LOGAN: Alliance of Shadows, Book 2

Waking to Change

“Mi bebé,” my mother’s worried voice broke through the haze of sleep. It dragged me unwillingly out of dreamland and into the stark reality of my life. Her tone was soft, yet laced with urgency that made my chest tighten. “Wake up, Logan.”

“Five more minutes, Madre,” I whimpered, my voice muffled by the warmth of the backseat where I had curled up.

A deep chuckle followed, breaking through my grogginess like sunlight slipping through heavy curtains. Strong arms gently lifted me out of the car, and the contrast of cool air against my skin made me shiver. I blinked blearily, struggling to wake as the world outside the cocoon of the car became sharper.

Over the course of the journey, asking Kaden questions about the pack had become second nature to me. I thrived on his patient answers and his reassuring explanations. He seemed to genuinely enjoy my curiosity, often chuckling as I peppered him with questions. Madre, however, was less enthusiastic, her voice carrying a distinctly concerned edge as she tried to hush me even though Kaden always waved her off with a lighthearted laugh.

“It’s good that he wants to learn,” he would say with an encouraging smile. “Inquisitive minds grow strong, and I can already tell he’s more like you than Austin.”

Though said in jest, there seemed to be a kernel of truth to the statement. It was as if he and my sire had a bad history, and Kaden obviously felt content to learn that I was not following in Austin’s footsteps.

Yes, for those wondering, I privately called my father by name, just not where others could hear me.

“Madre, cinco minutos más,” I muttered, scowling, my Spanish slipping out instinctively in my half-asleep state.

There was that darn laugh again. It broke through the comforting haze of sleep, interrupting my search for just a few more hours of blissfully quiet rest. What was it going to take to keep the world at bay for a little while longer?

A gentle male voice asked my mother what I was saying. I recognized it instantly as Kaden’s. His tone was calm and curious, a stark contrast to the harshness I associated with my father. Madre’s soft giggle followed, a sound so rare it felt like music to my ears. She never laughed around my father. She was too afraid to make a sound, too practiced in keeping her head down and her mouth shut.

“He is asking for five more minutes,” she replied, her voice carrying a note of warmth I hadn’t heard in years. Cradling me to her chest, she added softly, “We’re home, Logan.”

Home...? The word snagged in my mind like a splinter, sharp and unrelenting. The house we’d left behind wasn’t home—it was something darker. I wasn’t expecting this place to be any different.

Austin never allowed Madre and me to make friends. He was too afraid we’d tell someone about the abuse, too paranoid that they might believe us over him. The isolation was suffocating, and yet I clung to the fragile hope that someday someone would question the tightly guarded secrets. I held onto the distant dream that someday, someone would help us, protect us from the harsh reality we were accustomed to.

My body felt like it changed hands, but I still didn’t open my eyes. There was no sign of Austin’s looming presence nearby, which let me remain curled into the warmth of the living heater that was holding me.

“Hey, kiddo,” Kaden’s familiar voice murmured softly in my ear, breaking through the fog of sleep. I frowned at the sound—not out of fear or frustration, but because it meant the end of my hard-earned rest. “Let’s get you into a nice cozy bed for once.”

A few moments later, the sensation of weightlessness gave way to the softness that enveloped me. The sheets smelled clean, and the mattress felt far better than anything I was used to. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I let myself relax fully as sleep pulled me back under.

I didn’t know how long I slept or why my body demanded so much rest, but I relished every moment of it. More than four uninterrupted hours was a luxury without the shattering of glass or the sound of Madre’s pleading voice begging him to leave me alone felt nothing short of heavenly.

I groaned as something shook the cloud I was on, like a roll of thunder breaking through the haze of sleep. Reluctantly, I rolled over onto my stomach and sighed into the soft pillow beneath my head, unwilling to let go of the fleeting comfort of rest.

