LOGAN: Alliance of Shadows, Book 2

Cunning Connections

I silently wondered if it would be possible for Raymundo to strip Nikolai of his powers and pass them to someone like Peter instead—someone who would use them for the greater good rather than selfish indulgence. The idea clung to me like an unanswered question, but it wouldn’t change the two paths that lay ahead of me.

There were only two ways out of this situation: one was to accept the powers I had been offered, and the other was far less appealing. Nikolai inheriting the last of his father’s powers would spell disaster—not just for me, but for everyone around him.

“What happened to the powers that Maximus had?” I asked, my voice breaking the tense silence.

Peter glanced my way, his dark blue eyes steady as he replied, “My brother, Micah, inherited them when our uncle died.”

I watched him, noting the unruly way his messy brown hair fell across his forehead. Something about him reminded me of Neil, and the pang of homesickness hit me hard, clenching my chest with sudden force. It had only been a few days since I left, but the ache was growing sharper with every passing moment.

“Are you all right, child?” Raymundo’s deep, resonant voice cut through my thoughts like a lifeline. “You drifted from us for a moment.”

“I’m fine,” I said softly, shaking off the wave of nostalgia.

A distant argument echoed from the stairwell, the sound pulling me back to the present. I recognized the voices immediately and rolled my eyes, frustration bubbling to the surface.

River Stone was doing his best to keep Maria from exploding, pacing near the doorway with his hands raised in a fruitless attempt to calm her down.

It was a blessing in disguise if she barged in and started her lectures. Her tirades usually focused on my well-being, and as much as I found them grating, they made sense. I would purposely give in to her demands—if only to see the annoyance flicker in my ancient uncle’s eyes.

Nikolai had no idea she was a ticking time bomb—or that she was considerably stronger than my Beta when pushed too far. It was no wonder Triple Trouble listened to her more than anyone else in the pack; her authority was natural, unshakable, and earned.

Maria stomped into the room, her green-brown eyes flashing dangerously as her boots struck the stone floor with every step. She marched straight over to me and jabbed her finger into my chest with startling force. “You haven’t eaten yet, and you’re down here making deals? Are you out of your ever-loving mind, Logan?”

I gritted my teeth. As much as I hated her lectures, she had an annoyingly valid point.

“Maria,” I began, my tone firm but tempered, “you know that I don’t make decisions without talking to my pack. Firstly, I need to run this by Dad. If I accept his offer, it’s permanent.”

Her breath hitched, catching in her throat. I could see the realization dawning in her expression, the weight of my words sinking in. She understood what I meant—that coming here would lead to answers for the unrelenting questions haunting me. But she also knew my curiosity wasn’t something easily satisfied. If anything, it would only fuel more questions.

“I’m coming up to get some food soon,” I called out to her as she walked out of the room.

She stopped, turning her head slightly, one eyebrow raised in mock exasperation. “Would you like me to make you a plate, Alpha?”

“Yes, please,” I replied quickly, knowing better than to refuse.

Maria’s sharp gaze swept across the others in the room as she scowled. “Don’t make me come back down here. You’re a cranky little snot when you’re hungry, Logan, and trust me, no one needs that today.”

Let me break it down for you: threatening my pack makes me angry. Now, add a good dose of hunger into the mix, and you’ve got one hangry Werewolf. That’s not something anyone ever wants to deal with.

When I reached the rooms where my friends and the adults were staying, my frown deepened. Armed guards flanked either end of the hallway, their rigid postures and gleaming weapons hinting at the heightened tension. The dim light from nearby sconces cast elongated shadows across the stone walls. Pacing restlessly near the center of the corridor was a man who bore a striking resemblance to the one who had interrupted Nikolai earlier.

"Excuse me, but why is the hallway being guarded?" I asked, my voice steady but edged with curiosity.

The man turned abruptly, his movement sharp as though startled. He let out a sigh of relief before offering me a small, cautious smile. "For a moment, I thought you might’ve been my father. These are my guards, little cousin."

Cousin?

