Chapter One #3
The trees swallowed him fast. The deeper he went, the quieter the world became.
No traffic sounds, no chatter. Just the creak of old branches and the scurry of small animals.
The forest hadn’t changed except for the fact that the trees were a little bit taller now.
The trail that wound into the hills was still marked by the same gnarled roots and shallow dips he had memorized as a boy.
His boots moved over them deftly as if they too remembered the path.
The air was sharper than he remembered, like the land had grown colder since he’d left. Maybe it had. Or maybe it was just him. He didn’t feel like the boy who’d run these paths barefoot in summer. He wasn’t sure who he felt like now, he just knew that he was a different person.
Permanently changed by that awful night.
He slowed near a fallen log and stood still for a moment, staring into the shadows between the trees.
His pulse had started to settle. His thoughts, not so much.
Everything about this place dragged at old wounds like claws raking open stitches.
He wasn’t there for revenge. He wasn’t even sure he was here for justice.
But if he got both then that would suit him just fine.
His wolf had wanted to avenge his parents’ deaths since the night they’d left, and though Logan could barely admit it to himself, he wanted that too, maybe even needed it so that he could finally lay the past to rest.
He crouched and touched the damp ground, dragging his fingers across the soil. He could feel his wolf just under the surface, pacing again, waiting for permission to be let out.
Logan straightened and started to shrug off his jacket, ready to let the shift come over him. But something made him stop.
A shiver.
Not from cold.
From memory.
The trees around him blurred for a moment. The scent of moss and decay was replaced by the phantom tang of blood and fear. He blinked hard, but it didn’t stop the pull. The past was rising up again, stronger this time. It wasn’t done with him yet.
The forest went quiet. Not the natural stillness of a sleeping wilderness, but a dense, pressing hush that filled the space behind his ribs. Like the trees themselves were holding their breath.
He braced his hand on a tree and drew in a deep breath. He tried to blink away the memories, but they were more vivid than ever. He hadn’t let himself relive that night in years. Despite being bigger and stronger now, the wounds were deep, and they festered inside him, never fully healing.
He shook himself irritably. He needed to get it together. He was no longer that scared, scrawny teen. He was a highly skilled, highly trained CIA officer who had been on more missions than he could count…but being back in Bitterroot made him feel seventeen again.
He stood up to his full height, wiping the sweat from his brow that even the cold air couldn’t dispel.
His jacket still hung open from where he had started to undress for the shift. His fingers moved toward the buttons of his shirt, ready to finish what he had started.
And then it hit him.
A scent.
Not pine. Not the damp, earthy weight of the woods. This was something else entirely. Something sweeter. Something soft and wild. Something…complex.
It weaved through the air like smoke, layered with notes Logan couldn’t name. Flowers. Rain. Spice. And heat. The scent wrapped around him like smoke, like silk, sweet and soft, yes, but distinctly wolf. Not just any wolf. His wolf.
It wasn’t familiar, but it didn’t need to be. His body recognized it before his brain did. His wolf froze. All the internal pacing and snarling ceased in an instant.
Logan’s heart stuttered, then slammed into a new rhythm: strong, certain, and absolutely unprepared for what his body was telling him as fact.
Every nerve inside lit up. There was no doubt.
No hesitation. He turned his head, letting his nose follow the scent as it pulled at something deep inside him.
His feet moved on their own, one step, then another, over the forest floor and toward the source.
Branches seemed to still as he passed, and the air thinned around him like the woods themselves were holding their breath.
He crested a rise in the path and stepped between two low-hanging fir branches.
And then he saw her.
Her.
She stood in a clearing bathed in moonlight, her back to him, unaware of his presence.
She was dressed in dark jeans and a deep green sweater, her long red hair falling in soft waves down her back. One hand reached toward a low-growing plant near a tree root, gathering something, maybe. Her movements were fluid, careful. Like she belonged here in a way no one else did.
And that scent, her scent, was all around Logan now, filling his lungs, anchoring his heart.
The wolf rose inside him like a tidal wave.
Mine!
Logan didn’t know her name. He didn’t know her face.
But he knew what she was.
His mate.
Every instinct he had screamed it. Every part of him reacted like he’d been set on fire and soothed in the same breath. He stood frozen at the edge of the clearing, stunned, and breathless.
She turned slightly, like she might have heard something. And then her head tilted. She was listening.
Logan didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He just watched, captivated, shaken, and electrified. His entire world had changed in the span of a breath, and he hadn’t even seen her face yet.