A light laugh echoed nearby, followed by the eager voice of a little boy calling out, “Hey, sleepyhead! Wake up and come play with me!” His excitement tugged at the edges of my consciousness, but I stubbornly clung to the dream that had wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

“Go away,” I groaned again, my voice muffled against the pillow. I wasn’t ready to face reality yet. I had been dreaming about an old man who looked like me. His eyes were kind, filled with a knowing wisdom that felt safe. I also dreamed of a family that laughed and went on Sunday picnics together. A Daddy who played with me instead of yelling and breaking things.

The thought of waking up to the opposite made my stomach twist. I clung to the remnants of that dream, desperate to hold onto its warmth a little longer.

“I don’t think he realizes he’s on pack lands, Paul,” a woman said softly, her voice unfamiliar yet gentle.

That’s not my mom! The realization hit me like cold water, jolting me awake. My eyes snapped open as my heart skipped a beat. For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The voices around me felt too real to be part of my imagination—too vivid, too immediate. Besides, I didn’t think my dreams were that creative.

Sitting up, I took in my surroundings carefully. The first thing I saw was the soft, dark blue bedding tangled around my legs. It felt smoother and softer than anything I’d ever slept on. I blinked hard, trying to figure out where I was as a small boy, about my age, suddenly bounced onto the bed and startled me. I distantly remembered Kaden’s voice murmuring something about putting me to bed, but the rest was a blur.

A large open window led to an outside patio framed with sheer white curtains that danced lazily in the breeze. The warm wind carried the scent of clean air and wildflowers, so different from the stale, heavy air I’d grown used to. It felt fresh, almost cleansing, as it filled the room with a gentle energy.

Looking around, I finally spotted the source of the giggling. It was a small boy, holding a woman’s finger in his chubby hand while waving at me with his free one. His eyes caught my attention first—a strange mixture of blue and brown, swirling together like paint on a palette. They sparkled with happiness, and I felt something unfamiliar and unpleasant stir in my chest. Jealousy.

The realization made me want to cry. I didn’t want that darkness in me. I didn’t want to be like him. I didn’t want to follow Austin’s path, where bitterness ruled and ruined everything it touched.

The boy holding the woman’s hand pointed at me, his face lighting up with excitement. “Look! His hair is red, Mommy!”

She chuckled as her gaze shifted to me. “Sorry about Jake. His favorite color is red, so I think you’ve just become his new favorite person.”

Jake grinned wide, showing off a gap where his front tooth should’ve been. “Are you going to come play?”

Before I could respond, the older boy smirked mischievously and pounced onto the bed. For a moment, I froze, shocked that any kids would even come near me. Back in our old town, no one had ever asked me to do things with them—not even once.

“Yeah, come on, sleepyhead! Come play with us!” he begged, his voice full of energy.

I barely had time to react before his fingers dug into my sides, tickling me furiously. A squeal of laughter escaped before I could stop it, and I kicked at him instinctively from under the blankets. He yelped as he lost his balance and tumbled off the bed with a loud thud.

Heart racing, I crawled to the edge of the bed and peeked down, half-expecting tears or an angry glare. Instead, he was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard his face turned red.

Wasn’t he going to cry or something? I mean, I’m a Werewolf pup, so he should’ve gotten hurt, right?

“We are so going to be best friends now,” the boy said, grinning up at me from the floor. “You’ve been sleeping for two whole days! We get to meet the Luna Princess tonight, and you gotta hurry so we can go play and eat all the yummy snacks they’re going to serve!”

The woman scolded him gently, her tone firm but affectionate, before shooing the two boys out of the room. As she turned back to me, I instinctively scooted back, my heart racing. “No, please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

Worry flickered in her milk chocolate eyes as she scowled—not at me, but at my reaction. She smoothed the skirt of her dress under her as she sat down close to me, her movements slow and deliberate. “Trust me, honey, his little sisters do worse. Do you know where you are, sweetie?”

I shook my head, my voice trembling as I whispered, “I want mi Madre.”

“Mariana is helping with the Gathering,” she explained gently, her voice softening. “You don’t have to worry about hurting Paul or Jake, either. They’re pups, too. Just like you, they’re a lot stronger than Human children.”