LOGAN: Alliance of Shadows, Book 2

Reflections of Growth

It had been six years since I last saw anyone from Madre's family—not that it mattered. They cared too much about Nikolai's wounded pride to even attempt understanding the truth for themselves. Followers, blind to the reality before them. Sheep, marching willingly to the slaughter.

Colton, River, and Carson had pulled us out that same day. None of us hesitated. Staying was never an option.

Peter and his seven older brothers fought to set the record straight, but their efforts amounted to nothing. Their stepmother tried—pleaded—to change their father’s mind, but despite her attempts, they were exiled all the same. Most of the guards swore allegiance to Micah, Harold, and Justin—Peter’s three oldest brothers. Their influence ran deep.

In the end, Nikolai was left with nothing but a fractured army and a broken legacy. His eight eldest children chose to follow me back to Canada. Before we left, they ensured the truth was spoken—to the magic users, to the Vampires who had been cast aside. Word spread fast.

Despite meeting Peter first, I ended up forging a stronger friendship with Hunter. Like me, he was insatiable when it came to learning. He became my guide, helping me harness the power lurking within me.

He started small—getting me to light candles and torches. Then, we pushed further, testing my limits until exhaustion forced me to stop. Together, we discovered the full extent of my abilities: I could mask my scent, wield telepathy, and set objects ablaze with a thought.

But the power didn’t stop there. My Vampire nature strengthened my wolf, sharpening my reflexes, heightening my senses. I ran faster, saw clearer, heard things beyond the ordinary. My friends joked that I was the wolf from Red Riding Hood—only this time, I was the one people should fear.

When I got back, I asked Dad if he could draft an agreement granting the brothers access to—and ownership of—the land they had left behind. Though it had been part of the purchase agreement when it was sold to the Shadow Storm pack over a century ago, Dad agreed that its rightful place was with them. I combed through every clause, scrutinizing each detail until I was certain there were no loopholes.

Soon after, the Howlers received a mission—handed down by the Grand Alpha himself. We were to act as liaisons between the Vampires and the Shadow Storm pack. At first, I handled it alone. But once they earned my trust, I introduced my friends to them, ensuring careful integration.

They assumed I wasn’t aware of Ember’s abilities—her Clairvoyance—or the unlikely bond she had forged with Peter. Quickly becoming friends over their shared abilities – hers being Clairvoyance while his was scrying – it was inevitable they form some kind of connection. The day she broke down crying over it when I confronted her, she confessed to their secret meetups to practice her powers with simple scrying tools.

She thought secrecy would shield her, that telling the truth might cost her our friendship – a deeply cemented bond of chosen family. I simply hugged her and told her I was fine with it—as long as he never hurt her. That seemed to be all the confirmation she needed that I would never, in any lifetime, toss her aside for keeping her personal life separate. Asking her to let me know when and where they would meet up so I knew where to find her in an emergency also helped ease her mind.

Not that losing her had ever been an option. I didn’t throw good people away for no reason.

All the Howlers had grown stronger. Even the smallest of the girls matched the pace of the rest of us, proving that size no longer dictated ability.

Our False Omega was, in truth, a Warrior. A fighter who thrived in combat without hesitation. Wyn wasn’t just intelligent—she was cunning, agile, and unshakable. Her sharp temperament, combined with the twins’ knack for finding conflict at any hour of the day, earned them the infamous nickname Triple Trouble.

Samuel remained a work in progress—his insatiable appetite aside, his tendency to crack under intense questioning was still an issue. Devon, on the other hand, emerged as a Warrior in his own right. Though the youngest girls, Em and Heaven, were Omegas alongside Samuel, their dedication to First Aid was undeniable. Whenever any of us sustained injuries, they eagerly practiced, marking the start of their paths as Medics—though convincing Dad and Phillip to accept their chosen role was a battle I had yet to fight.

Tracking was Jacob’s specialty. His ability to locate things others couldn't was almost eerie, but invaluable. His skill with ropes and traps made me thankful he had pleaded for the Delta position when he was just five.

