Chapter 21 Logan
LOGAN
Ihate meetings. Always have, always will. Sitting around talking instead of fixing problems is a waste of time. But when Xavier calls an emergency pack meeting using his "medical professional with serious concerns" voice, you show up.
Xavier's office wasn't designed for six alphas. The space barely fits his desk, two chairs, and medical equipment. With all of us crammed in here, the air is thick with competing scents and tension that makes my shoulders bunch with the need to claim more space.
I take the chair closest to the door, my back straight and feet planted firmly on the floor.
Griff slouches against the wall near the window, arms crossed over his chest, one ankle hooked over the other like he's trying to look casual but his jaw is tight with irritation.
Dax drops heavily into the other chair, still in his veterinary scrubs, his hands clasped loosely between his knees but his posture screams exhaustion.
Derek of the Blackwater Pack leans against the medical cabinet, his broad frame taking up too much space in the cramped room.
His arms are folded across his chest, and he keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
His scent carries cement dust and irritation.
Ryan, the other member, claims the space near Xavier's diploma wall, checking his phone every thirty seconds with sharp, jerky movements that broadcast his impatience.
Xavier sits behind his desk wearing his usual charcoal slacks and blue shirt, his hands folded carefully on the desk surface. His mint scent carries determination mixed with barely controlled panic, and I notice the way his knuckles are white with tension.
"Thank you all for coming," Xavier begins, his voice steady despite the nervous energy radiating from his rigid posture.
"Is someone dying?" Dax asks bluntly, leaning forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees. "Because if this is about wedding planning, I've got three emergency surgeries tomorrow."
"No one is dying," Xavier replies, though his fingers drum once against the desk before he catches himself.
"But we have just under two months until your wedding, and everything that can go wrong is going wrong.
We have a frustrated omega at home who's ready to quit, and a bride who may run away if we don't get our act together. "
Griff straightens up abruptly, pushing off the wall with his shoulders. "What do you mean, ready to quit? Savannah's not a quitter."
"Savannah agreed to organize a simple wedding, not manage a disaster caused by pack members who can't handle basic responsibilities.
" Xavier's voice carries an edge, and his hands clench briefly before he forces them flat against the desk.
"She's been cleaning up everyone's messes, handling vendor crises alone, and dealing with territorial behavior from pack members who think living in the same house gives them ownership rights. "
His eyes find mine and hold, and I feel my jaw tighten involuntarily. The marking incident. I shift in my chair, my hands gripping the armrests harder than necessary.
"It's just a wedding," Derek interrupts with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Flowers, cake, some guy talking about love. Done."
"That's what we thought too," Ryan adds, finally looking up from his phone with a shrug. "Emma said she wanted something simple."
Xavier adjusts his glasses with precise movements, a tell I've learned means he's about to deliver bad news. "The guest list is currently at nine hundred and seventy-three people."
The silence that follows is deafening. I feel my eyebrows climb toward my hairline while Griff's mouth actually falls open. Dax sits back so hard his chair creaks. Derek's arms drop to his sides like someone cut his strings, and Ryan's phone nearly slips from his suddenly slack fingers.
"I'm sorry," Griff says slowly, running both hands through his sandy hair until it sticks up in wild spikes. "Did you just say almost a thousand people?"
"Nine hundred and seventy-three confirmed guests as of this afternoon," Xavier confirms, consulting his notebook with methodical precision.
"Dax's extended family, Emma's college friends, your family and friends, professional contacts, and pack affiliations.
The guest list exceeds the capacity of every available venue in Pine Hollow. "
"What happened to a simple wedding?" Dax demands, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs.
"Emma wanted something simple. But she also didn't want to hurt feelings." Xavier's shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “Besides, how come you don’t know how many people are invited to your own wedding?”
He avoids eye contact, which means that he hasn’t been attentive at all.
"So we're feeding almost a thousand people in seven weeks,” Derek says flatly, pushing off the medical cabinet to pace the small space between the wall and Dax's chair. "That's disaster management."
"There is no venue in Pine Hollow that can accommodate nine hundred and seventy-three guests," Xavier continues, his finger tracing down his notes. "The largest space is the community center, which maxes out at three hundred."
