Page 15 of Left Cold, Wolf Owned
6
LOGAN
Ihave managed this pack through territorial disputes, a harsh winter that nearly wiped out our supply stores, and the time Declan decided to pick a fight with a visiting Alpha twice his size for reasons that were never fully explained. I have handled all of it with reasonable composure.
Watching Harper Collins laugh at something Nora says over a plate of eggs is, inexplicably, harder.
My seat is the same as it always is—close enough to read the room, far enough to give people space to be themselves without the weight of my presence sitting on top of everything. It's a habit I developed early, and it serves me well. This morning, it serves me in a different way entirely, because from here I can watch Harper without making it obvious, and I find that I cannot stop watching Harper.
She's different from the way she was last night. The composure is still there—it's structural with her, built in—but it's sitting looser now, less like armor and more like a default. She's in Nora's clothes, a few inches too long, and she looks more herself in them than she probably realizes. Her hair is down and still slightly damp from the shower, and she's got both handsaround her coffee mug the way she did last night, like warmth is something she's still catching up on.
Declan is to her left, which is either an accident or isn't, and knowing Declan, it isn't. He's been angled toward her since they sat down, that crooked grin already running at full capacity, and I watch him say something that makes Harper's eyes narrow in the way they do when she's deciding whether to laugh or push back. She pushes back. Declan looks delighted, which was probably his intention from the start.
"For the record," Declan is saying, loud enough that the whole table can hear, "when Nora described what you looked like this morning when she found you—the hair, the remnants of last night still all over you—I was expecting something very different at this table."
Harper raises an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning you clean up nice." He says it with complete sincerity. "Genuinely. Nora made it sound like she'd found someone who'd wrestled the mountain and lost."
Nora shrugs from across the table, completely unrepentant. "I described it accurately."
"You said her hair was doing three different things."
"It was doing three different things."
Harper turns to look at Nora with an expression caught somewhere between laughter and horror. "You told people about my hair."
"I told one person," Nora says, with the serenity of not feeling like she has done anything wrong.
"I told everyone else," Declan says cheerfully. "But the point stands—considering where you started this morning, you look great. No evidence of the mountain whatsoever." He nods approvingly. "Strong recovery."
"I'm so glad," Harper says drily, "that my recovery is up to standard."
"She's been here one morning," Declan tells the table as he puts a hand over his heart.
"And already figured you out," Nora says.
The table reacts. Mateo, who has been the picture of composure at the other end, looks down at his coffee with the air of a man suppressing something. Lila laughs, bright and genuine.
I drink my coffee and say nothing and watch Harper exist comfortably inside a group of people she met less than twelve hours ago. My wolf goes to that low, attentive stillness. I file it away for later and keep my expression even.
Breakfast winds down, and the lodge begins to empty out in the natural way it does when the morning moves toward work. I catch Mateo near the door first, stepping close enough to keep it between us.
"North ridge patrol," he says before I can speak. "I'm taking Declan."
"Good. Before you go—" I lower my voice. "Nobody says anything to her about what we are. The pack holds the line on that. She has enough to carry right now without adding ours to it."
Mateo holds my gaze steadily. "Already understood. I'll make sure Declan's clear on it before we leave."
"Make sure he's very clear."
The corner of Mateo's mouth moves. "I'll use small words." He glances back toward the table where Harper is still finishing her coffee with Nora and Lila. "She's doing well, Logan. Better than well." He looks back at me. "Talk to her today. The car, the town. Give her the information she needs." A pause. "She deserves to know where she stands."
"I know," I say. "I will."
He nods and steps outside. A moment later, I cross to where Declan is pulling on his jacket near the far wall, and I wait until he looks up.
"You heard me with Mateo," I say. It's not a question.