Maria thrived in her Gamma role, transforming scraps into tools, engineering solutions from what others dismissed as nothing. Paul, my best friend and Beta, shared the same instinct—turning thought into action without hesitation.

Our bond had remained as close as ever throughout the years. Though we sometimes got under each other’s skin, we almost always ended up laughing when Maria inevitably scolded us once word of our spats reached her ears.

Me? Well, at fourteen—several years after my cousins returned—I was honored for helping them carve the path toward a better future. Their gift to me? The official Valencia family title of Lord—a recognition steeped in legacy. Just two years prior, Dad had formally announced that I held the title of Alpha Prince Logan. Adding that in with my newly bestowed title?

Yeah… let’s just say introducing myself as Lord Alpha Prince Logan was not happening. I bailed on that so fast my head hurt. After rallying Mom and Izaria to my side, both families conceded to my terms: titles would be used only during formal events.

Now, at fifteen—almost sixteen—I was taller, stronger, faster, and sharper than ever. The title of Runt had long since become obsolete. I still had my slate (blue-grey, people) eyes and vibrant red hair.

Wanna know a secret? The natural mix of whites, browns, and greys that actually made up my wolf’s colour were perfectly blended into the distinct red everyone was used to. No one knew except those who had accidentally found out. The list was short: Mom, my friends, Izzy, Dad, Neil, and Phillip. The only way to actually see them, would be to carefully examine my hair roots.

Hint: the colours were hidden in the first half-inch, starting at my scalp.

Training with Neil, Colt, and Jasper was always an experience—equal parts grueling and ridiculous. Every. Single. Saturday. Morning. Without fail. And just when I thought the day might ease up, the afternoons arrived. Rest? A luxury. Instead, I made my way to the restored Ruby Fang lands, where my cousins ensured my training continued.

By the time I stumbled back into the packhouse, I was dead-set on some much-needed R&R. Hunter and I had spent hours working on my teleportation technique—a process far more exhausting than it sounded.

Hunger nudged me toward the kitchen. I grabbed an apple from the fridge and searched the cupboards for the cookies Mom had baked earlier. No luck. Shrugging off the disappointment, I turned to head up to the third floor to go to my room, only to be stopped by the unmistakable sound of excited whispers and the rapid patter of tiny feet heading straight for me. The last thing I wanted when I was this dog-tired was to run into any of my nephews.

No pun intended.

Ducking behind the kitchen door, I watched my little brother and three oldest nephews scour the room for the cookies. Henry pouted as they searched, their determination unwavering despite the fact that the cookies were long gone.

"They all gone bye-bye, Lorne?" four-year-old Hayden asked, his voice full of disappointment.

Rafe wrapped his arms around his little brother in an attempt at comfort. "There, there, baby. Don't cry."

Tempted to laugh out loud, I continued observing as Lorne walked over to the pantry door. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled it open. When he glanced back over his shoulder, his gaze landed directly on me, catching me red-handed in my hiding spot.

"Logan, did you eat the rest of the cookies? I know Mommy makes good treats, but that’s too much," he accused.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I swear, I didn’t eat them. Watching you guys search was pretty funny, though."

"Not funny, Uncle Lo-Lo!" Hayden wailed, his distress instant and absolute. The nickname, one the Howlers had given me years ago, now carried the weight of a child’s broken heart. Izzy would not go easy on me if I made her kids cry – even if it wasn’t my fault. Forget mama bear, she was a she-wolf in Druid’s clothing!

The smirk vanished from my face. I was good with kids, but all my nephews had to do was start crying, and I was defenseless. If I’m being bluntly honest here, I was clueless when it came to stopping their tears without caving to their demands.

My exhaustion evaporated as instinct took over, and I bolted for the front door.

In my failed attempt to escape, I tripped over a stray pair of shoes. A quiet curse slipped out before Lorne seized the opportunity—launching himself onto my back.

"Oof! You're definitely not getting any lighter, Lorne," I teased, rolling over beneath his weight. Digging my fingers into his sides, I grinned. "Might be time to cut back on all those high-sugar treats you love so much, buddy."

"Not a chance, big brother," he laughed, wriggling to escape. "You're stronger than this, and we both know it."