Page 10 of Defiance
Logan wondered which one of them was secretly on their side. Jacob would never tell him, not that Logan would ask.
The door swung open, cutting off any further thoughts, and Logan forced himself to breathe steadily in and out. Some nerves would be expected, but not to the extent Logan feared he’d display if his concentration faltered.
Jacob stepped forward. “You’re expecting us, I believe?”
“Yeah.” Jez’s gaze landed on Logan. “We’ve only just started.” He sighed and rubbed at his temple, as though he had a headache forming. Blood splattered the back of his hand, and Logan’s nostrils flared as the scent hit him full force.
Cole.
That was Cole’s blood on him.
Bastards.
Fighting the howl building inside him, Logan clenched his fists and waited to be asked inside.
“Got anything useful yet?” Jacob asked, sounding composed in a way Logan envied.
“Not really.” He shrugged. “But then you never do at the beginning.”
Not until they beat it out of them.
Jez took a couple of steps back. “You’d better come in, then.”
Jacob gave Logan’s shoulder another squeeze. “I’ll see you later.”
Logan swallowed, the scent of Cole’s blood clinging to the back of his throat, and stepped into the room.
The door clicked shut with a quiet finality, and Logan braced himself for what came next.
A myriad of scents drifted over to him, but all he could smell was Cole.
The door itself was set back, so initially the whole of the room wasn’t visible.
“Come on.” Jez walked forward, and Logan had no choice but to follow.
As they came into the room fully, Logan’s steps faltered.
The last time he’d seen Cole, they’d stolen one last chaste kiss. He’d been so sure in their decision, knowing that coming back was dangerous but believing they had to do it. Cole was the key to getting the Candidate Evacuation Group to trust them: a human forced into a pack but willing to fight for freedom. The CEG were wary of trusting shifters who’d initially fought for the Alliance—and Logan didn’t blame them—but Cole was different. Although none of them knew how this would turn out, Cole’s eyes had been full of a sort of nervous excitement. Body vibrating with anticipation of what lay ahead. Full of life.
The Cole tied to the chair in the middle of the room was nothing like that. His head lolled forward, shoulders slumped, and blood stained both his jeans and the floor in front of him.
Logan’s hands curled into fists as Smith grabbed a handful of Cole’s hair and yanked his head up.
“Look who’s joined us.”
It took Cole a second or two to focus on him, and Logan was powerless to stop the rage building inside him. His face might have healed from whatever they’d done, but red was smeared all over him.
And he looked drugged.
Logan took a step towards him, a low growl escaping, his only thought to grab Cole and get the fuck out of there.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Cole slurred, voice colder than Logan had ever heard it, and it stopped him in his tracks. “This is all your fucking fault.”
Sense returned to him with a jolt, and Logan drew up short, heart pounding with the realisation he’d almost ruined everything. “I’m not the one who ran away,” he answered, relieved at how his voice remained steady. He took a couple more steps forwards, slow and sure this time. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?”
Cole sneered. “Don’t give a shit, mate.” He laughed, the sound a bitter version of what Logan was used to hearing. “I hope they toss you in shifter prison and throw away the fucking key.” Narrowing his eyes, he fixed Logan with a look of utter contempt. “You said you were there to help me, but you put a fucking tracker in me instead. Forgot to mention that little gem in your pep talk!”
He’s good at this.
