bunker's power core.“Marcus’s team moves into the subterranean drainage tunnels in T-minus ten minutes,” Damian was saying, his voice a low, steady rumble of command. “Logan, your job is simple: you create the vertical breach. You use the wolf’s speed to break the initial line of defense. Remember the flow, Mate. You are the unstoppable force. I follow immediately after to secure Julian.”I nodded, the excitement of the hun
(Damian’s POV)The scent of Alex’s terror and the faint, disgusting musk of Julian’s operatives still hung heavy in the command room. It was an insult to my Pack’s defense, a visible wound on my control. Julian didn't just try to abduct her; he sent the message directly to Logan's most primal protective instinct: I can touch the one thing you care about more than vengeance.I watched as the Pack doctor, a stern, quiet wolf named Vera, finished bandaging the deep scratch on Alex’s cheek. Logan was sitting beside his sister, his hand gripped around hers, silent, unmoving, radiating a cold, terrifying stillness. The Mate Bond was no longer just humming; it was vibrating with a clear, resonant frequency of lethal intent. He was ready to kill.But I needed him stabl
(Damian’s POV)The cold reality of the corporate world crashed back in, replacing the desperate heat of the locker room. I was sitting at the central command console, Logan standing rigid just behind my shoulder. He was wearing tactical gear under a simple black jacket, his face a mask of predatory focus, but the Mate Bond was humming with a devastating clarity—a raw, dangerous peace that was both exhilarating and necessary.A high-priority communication signal flashed on the secure line. It was an unscheduled, mandatory video conference from the board of directors. The corporate fallout from the gala photos, the public brawl, and now Logan’s superhuman frenzy on the ice had reached critical mass.“They know this isn’t about hockey anymore,” I murmured to Logan, my voice low. “They smell blood in
(Logan’s POV)The private locker room was a silent sanctuary compared to the roaring chaos of the arena. I ripped off my helmet and threw it against the padded wall. My chest was heaving, not just from the exertion of the game, but from the raw, unleashed power that still surged through my veins. The two goals, the sheer brutality of the hits, the animal satisfaction of dominating Julian’s men—it had all been a devastating, necessary release.The scent of my sweat, the sharp, coppery tang of my own energy, was overwhelming. I was leaning against the cold, metal frame of the bench when the door hissed open.Damian walked in, the cold, focused air of the outside world clinging to him. He checked the seal on the door, then turned, his golden eyes immediately locking onto mine. He was radi
(Logan’s POV)The roar of the crowd was a distant, dull wave of noise. It used to be invigorating; now, it was just background interference. I was standing in the tunnel, my helmet pulled low, the familiar weight of my stick grounding me. The Thunderhawks, Julian Drake’s team, were already skating, their dark jerseys a sickening reminder of the Mirkwood Pack’s creeping influence.This wasn’t a hockey game. This was the final, brutal piece of theater before the kill. Julian thought he was watching his prized pawn—the hockey star—play a meaningless game while the blackmail clock ticked down. He didn't know the player on the ice was the weapon, sharpened by Damian’s control and fueled by ten years of redirected vengeance.Before I skated onto the ice, I glanced up.







