Pack Obsession (Love Knot War #3)

Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

CASEY

I find Logan waiting by the back door as I finish my last spoonful of Frosted Flakes. It’s barely seven a.m., and the house is eerily quiet, with no sign of Axel or Nash anywhere.

"Follow me," Logan says firmly, shoulders squared. He’s dressed in khaki pants and a matching deep forest green t-shirt tucked in. His dark brown hair is pushed off his face like he’s run his hands through the longer strands over the top of his head. He leads the way outside, saying over his shoulder, "We’ll start with basic defensive moves."

With the breakfast bowl in the sink, I quickly follow him, thankful I already showered and dressed. I had no idea training would start so soon. Or it could be that I’m not necessarily a morning person and it’s rough getting up this early.

The morning air hits my face, crisp and clean. Beyond the wraparound porch, the backyard opens up into what looks like a professional training ground. A massive metal shed dominates one side, its industrial-sized garage door closed. Training equipment dots the cleared space—weighted dummies, climbing ropes hanging from sturdy branches, and what appears to be a parkour setup with various heights of barriers.

But it’s the contrast that has my attention. Someone has strung fairy lights through the nearby trees. A rustic wooden table with benches sits near a professional-grade BBQ, as though this place can’t decide if it’s a special ops training facility or a cozy mountain retreat.

"What kind of wildlife do you get up here?" I ask, eyeing the dense tree line. The forest stretches endlessly in every direction.

Logan pauses, scanning the woods. "We get black bears, coyotes, and the occasional moose." His mouth quirks slightly. "Axel feeds the raccoons, though I’ve told him not to. Starting to think he’s building a small army of them."

"Sounds safe," I mutter sarcastically.

A low chuckle escapes him, the first real laugh I’ve heard from him. "With me, you’re safe." The words should be reassuring, but there’s something wary about how he says them. Like he’s imagining all the ways he could destroy anything that threatens what he protects.

"Now," he says, moving to the center of the cleared space. "First lesson. Someone grabs you from behind."

I follow him and join him, my stomach doing somersaults. Everything’s happening so fast. Twenty-four hours ago, I was alone, and now I’m living with a pack of strangers, promising to help them with a heist of all things. Me, who’s never even shoplifted candy as a kid. But they’re keeping me safe, giving me shelter, and this is the price. I can figure it out. I have to. Fake it till you make it, right? At least that’s what I keep telling myself, even as doubt gnaws at my insides. Though I consider myself lucky…

My brother, Kai, petitioned the court to become my guardian since he was nineteen when we lost our parents. He won, and I have lived with him since, while he worked. He says that one day, he will find an Omega to settle with. He even promised I could move in with them when that happened if I wanted.

I miss him, but soon I’ll find a way to contact him… hopefully once Nexus and Julian are off my back.

"Watch carefully," Logan says, positioning himself in front of me. The morning sun catches on the silver chain at his neck, drawing my eyes down to where it disappears beneath his top. The fabric stretches across his chest, and I find myself following the muscles underneath the eight-pack abs.

"Eyes are up here, sugar." His voice carries a hint of amusement.

Heat floods my cheeks. "I was just... analyzing potential weak points. You know, for the defense moves."

A smile spreads across his lips, then he lifts his arms slowly.

"An attacker comes in close, one arm here,"—his left hand crosses over his chest to his opposite shoulder—"and the other here." His right arm wraps around his own waist. The movement makes his muscles flex, and I catch myself staring at how his tank top molds to his muscles.

"Most make the mistake of pulling straight forward." He demonstrates, muscles tensing as he shows the instinctive reaction. "That’s what that attacker expects. That’s what gets you hurt." Something flickers in his steel-gray eyes, a memory, maybe, or a warning.

"Instead…" His body shifts, and suddenly, he’s all predator. His knees bend, lowering his frame in one smooth motion. "You drop your weight like you’re sinking into the earth." Then he moves, his right elbow cutting back through the air as his feet pivot, his entire body twisting away from an imaginary attacker. It’s like watching a cobra strike—beautiful and deadly. He turns to me, and there’s something dangerous in his grin that makes my pulse skip. "Simple enough, right, sugar?"

