Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
POE
I see Logan leaving the apartment with Cillian trailing behind him, both men rigid with tension as they disappear down the hallway.
Despite my lingering anger at Maya’s manipulation, something twists in my gut.
Logan’s rage has been building all day, his golden eyes hardening each time they landed on her. And now she’s alone.
I wait until their footsteps fade before making my decision.
The apartment is eerily quiet as I approach the master bedroom. The door stands slightly ajar, a slice of light spilling into the darkened hallway. I pause, listening for any movement inside. Nothing.
“Maya?” I call softly, pushing the door open wider.
No answer.
A faint splashing sound from the bathroom draws my attention. I cross the bedroom, noting the elaborate wedding dress crumpled on the floor like discarded tissue paper, crystalline beads scattered across the carpet.
The bathroom door is closed but unlocked. I knock once, then push it open when no response comes.
“Maya, it’s Poe. I just want to check?—“
The words die in my throat.
Maya lies slumped against the bathtub, her body half-submerged in water turned pink with blood. More blood pools on the tile floor beneath her outstretched arm, flowing from deep gashes across both wrists. A broken pair of scissors lies beside her limp hand.
“Fuck!” I lunge forward, dropping to my knees beside her. “Maya!”
Her eyes flutter open, unfocused and glassy. The bandage on her chest is soaked through, both with bathwater and fresh blood. Whatever Logan had done to her, she’d clearly tried to cut it out before turning the blade on her wrists.
“No, no, no,” I mutter, grabbing towels and wrapping them tightly around her slashed wrists. “Stay with me, Maya.”
She tries to push me away, her movements weak and uncoordinated. “Don’t,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “Let me go.”
“Not a chance.” I lift her from the bloodied water, cradling her against my chest. Her skin is cold, too cold, and unnaturally pale. I need to warm her, stop the bleeding, get help…do something.
Her hand weakly catches my wrist as I reach for my comm unit. “No medics,” she pleads, her purple eyes finding mine with sudden clarity. “Logan will know.”
I hesitate, torn between the need to get her proper medical attention and the knowledge that calling for help means exposing what she’s done. If Logan finds out she tried to kill herself after he marked her, there’s no telling what he might do.
“I can handle this,” I say, more to convince myself than her. “But you have to stay with me.”
I carry her to the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed.
Working quickly, I unwrap the soaked towels and examine the wounds.
The cuts are deep but clean, slicing across her wrists rather than along them.
She knew what she was doing. If I’d arrived even minutes later… I don’t want to think about that.
I grab the emergency field kit I keep in my jacket, breaking the seal with my teeth. The liquid suture inside will close the wounds temporarily, but she’s lost a lot of blood.
“This is going to hurt,” I warn, positioning the applicator over the first gash.
Maya doesn’t so much as flinch as I apply the burning compound, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond me.
The synthetic skin forms over the wound, stopping the bleeding instantly.
I repeat the process on her other wrist, working with the efficient precision that’s kept me alive through countless missions.
When I finish with her wrists, I examine the damage to her chest. Through the torn bandage, I can make out the unmistakable shape of the Corellian sigil carved into her flesh. The cuts are shallow but deliberate, the work of someone with a steady hand.
Rage bubbles up inside me, white-hot and consuming. Logan went too far this time. We all did.
“Why did you come back?” Maya’s voice breaks through my thoughts, so soft I almost miss it.
I look up to find her watching me, an inscrutable expression on her face. “What?”
“You knew what I did to you. Setting you up with those women.” Her breathing is shallow, her words slightly slurred. “You should hate me.”
I pause, her question catching me off guard. Why did I come back? Why am I here now, desperately trying to save someone who deliberately put me in a position to be hurt?
“I don’t know,” I admit, carefully applying fresh bandages to her chest. “Maybe because I understand what it’s like to feel trapped. To hurt others because you’re hurting.”