Griff starts pacing too, moving from the window to the door in three short steps before turning and repeating the pattern. "What about the high school gymnasium?"
"Booked for graduation rehearsals," Xavier says without looking up.
"The church fellowship hall?" Derek asks, stopping mid-pace to face Xavier.
"Two hundred person maximum, no alcohol," Dax says, rubbing his temples with the heels of his palms.
"The fairgrounds?" Derek tries again, his voice carrying less hope.
"No indoor facilities, seventy percent chance of rain," Xavier replies, finally looking up from his notes with the expression of a doctor delivering a terminal diagnosis.
This is why I hate meetings. Everyone talking about problems, no one offering solutions.
"So we've got almost a thousand people expecting a wedding in seven weeks, no venue, and an event planner ready to walk," I say, cutting through the circular conversation.
"Accurate summary," Xavier confirms.
"And Emma?"
"Emma is convinced her wedding will be a disaster and she should have eloped to Vegas."
"Fuck," Dax mutters.
"Actually," Xavier says, leaning forward with renewed energy, "there is a venue. We've just been thinking too small."
"What do you mean?" Dax asks, sitting up straighter.
"The old Snowpeak Resort."
Snowpeak. Haven't thought about that place in years. The old ski resort thirty minutes out, closed down after bankruptcy. Last time I drove past, the main lodge looked like a horror movie.
"Snowpeak's been abandoned for eight years," Derek points out. "The place is a wreck."
"The main lodge is structurally sound," Xavier continues with growing conviction. "I've reviewed the property records and inspection reports. The building can accommodate up to twelve hundred people, with adequate parking."
"It's also condemned with no power, no water, and enough health code violations to shut down the county," Ryan adds.
"Which is where Griff's expertise becomes invaluable," Xavier says, turning toward our pack's construction expert. "With proper planning and coordinated effort, we could have the main lodge operational in just under a month.”
Griff straightens like someone offered him the chance to build the Pyramids. "A month? Xavier, that place needs major restoration. Electrical, plumbing, structural repairs—we're talking months."
"We don't need months of renovation. We need one month of focused effort to make it safe and functional for a single event." Xavier's voice carries persuasive authority. "Temporary power, basic plumbing restoration, structural safety assessment, cosmetic improvements."
"That's still massive," Derek says, but I can hear interest creeping into his voice.
"Massive undertakings require coordinated teams and proper resource allocation," Xavier replies. "Which is why we need both packs working together."
"You're talking about a lot of work in a short timeframe," Dax points out. "Permits, inspections, licenses—"
"I can handle permitting," Griff interrupts, his excitement building. "I've got connections with the county. Emergency event permits can be fast-tracked."
"Electrical work alone would take weeks, not one,” Derek adds. "That building's been without power for years."
"Not rewired, just restored to basic functionality," Griff corrects. "Temporary electrical for lighting and appliances. We're not building a permanent installation, just making sure people don't trip in the dark."
Ryan looks up from his phone with genuine interest. "Catering for almost a thousand would require industrial kitchen facilities."
"The main lodge has a commercial kitchen designed for resort guests," Xavier confirms. "With proper cleaning and basic equipment restoration, it should be adequate."
"Should be adequate isn't exactly a guarantee," I point out.
"Nothing about this situation comes with guarantees," Xavier replies. "But the alternative is telling Emma her wedding is impossible."
Before anyone can respond, Xavier's phone buzzes with the distinctive ringtone he uses for hospital emergencies. He glances at the screen and his expression immediately shifts into crisis mode.
"I need to take this," he says, already reaching for the phone. "Dr. Blackwell."
The conversation that follows is conducted in medical shorthand that tells us someone's having a very bad night. Xavier's voice remains calm and clinical, but his scent carries the sharp focus he gets when lives are on the line.
"...need to stabilize before transport...yes, I'll be there in fifteen minutes...prep OR 2 and call in the surgical team..."
He hangs up and starts gathering his things with efficient movements. "I have to get to the hospital. Can you all continue this discussion without me for a while?"
"Go," Dax says immediately. "We'll figure this out."