Chapter 25

Evelyn

The air stank of blood and smoke, thick with the sounds of snarling wolves and shouting soldiers. My knees dug into the cold, blood-soaked earth as I pressed both hands to the warrior’s chest, channeling all of my healing capabilities into the gaping wound torn across his ribs.

His eyes fluttered open, glazed with pain, and I leaned closer.

“You’re going to be fine,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a prayer.

There was no room for fear anymore. Only focus. I didn’t have the luxury of letting my thoughts drift—not to Logan, not to the icy tension still crackling between us, and definitely not to the way he’d looked at me before storming into battle.

It felt good to be lost in my work, even if chaos swirled around me.

"He's stabilizing!" I shouted to the two medics behind me. “Get a cart ready for him to send him out of here. Now!”

They nodded and practically fell over themselves rushing to retrieve a cart.

The battlefield stretched in every direction, unfolding in brutal waves, and I was right in the thick of it.

I didn't care. I belonged here.

Another body collapsed nearby, and I was momentarily distracted. But no, I would tend to him as soon as they got the soldier beneath me safely off the field.

But with all of the noise and frightening scenes unfolding, I didn’t hear the rogue until it was almost too late.

A snarl sliced through the air, low and guttural. I froze, just for a moment, but it was enough. My head lifted, eyes searching, too slow to register what was coming. A blur of fur, bared teeth, and raw fury surged toward me from the tree line, fast and merciless.

Time cracked open.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All I saw were claws and fangs and the certainty of death hurtling toward me.

Then—

A roar.

A blur of muscle and rage slammed into the rogue midair, knocking it off course. The two figures hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and rage, and I stared in disbelief as Logan—my husband, Logan—pinned the rogue to the dirt with sheer brute force.

He was everywhere at once. His claws tore into the rogue’s chest. His teeth snapped, and his fists rained down blow after blow until the thing stopped moving entirely.

Blood soaked his arms. His shirt was shredded. His chest heaved with exertion, and his eyes—those familiar, bright green eyes—locked onto mine.

I could barely breathe.

“You…” I whispered, my voice barely more than air. “You saved me?”

Logan stood, panting. He stepped between me and the rogue’s corpse like a living shield, eclipsing it from view.

His gaze softened. “Of course I did, Evelyn.”

My throat tightened. Something cracked inside me, something old and buried and heavy. But there was no time to feel it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he added quickly. “It’s too dangerous. Go back and heal the soldiers that trickle in from the field.”

“I’m staying,” I said, standing as best I could, trying to shake off the tremble in my hands. “There are too many wounded here. I can’t leave.”

Logan looked like I’d slapped him. “You’re not staying.”

My jaw tightened. “I’m a healer, Logan. You think I’m going to run and hide while others are dying?”

He stepped closer, crowding into my space. “You could have died just now.”

“But I didn’t.” I squared my shoulders. “Because you were there. And maybe I’ll be there for someone else. That’s what we do. That’s what I do.”

He ran a hand through his blood-matted hair. “You’re not a warrior.”

“I’m not helpless either.”

“This isn’t a debate, Evelyn. You’re done for today.”

I stepped forward until we were toe-to-toe, and I was craning my neck back to take in the full scope of him. “Don’t you dare order me around.”

“You’re not staying on the front lines.” His voice was low and lethal. “That’s final.”

I felt the old, familiar spark of rebellion rise in my chest, the same fire that had gotten me through captivity, pain, and heartbreak. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You don’t get to decide where I stand and what I do.”

“I do when your life is on the line!” he snapped, then caught himself, breathing hard. “Please. Just go back to camp.”

I turned away from him without answering. He cursed behind me but didn’t follow.

Later, back at the field camp, I paced like a caged animal. My body ached from overuse, and my palms were stained with dried blood, but I couldn’t stop moving. Warriors came in waves—some bruised, some broken, all needing help—and I gave everything I had.

But my heart wasn’t calm. Logan’s words echoed in my skull.

“You’re not staying on the front lines.”

He didn’t understand. He never had—not really. The battlefield wasn’t just a place for warriors. It was where I found purpose. Where I mattered.

I overheard two warriors talking near the evacuation carts, saying the second wave had begun, that Logan and the others were moving deeper into rogue territory. Reinforcements were loading up.

This was my chance. I needed to get back where the action was. I was hardly any use standing around here, no matter what Logan said.

I slipped away unnoticed, dragging my satchel filled with medicinal herbs and tinctures with me, ducking behind supply crates and down the far side of the ridge. I spotted one of the wagons gearing up as soldiers flung themselves aboard to move out.

I climbed into the back while they were distracted, pulling a tarp over myself. My heart thundered in my chest. I should have been afraid.

But I wasn’t. My heart, instead, was beating with anticipation. This was what I was good at, what I was made for.

The wagon rumbled forward. I curled up, clutching the satchel of herbs and salves to my chest.

Let Logan be furious. Let him scream and shout all he wanted. I didn’t care.

I had to be there.

By the time the truck rolled to a stop, the air outside was filled with fresh tension, the kind that came before bloodshed. I peeked from beneath the tarp. The warriors had already disembarked. No one noticed me as I slipped down, the scent of ash, fresh blood, and sweat immediately slamming into my senses.

I made my way toward the second front, skirting the perimeter. I found the injured quickly. They were certainly hard to miss in such large numbers.

They were strewn across a shallow ravine, and only two healers had made it this far. Their soldiers’ groans of pain peppered the air over the shouts of people actively engaged in the fighting.

One of the healers, eyes wide, saw me and whispered, “Evelyn? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to help,” I said simply, kneeling beside the nearest body.

I worked fast, losing myself in the rhythm of healing—binding wounds, mending bones, whispering reassurance. The chaos of battle surrounded us, but I found peace in purpose.

A familiar growl erupted nearby.

I glanced up just in time to see Logan on the hill above, his body drenched in sweat and blood, his expression thunderous as he locked eyes with me.

The battle must have been over or at least close to ending, or else he and his Gamma unit would have never left the fighting in such large numbers. And now his focus was trained on me.

I braced myself.

He descended the hill like a storm, cutting through the remnants of the battlefield toward me with laser focus. His warriors parted for him. Even the remaining rogues seemed to hesitate.

I didn’t stop healing.

When he reached me, he crouched low, grabbing my wrist.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was rough, torn between fury and fear. “I thought you finally had the good sense to listen to me, but I guess I was mistaken.”

“I told you,” I murmured, not looking away from the soldier I was treating. “This is where I belong. You don’t get to order me around like that.”

He stared at me for a long moment, breathing hard.

“Damn it, Evelyn.”

Then he dropped to one knee beside me… and stayed.

He didn’t pull me away.

He didn’t shout.

He just knelt in the dirt, covered in blood, and helped me work.

I had thought he was safe, that the battle was finished, but one moment he was leaning over to help the soldier between us, and the next he was keeling over himself, an arrow protruding from his shoulder.