I twist the ends of my hair around my finger, trying to focus on the technique rather than how his muscles flex with each movement.

"If you say so."

He chuckles deeply, the sound echoing around us in the silent woods all while he moves behind me, and my breath wedges in my lungs.

"Your turn. I’ll go slow."

His arms encircle me, firm but careful. The scent of dark chocolate with a hint of cedar wood fills my senses. I fight to keep my voice steady.

"This seems a little hands-on for a first lesson."

"Life isn’t theoretical." His breath stirs the wisps of hair by my ear. "Now, remember what I showed you. Create space, then move."

I try to replicate his movement, but my elbow barely grazes his ribs.

"Again," he says. "Plant your feet wider. Feel the ground beneath you."

I adjust my stance, aware of how his chest presses against my back, of how large he is against me.

This time when I move, I manage to slip partly free, but his reflexes are faster. He counters, spinning me to face him, our faces inches apart as he leans down.

"Better." His steel-gray eyes lock with mine. "But your attacker won’t let go so easily."

"Neither will you, apparently," I quip as my heart hammers against my ribs.

He releases me with a low chuckle. "You’re a quick study. Ready to try again?"

I roll my shoulders, pushing away the lingering warmth of his touch.

"Bring it on."

"Careful what you wish for, sugar." There’s something dangerous in his smile that sends a tingle down my spine, and I’m not entirely sure it’s fear.

Before I can remind my lungs how to work, the heat of him sends electricity zipping across my skin.

"You give it a try now." There’s a playfulness in his tone this time, as if he knows the effect he has over me.

Maybe it’s his smug smile that makes me reckless, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me like I’m a mystery, but I make a rash decision in my mind. The move comes back to me in a flash—my brother taught me some moves on the beach years ago, showing me how to use someone’s height against them. Before I can second-guess myself, I pivot, ducking low for the sweep?—

Before my leg can connect, his hand clamps around my ankle, stopping the momentum cold. Fuck, he’s fast. My balance wavers, and in that split second of vulnerability and losing my balance, his other arm snakes around my waist.

He’s coming down with me.

I feel the ground disappear beneath my feet as he pulls me against his chest, his body already turning in the air.

I cry out.

Time seems to slow—the flex of his muscles against me as we’re both falling over. His shoulder takes the impact first, then his back hits the ground, cradling me against him as we fall. I land sprawled across his chest with an oof , my palms pressed against the solid wall of his torso, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath my hands. His arms are still wrapped around me, one at my waist, the other now curved protectively around my shoulders, and for a moment, I’m surrounded by his warmth.

Our gazes clash. We’re so close. His mouth is just there, his lips pulling into a devious smirk.

Instantly, I roll off him onto my stomach, drawing in my knees. But in one fluid motion, he rolls on top of me, pinning me face-down on the cool grass. My breath catches as his weight settles over me. I gasp as air escapes my lungs.

"Nice try, sugar," he murmurs in my ear. "But your timing needs work."

I try to wriggle free, but he captures my wrists one at a time, gathering them above my head in one large palm. His other hand skims down my arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. The grass is cool against my stomach where my tank top has ridden up, a sharp contrast to the heat of him pressed against my back. To the thickness cradled against my ass, and I swear he’s not even fully hard but so big. Is he grinding against me?

Shit!

"Hard to trust instincts when a trained killer’s trying to crush me," I gasp out, finding it impossible to ignore how his thighs bracket mine, how his chest rumbles against my back when he chuckles.

"If I was..." He shifts his weight slightly, showing how much he’s been holding back, and suddenly I can barely breathe. "You’d know it."

For a moment, the training session feels like something else entirely. His thumb brushes my wrist where he has it pinned, and my pulse jumps beneath his touch.

"You always manhandle your students like this?" I manage to get out, proud that my voice only shakes a little.

