Chapter 20
(Logan’s POV)
I’m still standing in Evelyn’s old room, frozen between time and memories, no longer dressed in the suit she crafted with the love I didn’t deserve.
The fabric is smooth, almost silky, with sharp lines and tailored precision that hugs my frame. It was sculpted just for me. Now, it lies dead in my arms, like a black void.
I never knew.
I didn’t care.
The scent of her still lingers faintly in this room, a mix of lavender and chamomile.
It hits me hard, a punch to the chest. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the burn that gathers behind them.
Damn it.
Why now?
Why am I only realizing what she meant to me when she's already slipping through my fingers?
I barely hear the soft knock on the door before Emma walks in without waiting for a response.
“What are you doing in Evelyn’s room?” she asks, trying to sound casual. But I catch the tightening around her mouth, the twitch in her forehead. She’s trying to play it cool, but her eyes are glued to the suit on my body like it’s poison.
“Just getting something she left behind.”
Emma’s voice sharpens. “Was that a gift from her?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “Is there a problem with that?”
She forces a tight smile, masking something ugly behind her eyes.
“No… At least she didn’t treat you badly, right?” Her voice has that sugary edge I’ve come to dread. It's the same tone she uses when she wants to sound understanding, but really means something venomous.
I don’t answer. I push past her and take the suit to my own room. I place it on the dresser, smoothing the fabric one last time before walking out to get some work done.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of meetings and logistics, my mind only half present. Strangely enough, that blasted suit, that perfectly intricate suit, is the only thing that is on my mind.
When I return, the pack house is quiet. The servants have taken their leave and but something feels wrong.
I head to my room and pause at the threshold. The house is still, quiet. As if any living creature within a five-mile radius had just disappeared.
The box is gone.
Panic claws at my gut. I tear through the room, pulling open drawers, closets—nothing.
“Servants!” I bellow down the hall.
A few scramble in, pale and jittery. “Yes…Yes, Alpha, how can we serve?”
“Find the gift box that was on my dresser. Now.” I growl, teeth barred.
They scatter.
Minutes later, a trembling maid returns with the box in her arms.
It’s mangled. Torn. The edges of the lid are crushed in, and inside, my breath catches—the suit is shredded. Fabric hangs in limp ribbons. Threads spill out like blood from a wound.
I clench my fists, fury boiling over.
“Who did this?” I demand. But they remain silent. They are terrified. They should be.
Everyone should be.
No answer. I already know.
I storm to Emma’s room, throw open the door. She’s lounging on a chaise, flipping through a magazine like nothing’s wrong.
“Who did this, Emma?” I snarl.
She barely glances up. “Did what Logan?” she scoffs, incredulous at my implied accusations.
“The suit Evelyn made. It’s destroyed!”
My rage thunders throughout the room.
But Emma only shrugs. “How should I know?”
My voice drops to a dangerous calm. “Should I call all the servants and ask them one by one?”
Emma slams her magazine down.
“Why do you even care about something that cheap bitch gave you?” Her voice cracks with jealousy and something deeper—hatred, maybe. She’s not even trying to hide it anymore.
I take a step back, disgust rising in my throat. “You had no right.”
“She doesn’t love you!” Emma screams, suddenly on her feet. “She was just pretending. She was never yours. Not really. She’s with the prince now, laughing behind your back!”
Her words hit like daggers, but I don’t flinch. I don’t give her the satisfaction.
I turn on my heel and walk out.
The moment I’m alone, the migraine starts to build behind my eyes.
I head to the medicine cabinet, fingers shaking slightly as I reach for the vial. But the scent is wrong. The mix is too sharp.
Evelyn used to make it smoother, always checking the balance of herbs to ease the side effects.
Everything is off without her.
The next morning, I take the remnants of the suit to the best tailor in the city. Maybe—just maybe—it can be saved.
The old man peers at it, frowning as he turns over the torn fabric. “This was handmade,” he mutters, running his fingers over the stitches. “No machine could do this. That’s rare these days.”
“Can it be fixed?”
He looks up at me, eyes sad. “It’s been destroyed, Alpha. I’m sorry. This kind of handwork… It’s irreplaceable.”
I thank him, but the words mean nothing. I walk out with the broken pieces in a bag, a hollow ache in my chest.
That night, I stare out over the training grounds from my office window, jaw tight. Evelyn’s words keep replaying in my head—I waited up for you all night. I gave you everything.
And I gave her nothing but silence.
Cruelty…malice, contempt.
I call a meeting with the Gamma warriors. “We’re going to Evelyn’s territory,” I announce.
The members exchange looks. They are confused. “I thought the King permitted joint operations as long as you…”
A young wolf spoke out. He was timid, but still he objected.
I admired his courage.
I nod. “He is now. And I want to ensure we make a good impression.”
It was a half-truth, but they didn’t need to know.
The rest? The truth?
I need to see her again. I need to know if she’s really moved on—or if there’s still something between us.
I don’t even know what I’ll say to her. I just know I can’t stay away anymore.
The journey is uneventful until we’re nearly there.
A rogue trap injures one of the patrol wolves. The Gamma’s injury is deep—bleeding badly—and we have no choice but to head straight to the camp hospital.
We pull up, and I step out first, lifting the injured warrior onto my shoulder. My boots hit the gravel with a crunch as I carry him inside.
Then I see her.
Evelyn is standing just outside the entrance, sunlight haloing around her hair like a crown. She’s laughing softly, her head tilted toward a man beside her—a tall, broad-shouldered Healer with golden skin and a confident smile.
The sight is a knife to my gut.
She’s glowing. Peaceful. Happy.
And I hate that I didn’t give that to her.
My grip on the wounded warrior tightens as I approach, voice hoarse. “We need medical attention.”
Evelyn turns. Her eyes land on me, and for a second, just a second, her smile falters. Her mouth parts in surprise. But she recovers quickly, her face settling into something neutral. Cold.
“Bring him in,” she says briskly, already turning toward the exam room. No emotion. No hesitation.
She doesn’t even look at me again.
The male Healer follows her inside, brushing past me. His hand brushes Evelyn’s lower back, guiding her forward as they talk in low tones.
My wolf growls in my chest.