I raised an eyebrow, skepticism brimming in my expression. "So you’re one of his kids? Thought you would be too jealous to approach me," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

The man laughed, though it seemed more out of exasperation than humor. "No! Good Gods, no. Father’s a grown man with a child’s mentality and a God complex. He likes to believe he’s in power." He paused for a moment, studying me intently. "Will you be accepting Grandfather’s offer?"

I met his gaze evenly, my expression slipping into one of practiced boredom. "I don’t even know you. I just met everyone, and I need some time to talk to my adoptive parents before making any decisions," I replied flatly, refusing to give him anything more to work with.

His smile widened, the corners of his dark blue eyes crinkling slightly. “It’s nice to see you have a head on your shoulders. My name is Micah. I’m the eldest of Father’s children. Unfortunately, not one of his sons believes him worthy of the power he holds.” He paused, his gaze steady but tinged with something unreadable. “Do us a favor, please. As my cousin Sarah’s heir, you are the child she predicted would end his tyranny.”

“And if you’re wrong? What if I’m not the predicted child? What if I’m just the catalyst for the way things will eventually go?” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at him.

Micah didn’t flinch, his tone remaining calm and thoughtful. “Even if you’re just a harbinger of things to come, your visit here has opened the eyes of everyone willing and ready to make a change. You were the hope we’d been waiting for. But you’re right—there’s always a chance the one to end my father could be one of his own. No one knows for certain, do they?”

Taking a breath, I felt my defenses soften just slightly. His honesty was clear in his expression, though doubt still lingered at the edges of my thoughts. “So why are you here?” I asked, testing his intentions.

“Peter was appointed to keep watch, but his sense of justice gave him away, Logan.” Micah shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “As the only one willing to stick his neck on the line, I volunteered my services. Not that my brother Hunter wouldn’t have done it, but he’s a little preoccupied at the moment. He’s actually out in the gardens working on a new anti-poison.”

I blinked at him, crossing my arms. “And you, what, thought it was a good idea to catch me off-guard and wait outside the rooms where my packmates and our guard are staying?”

His smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “Logan, I know you’re not staying in Mexico—I wouldn’t even suggest it. In fact, you and your friends need to leave as soon as possible. If you stay, my father will target them to get to you. Besides, it’s prudent that I discuss the transfer of power with your adoptive parents and hear your thoughts on it. And… I want to answer any questions you have about your Vampire heritage.”

Eager? Check. Willing to risk it all to help me? Check. Sane? I watched him closely, taking in his determined expression. So far, he seemed okay. At least more stable than his father—who was about as sane as a drowning man asking for water.

I exhaled slowly. “So, why are you really here, Micah? Trying to earn brownie points or something?”

People were only this helpful if there was something in it for them, so...

"What’s in it for you?" I asked, my tone sharp.

"My ancestral home," he replied without hesitation, his gaze steady. "The small, unknown town beyond the cave they call the Dragon's Mouth. In exchange for helping you learn more about yourself and come to terms with your abilities, that is all we desire. Should you decide to help us—should you take that path—we will peacefully return to the land our clan once called home."

"Is that all?" I shot back, my skepticism evident.

He laughed lightly, the sound tinged with amusement. "You're strong, Logan, and far too cunning to let yourself become trapped by things you don't understand. Let’s wait to discuss this until we can include your parents."

There was nothing in his stance that told me he was batty in any sense of the word. He stood with an easy confidence, his shoulders relaxed but not slouched, his posture steady without the faintest trace of nervous energy. Yet, there was something about him that felt… safe.

It wasn’t just the way he spoke—calm, measured, like he’d thought through every word before saying it. It was in the subtle cues: how his hands never fidgeted, how his gaze remained steady, unwavering, and clear. Even his expression, softened by faint lines of experience, carried no malice, only focus.

Despite my wariness, my instincts didn’t scream at me to run or raise my guard higher. Instead, they seemed quieter, almost willing to trust that, for once, I wasn’t standing across from someone waiting to stab me in the back. He didn’t feel like a threat—not right now, anyway. That, more than anything, made me uneasy.