A single tear slides down her temple, disappearing into her damp hair. “Logan will never stop,” she whispers. “He’ll just keep finding new ways to break me.”
“I know.” There’s no point in lying to her now. “But this isn’t the answer.”
Her eyes meet mine, a flicker of the old defiance returning. “Then what is?”
I have no answer for her. How can I, when I’ve spent my entire life serving the very system that’s crushing her?
Maya’s gaze drifts to her bandaged wrists, disappointment evident in her expression. “Why didn’t you let me go?”
Why didn’t I? Because I couldn’t bear to lose you sounds too selfish, too possessive—too much like what Logan would say. Because you deserve better than this feels hollow when I’ve done nothing to actually give that to her.
“Because we need you here.”
She scoffs. “Because of Logan. You don’t want to see your prince dragged into an early grave by a dead bond.”
“No, that’s not the reason at all,” I insist, meaning it. “I’ll never see you bleeding again if I have anything to say about it.”
A bitter laugh escapes her, quickly turning into a cough. “I just wanted to be free of all this. Don’t you ever want that?”
“I know.” I gently brush damp strands of purple hair from her face. “But there has to be another way.”
She looks up at me, her expression suddenly vulnerable. “Did you know what he was planning to do to me?”
I shake my head. “No. I would have stopped it if I could.”
“Would you?” Her voice carries no accusation, just genuine curiosity. “Even knowing what I did to you?”
The question hangs between us, heavy with implications. I think of the trap she set for me, the panic I felt when confronted by my abusers. The violation and helplessness that followed. By all rights, I should hate her for that.
But looking at her now—wounded, broken, driven to such desperation—I can’t find hatred within me. Only a bone-deep sadness for what we’ve all become in this twisted game.
“Yes,” I say finally. “I would have.”
She studies my face, searching for deception. Finding none, she closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them again, there’s something different in her gaze—a spark of the old Maya, the one who fought rather than surrendered.
I express my surprise that Logan didn’t sense her intent to harm herself or the actual injury through the bond.
Something so traumatic should have created ripples he’d feel instantly.
But when I say that out loud, Maya only laughs—a high, shrill sound that makes me flinch. It’s not amusement but something closer to hysteria, her eyes too bright and her mouth stretched in a rictus grin that has nothing to do with joy.
“Sense it? Through the bond?” Her laughter grows wilder, more unhinged. “That would require him to actually feel something beyond his own ego.”
I move toward her cautiously, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Maya, you need to calm down.”
“Calm?” The word breaks on a sob, her laughter dissolving into tears.
“Do you know what the worst part is? He should have felt this, every cut. Like it was happening to him. That is what the bond is supposed to be.” Her tears come faster now, body shaking with the force of them.
The manic energy seems to drain out of her all at once, leaving her slumped against the pillows.
“Maya…” I don’t know what to say, but it feels like I should say something. “Sweetheart…please, stop.”
“The bond only works when it benefits him,” she whispers, eyes unfocused. “It’s a one-way street that only seems to hurt me, like everything else in this place.”
I sit beside her, careful not to touch her but close enough that she can feel my presence. There’s nothing I can say to make this better, no way to explain away what she’s experienced. So I just wait, a silent witness to her pain until the tears finally subside.
When she’s exhausted herself, I carefully tuck the blanket around her and watch her slip into a fitful sleep. Her face is still tear-stained, her breathing uneven even in unconsciousness.
I stand in the darkened room for a long moment, looking down at this broken woman who still found the strength to fight back in the only way she could. The wounds on her wrists are a stark reminder of just how close we came to losing her tonight.
Something is very wrong here. Not just with Maya, not just with Logan, but with all of us. The pack is fracturing, the bonds between us twisting into something unrecognizable. And at the center of it all is a mystery I still can’t unravel.
I need to figure out what the hell is going on. Before we destroy each other completely.
