Logan's POV
It's not every day you find out you're directly linked to the quiet death of what makes your people.
It isn't every day you discover you're tied to the chemical suffocation of hundreds of thousands of wolves.
It definitely isn't every day you find that out while sitting among your family and pack Alphas, but—
Here I am.
I'd thought the worst thing I could do was leave Noah.
Turns out, the worst thing I could do was come back—
And paint a target on his back with my own fucking glory.
I stare, wide-eyed, at the hologram of myself on the screen, swinging my bat like it's salvation. The clip loops again. And again. And again until I can feel it even now— the grainy wood against my palms, the breath in my throat as I wait for the pitchers toss, the salt of sweat on my lips right before the—
Swing.
A fist smashes into my jaw.
I stumble back. Pain explodes across my cheek and all I see is fire. Rowan's voice follows, furious, frayed. "You PAC dog!"