"Only the ones who try fancy moves without warning." His lips are close enough to my ear that I feel them curve into a smile. "Where’d you learn that one, sugar? Doesn’t seem like standard self-defense."

"Perhaps I’m just naturally gifted." I try to sound nonchalant, but it’s hard with him pressed against me like this in a position that has arousal spiraling through me. Fuck, my body betrays me because all I can focus on is his hardness, which is wrong. He holds me at his mercy so easily, and I wonder what it would be like if he took me right now, right here?

"Gifted at getting yourself pinned? Not sure that’s the kind of talent you want to advertise."

I wiggle experimentally, but his hold doesn’t budge. "You seem pretty comfortable up there. Getting tired? Need a break, old man?"

His low laugh sends heat pooling in my belly. "Careful, sugar. You’re not in the best position to be mouthing off."

"And what position would that be?" The words come out breathier than I intended.

He shifts slightly, and the friction makes me bite back a gasp. "The vulnerable kind." His voice drops lower, darker. "So tell me, what will you do now? When someone has you on the ground like this, how will you escape?"

I swallow hard, needing to focus on the training and not his body against mine.

"I’m open to suggestions."

"Head back," he murmurs, lips brushing my ear. "Hard and fast. Break their nose if you can. Then,"—his grip on my wrists loosens fractionally—"twist your hips, use their weight against them. But maybe we should wait until?—"

I don’t give him time to finish. I snap my head back, aiming for his face, while trying to twist like he described, but he’s faster—always faster. He jerks his head away just in time. I manage to get partly free, wriggling and twisting onto my back, but he quickly regains control, pressing me back into the grass.

This time, we’re face-to-face.

He’s straddling my hips, staring down at me with a wicked grin. God, he’s huge.

"Fierce little Omega, aren’t you?" There’s approval in his voice and something else that makes my skin tingle. "But you need to work on your timing."

"My timing’s fine." I blow a strand of hair from my face. "You’re just unnaturally quick."

"Years of practice, sugar." His thumb finds my wrist and resumes its maddening circles. "And natural talent."

"You’re pretty comfortable throwing your weight around, aren’t you, Alpha?"

He tenses slightly at the title, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second.

"Only when necessary." He sounds edgy, and perhaps that should worry me, but instead, heat curls in my belly. "And only with those who can handle it."

"Fine, now get off," I say.

"That move," he says after a moment. "Where did you learn it?"

"My brother. He only taught me a few small things." The admission slips out before I can stop it.

His weight shifts slightly, his thighs pressing against me, held tightly in place. "He did well teaching you that, but it needs more honing. The execution has to be perfect, or,"—he demonstrates by tightening his hold again—"this happens."

I wince, hating that he has to prove his point.

Finally, he releases me, rising to his feet. He extends his hand to help me up, but I knock it away, pushing myself up on my own. Our gazes meet, and there’s something like appreciation in his steel-gray irises.

I brush grass from my clothes, pretending my skin isn’t still tingling where he touched me. His stare follows my movements, that same intensity from earlier leaving me breathing heavily. The air feels too thick suddenly. I need a distraction, anything to break this moment before I do something stupid like step closer.

"What were you doing outside last night?" The question tumbles out. "I saw you from the library window."

One of his eyebrows arches. "Some nights..." He looks toward the woods, jaw tight. "Sleep isn’t an option. My mind gets stuck in mission mode. In the hunt. In places I can’t escape. Have to get it out of my system somehow."

"That sounds exhausting."

"I’ve long ago accepted that I’m broken." His eyes meet mine, hard and distant. "Better you focus on training."

"Sure thing, Captain Broody." I force lightness into my voice, trying to break the tension. "Though if we’re focusing purely on training, you should know your left side telegraphs your moves." I have no idea in truth, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He blinks, and I can’t pick his expression, but it’s not joy. Good. "That so?" There’s a dangerous edge to his voice now. "Then let’s try something more challenging. Head into the woods."

"Wait, what?"

"We’re going to do a mock pursuit exercise." His eyes gleam with something predatory. "Let’s see how well you can apply what you’ve learned."