I track Logan through the palace corridors, following at a discreet distance until he takes his position at the command post for the night guard. This tradition of having a high-ranking military officer oversee the changing of the guard has always struck me as theatrical.
We haven’t been at war for nearly a decade, yet we maintain these ceremonies as if enemy forces might storm the gates at any moment.
The guards snap to attention as Logan approaches, their postures stiffening under his scrutiny.
I hang back in the shadows, watching as he barks orders and positions men with practiced efficiency.
Despite everything, I can’t help but admire how naturally command comes to him.
He was born for this—moving pieces on a board, inspiring loyalty through a perfect blend of fear and respect.
Logan has always been a brilliant military commander. His tactical mind saved countless lives during the border conflicts, including mine more than once. The men under his command would follow him into hell without hesitation, their devotion absolute and unwavering.
It’s this same quality that makes him so devastating in his personal life.
The same strategies that win battles work just as effectively in manipulating those closest to him.
I’ve always known this about him, accepted it as part of who he is.
But watching Maya’s lifeblood seep into bathwater has shifted something fundamental in my perspective.
When did I stop seeing the line between necessary authority and cruelty? When did I become complicit in this system that’s crushing her—crushing all of us—under its weight?
Logan catches sight of me and frowns slightly before returning his attention to the guard formation. He’s directing them through maneuvers now, his voice sharp and clear in the night air. The soldiers move with precision, responding to his commands like extensions of his own body.
“You’re relieved for the night, Commander,” he calls out to the officer beside him, dismissing the man with a curt nod before turning to me. “Something urgent, Poe?”
I approach slowly, measuring my steps and my words. “We need to talk about Maya.”
His expression hardens. “What about her?”
“The punishment—“ I begin, but he cuts me off with a sharp gesture.
“Was well-deserved and proportionate to her betrayal.” His voice drops to ensure we aren’t overheard. “She’s lucky I didn’t do worse. Sending that video to the press could have cost me everything.”
“She isn’t handling it well.”
“She’ll adapt.” He turns away, signaling the conversation is over.
But I can’t let this go, not after what I’ve seen. “Logan, listen to me. This isn’t about whether she deserved punishment. It’s about?—“
“Are you questioning my leadership, Poe?” He turns back to me, golden eyes gleaming dangerously in the torchlight. “Because if you believe you’d make a better Alpha for this pack, you’re welcome to challenge me formally.”
A challenge means combat, potentially to the death. We both know I wouldn’t survive a direct confrontation with Logan. He’s stronger, faster, and more ruthless than I am.
“You know that’s not what I’m saying,” I reply carefully. “I’m simply concerned about the stability of our pack.”
“Then trust me to handle my mate as I see fit.” His voice softens slightly, becoming almost reasonable. “Maya needs to understand her place. Once she accepts it, things will improve for everyone.”
I nod slowly, outwardly playing the role he expects of me as the loyal soldier, the unquestioning pack member. But inside, something has shifted. For the first time since pledging myself to Logan’s service, I find myself mentally calculating the odds of successfully challenging him.
Not because I think I could win in direct combat, but because I’m starting to wonder if any price would be too high to stop this spiral of destruction.
I’ve never had these thoughts before. Never considered scenarios where Logan might be wrong, where following him might lead us somewhere I’m not willing to go. The realization is as terrifying as it is liberating.
“Of course,” I say finally, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I’ll leave you to your duties.”
As I walk away, I realize something that surprises me.
I’ve forgiven Maya for what she did to me, for sending me into that trap with Vivienne and Elara.
I understand now that she was doing what any captive animal would do: lashing out with whatever weapons were available, even knowing there was no possibility of escape.
She is just trying to survive in a cage that grows smaller by the day. And in her place, I might have done the same thing.
The question now is what I’m going to do about it.
For the first time, I’m wondering if there are any other choices than blind loyalty or outright rebellion. Because if I have to choose, only one option will allow me to keep living with myself.
Even if it gets me killed.