Chapter 23

Logan

I hadn’t meant for Evelyn to see that. I knew how it must have looked to her: very, very bad.

Evelyn froze at the end of the corridor. Her eyes widened, and for a fraction of a second, I saw something break inside her. She didn’t speak; she just turned around and walked away like I was nothing.

“Evelyn—wait!” I pushed Emma off me with a growl, shoving her back hard enough that she almost stumbled into the wall.

She blinked at me, lips still wet, eyes smug. “You didn’t stop me right away.”

“I didn’t expect you to throw yourself at me in front of my wife.”

“You didn’t exactly hate it.”

My jaw tightened. “Don’t do that. Don’t twist this into something it’s not. I didn’t like it. And I don’t want you. Not like that.”

Her expression faltered. “You belong with someone like me, Logan. Not—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I warned, stepping closer. “I’m still her husband. You don’t get to claim me just because she’s hurt.”

She shook her head. “Fool.”

Maybe. But if I was a fool, I was her fool.

And now I had to find a way to fix what Emma had just shattered.

Evelyn

My immediate response was to go to my room and cry. I felt helpless and pathetic, sobbing alone in my bedroom over a person who didn’t want me.

He was not who I had been expecting when we first married. Three years hadn’t been enough for him to warm up to me. At every turn, he had proven that I was not the one he wanted, after all.

It must’ve been at least an hour before I sniffled up the last of my tears and steeled myself. I had given in to the moment to purge my emotions, but I needed to set these weak feelings behind me. There was work to be done and people to heal. Fortunately, I had a job I could lose myself in.

Even still, Logan's voice haunted the corners of my memory, but I no longer turned when I heard it. I had trained myself not to. Even now, as it echoed distantly down the corridor outside the infirmary, I kept my back to the door, pretending I hadn’t heard.

My fingers tightened around the rim of the porcelain bowl I was rinsing. The scent of cleaner and blood clung to the air, but it was nothing compared to the scent of her that still lingered in my nose.

Emma.

Emma, with her cruel laugh and glossy smile. Emma, who had wrapped her arms around Logan’s neck like she belonged to him. Emma, who had kissed him like she’d done it a thousand times before.

I felt sick at the memory and refreshed in my hatred. I had been betrayed by those two every step of the way. Emma was always going to try and put me down, and, inexplicably, Logan was always going to choose her.

He hadn’t stopped her. Even while she leaned forward and kissed him in front of his legal wife, he hadn’t had the decency to tell her no. But perhaps he was just being cruel because of what he thought had happened with Chris?

That image had burned into my mind—had taken root like a weed—and I couldn’t rip it out no matter how hard I tried.

So why wouldn’t he sign the divorce papers then? Every time I asked him to, he refused.

I couldn’t help but wonder: wouldn’t he be happier without me? Then, he would be free to choose Emma again, once and for all.

The infirmary was empty for the moment, and I should’ve welcomed the quiet. But silence, it turned out, was louder than confrontation. As my mind reeled with these memories, I couldn’t help but feel incredibly alone. I clutched the bowl tighter, my knuckles whitening, jaw locked.

“You’re avoiding me again,” came the familiar deep voice from behind.

I stiffened.

I hadn’t heard him enter. Damn him for being so quiet. If I had known he was coming, I would have fled the room before he arrived. I had been successfully avoiding him since that kiss, after all.

“I’m working,” I said coolly, not turning around. “Unless you’re bleeding, I don’t have time for you.”

A pause. Then footsteps crossed the floor slowly, deliberately. He wasn’t going to leave.

“I’m not leaving until we talk.”

“Then enjoy the view of my back.”

“I’m serious, Evelyn.”

“So am I.”

I turned then, slowly, to face him. He looked tired. His hair was messier than usual, and his shirt was wrinkled. My heart gave a traitorous stutter. He looked awful, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say it seemed like he hadn’t been sleeping.

I buried my sympathy deep, deep inside of me and narrowed my gaze.

“Sign the divorce papers,” I said flatly. “That’s all I want to talk about.”

His jaw ticked. “I told you I’m not signing them.”

“Why not?” I demanded. “You clearly want Emma. You can have her. You already had her.”

He flinched. Good.

“That’s not true. You just don’t understand how things are between Emma and me.”

“I saw enough to get a pretty decent idea,” I snapped. “And frankly, I don’t care what your excuse is anymore. I want out, Logan. If you’re going to continue treating me like this, then I want a clean break.”

His eyes darkened, and for a second, I saw the Alpha underneath the man, the stubborn, infuriating force of nature I’d once fallen in love with. “You think you’re the only one hurting here?”

“I’m not hurting. I’m just over it. I’ve hurt enough, and now I’m done.”

“That’s a lie.”

I threw the bowl into the sink with a sharp crack, water splashing up onto my shirt. “What do you want from me, Logan? Do you want me to pretend everything is fine? Pretend you didn’t betray me again? You made your choice. You keep making it.”

“I didn’t choose her,” he growled.

“You didn’t choose me, either.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but I turned back around, dismissing him the way he’d dismissed me all those times when I begged him to let me in, to trust me with the burden he carried.

I stood there, gripping the edge of the counter, trying to keep myself upright and steeling myself. He looked like there was something he desperately wanted to express, but I wouldn’t let him. He’d had enough opportunities.

When I felt I could move my legs again, I forced them to walk away, leaving Logan standing there in silence. Next time, I would be more careful to listen for his footfalls.

Days passed in a haze of indifference. I knew that Logan was searching for me, had even heard some of the other staff members say he was asking around about me, but I meticulously avoided him.

Eventually, Logan stopped trying.

And that, oddly, hurt more.

He stopped wandering the halls and looking for me. Put an abrupt end to his pausing by the infirmary and demanding that Chris let him in to talk to me. He even stopped showing up outside my quarters to demand a conversation.

He was letting go.

That’s what I wanted, right? I had practically begged him to sign those divorce papers.

But then why did I feel like I was unraveling?

I told myself it was for the best. Letting go of a toxic bond. Healing. Reclaiming my life. I threw myself into work, mending broken bones, mixing tinctures, and training the healers until my feet ached and my hands were raw.

There had been a time when all I had wanted was Logan, and I tried to convince myself that now all I wanted was this. I could train myself to only want to heal, to help others. This would be my new sole purpose.

But every time the front doors of the infirmary creaked open, I looked up, expecting to see him.

He never came.

And that silence—the one I thought I wanted—turned suffocating.

It was near dusk nearly a week after I had last spoken to Logan when the warning bells began to ring. They were deep, discordant clangs that rattled the stone walls of the building and sent a chill racing down my spine.

I knew what they heralded.

I was in the middle of stitching a gash in a guard’s leg when the doors burst open and Chris stumbled in, wide-eyed and pale.

“Rogues,” he said breathlessly. “Border breach. They’re saying it’s a bloodbath.”

Everything stopped. I froze, breath catching in my lungs.

“How many?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Too many. At least two dozen. We didn’t see them coming. We had no time to prepare.”

He paused, like the words were caught in his throat. Then, he visibly swallowed and added, “Logan’s already leading the front line.”

My heart dropped. “He’s what?”

“He shifted the second he got the call and headed straight for the frontlines. He’s going to lead the charge against them. I thought… I thought you would want to know.”

I didn’t think. I handed off the stitching to another healer and grabbed my emergency kit off the shelf.

“Evelyn!” Chris called after me as I ran for the door. “Where are you going?”

“To the front,” I called over my shoulder.

“You’re not cleared—” Chris began, but I cut him off.

“Try and stop me.”