"Are you serious? We barely started, and I don’t?—"

"Ten." He starts counting down, and there’s nothing playful about his expression now. "Nine."

"Logan, this is insane?—"

"Eight."

"God, you really are a psycho." I back toward the tree line, my heart pounding.

"Seven."

I turn and run, cursing under my breath. The woods envelop me in dappled shadows.

The forest is alive with sounds—birds calling, leaves rustling, branches creaking in the wind. I pause, pressing against a thick tree trunk, straining to distinguish any human movement among the natural chorus.

A twig snaps to my right. I whirl left. Another sound behind me… closer now. I spin, arm raised to block, but he’s already there.

Heart’s in my throat.

Logan catches my defensive move easily, using my own momentum to pin me against the rough bark of the tree. His body cages mine, one hand wrapped around my wrist, the other braced at my throat, just firm enough to keep me in place. I clutch his shirt in a fist at his chest.

"Dead," he whispers in my face. "If I was a real threat, you’d be dead."

I’m not thinking about threats or training anymore. I’m thinking about how his body feels pressed against mine, how his gaze has gone dark with something that isn’t just predatory instinct. How the danger rolling off him makes me want to run and stay all at once.

"Maybe I let you catch me," I breathe, not sure why I’m pushing him, playing with fire.

His laugh is low and rough. "No one lets me catch them, kitty. I’m just that good at hunting my prey."

"Kitty?" I arch an eyebrow.

"Mmm." His nose traces along my jaw, and I forget how to breathe. "Small, quick, thinks she’s fiercer than she is, but still just playing at being dangerous."

"Maybe I was wrong earlier," I manage to say. "Maybe you are broken. Who else enjoys terrorizing innocents in the woods?"

He grins, the expression pure predator. "Innocent? We both know better than that." His grip on my wrist tightens fractionally. "I’ve seen how you watch us. How you catalogue exits and weaknesses. Those aren’t innocent instincts."

"And what about how you watch me?"

The question hangs between us, electric and explosive. Hunger blooms in his eyes, along with conflict, as if he’s fighting the same battle I am—attraction versus common sense, desire versus all the reasons this is a bad idea. It seems to be a problem of mine with these Alphas.

"We should head back," he says finally, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t release me. "Sun’s getting higher. Heat will make training harder."

"Is that what we’re doing? Training?"

He releases my throat and brushes a leaf from my hair, the gentle gesture at odds with the tension in his body. Without a word, he steps back suddenly, leaving me cold despite the morning warmth.

"You’ve got enough complication and danger in your life right now without adding me to the mix. I told you, I’m broken."

I rub my wrist where I can still feel his grip, watching him retreat behind his professional mask.

"Bold of you to assume you’re the most dangerous thing in my life right now."

"No." His smile is sharp, humorless. "Bold of you to assume I’m not."

The walk back to the house is silent, charged with everything we’re not saying. With how a simple training session became something so much more intense, leaving me breathless. I catch him watching me when he thinks I’m not looking, his stare heavy and leaving my skin tingling.

When we reach the edge of the backyard, he turns to me. "Same time tomorrow. We’ll work on your tracking skills."

"Going to hunt me through the woods again?"

"Perhaps." For a moment, I see the predator beneath the soldier. "Tomorrow, you hunt me."

My mouth drops open.

He turns and walks deeper into the woods, leaving me to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.

While Axel’s darkness calls to me and Nash’s dominance intimidates me, Logan’s broken edges match my own. And there’s nothing more deadly than finding someone who understands your damage.

I hurry into the house, remembering how my brother would have warned me about men like Logan. Men who wear their damage like armor, who turn their pain into weapons. Men who can protect you or destroy you with equal skill.

But Kai isn’t here to warn me. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to these men. They make me feel as safe as my brother once did, even while they threaten to shatter what’s left of my world.

Tomorrow, I’ll do my best to hunt Logan through these woods and show him I’m not a pushover. But today, I’ll try to forget how right it felt to be his prey.