Chapter 41

Logan

The clang of metal was distant. I had already searched the medical wing and been redirected to the training field in my search for Evelyn. At first, I had found this instruction odd, but I had followed it anyway.

The clashing sound of weaponry was background noise to the steady rhythm of footsteps on packed dirt. I stood at the edge of the training yard, arms crossed, watching her.

Evelyn moved slowly, carefully, beside a young soldier named Dax. The boy leaned on a cane, his left leg stiff and dragging, but he was upright, sweating, gritting his teeth, and refusing to quit.

Dax had taken a nasty arrow to the thigh in a recent battle. The arrow’s aim had been brutal, and removing it had damaged many of his leg muscles. He likely wouldn’t see the battlefield again anytime soon, as he would need to learn how to walk on his damaged leg all over again.

And it seemed that Evelyn would be the one teaching him.

Evelyn didn’t push. She didn’t bark orders like the other trainers. She encouraged in murmurs, adjusted Dax’s grip with a feather-light touch, and when he stumbled, she didn’t flinch. She simply caught his elbow, steadied him, and waited until he was ready to try again.

It was a kind of strength I never quite understood until now. This patience and calm, soothing aura… it was a special kind of power and skill. I couldn’t help but pause and watch, impressed.

She hadn’t noticed me yet. That was fine. Admittedly, I needed the moment.

After the explosion of Emma’s staged engagement announcement, the rumors lit like wildfire, and the way Evelyn had likely been quietly devastated by the conversation, I hadn’t expected to find her here, doing this.

But then, Evelyn never did what people expected.

I finally moved toward her, footsteps crunching on the gravel. She glanced over her shoulder, and the flicker of recognition in her eyes didn’t come with tension or bitterness.

“Alpha,” she greeted softly, helping Dax sit on the bench and handing him a towel.

I shook my head. “You don’t have to call me that.”

“I do when the soldiers are listening.” She gave me a quiet smile. “But you can sit, if you want.”

I lowered myself onto the bench as she settled Dax into a seat nearby. He was too winded to say much but nodded respectfully. Sweat was dripping from his face in droplets. Evelyn handed the boy a water bottle and a towel, then sat across from me, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

I didn’t know how to start, so I didn’t waste time pretending. Surely she had already heard the rumors by now, as she spent more time among the soldiers than even I did.

“I came to say I’m sorry,” I said. “For what Emma did. For what it might have stirred up.”

Evelyn watched me, her expression unreadable for a beat. Then she shrugged. “I’m not surprised she said it.”

I blinked. “You’re not?”

“Are you?” she asked teasingly.

“I didn’t think she would go that far,” I admitted.

“She’s always been clever at finding the soft spots to strike.” Evelyn rested her elbows on her knees. “And you and I? We confuse people. That’s a vulnerable thing. I guess something like this was always inevitable, but I never predicted that she would be this bold.”

I frowned, guilt pressing behind my ribs. “I just heard the rumors myself a few minutes ago. I wanted you to know that I shut her down as fast as I could. Publicly. Loudly. It wasn’t enough, but—”

“It was enough for me,” she interrupted gently. “Logan, I know what you had with her. She’s special to you, even if I have my own reservations about her. And I know what you’re trying to build now. I’m not holding any of this against you because I already knew you had nothing to do with it.”

The quiet between us stretched. It was comfortable, complicated.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she finally added.

“I don’t deserve that kind of grace,” I muttered, my voice low.

“You probably don’t,” she agreed, lips twitching to smother a smirk. “But I’m not here because of what you deserve. I’m here because I believe in what you’re trying to fix, and I believe that I can make a difference by helping. And because…”

She hesitated, then looked over at Dax, who had dozed off against the wall. “Some people still need a reason to try again.”

I followed her gaze. Something in my chest pulled tight.

She glanced from Dax out to the other training soldiers. In front of us, dozens of werewolves were practicing with swords, bows and arrows, claws, and teeth for their next battle.

These were people who followed my orders into danger, who trusted me with their lives. And beside me, Evelyn was the one who stitched those injured by my instruction back up. So much hinged on their trust in my direction and her skilled hands.

I looked back at her, searching for the right words. “I mean it, Evelyn. Thank you. For staying. I know it wasn’t an easy choice for you, but you make a huge difference around here. And thank you for this… this forgiveness. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you like I should have.”

“You just did.”

She stood, brushing dust off her knees. “Now, if you’re done apologizing, I have a stubborn soldier who still wants to walk unaided by the end of the month. He’s not going to make much progress sleeping like that.”

I stood too, watching as she gently nudged Dax awake and offered her hand.

I didn’t say anything else because I felt I didn’t need to. But there was a pull for me. It was like her unwavering understanding had unlocked something in me, leaving it bare and vulnerable. I turned from her before I could do something foolish.

Only when I was several yards from her could I admit what that pull had been: I had wanted to kiss her.

This was strange. I hadn’t ever felt this for her before. She had been a convenient match and someone useful around camp. But now I was beginning to appreciate that she provided more to the cause than I initially assumed because she was gentle and patient and giving when she had no reason to be. It was a strength I could not recognize until I’d met her.

As I walked back toward the barracks, the weight in my chest shifted, rearranged itself into something quieter. I was no longer thinking about Emma and her betrayal, but instead, I couldn’t stop thinking about Evelyn and her easy forgiveness.

This woman—resilient, compassionate, unshaken by the noise—she’d once been a girl I barely understood. She’d been someone I’d married but never mated, a convenient match that I had hoped but not necessarily expected to blossom into something fruitful.

But for now, no one would need to know that my thoughts on Evelyn were evolving, especially if it could get back to Emma and cause us more headaches. No one needed to know, and no one ever would.