LOGAN: Alliance of Shadows, Book 2

First Meeting

The streets stretched out before us, their cobblestones glinting faintly under the midday sun. People bustled about in traditional clothing, their vibrant patterns blending seamlessly with the lively atmosphere. Some strolled leisurely, while others stationed themselves at vendor stalls, their tables brimming with handmade wares and colorful trinkets.

I wandered through the crowd, picking up a few carefully crafted souvenirs to bring home as gifts. The textures and craftsmanship spoke of a culture deeply rooted in tradition, and I couldn’t help but admire the artistry.

Jake’s excitement bubbled over as he spotted a group of donkeys ambling through the street. Their backs were weighed down with gear—bundles of supplies strapped securely—likely belonging to their traveling owners. His fascination with the animals brought a touch of lighthearted energy to the moment.

At the food stand where we stopped for lunch, I struck up a conversation with the adults running the stall. They were generous with their time, answering my questions with warm smiles and animated expressions. My curiosity paid off when they mentioned a wolf pack living nearby. Intrigued, I pressed for more details, and they kindly shared directions.

With our bellies full and excitement mounting, we climbed back into the van, Colton taking the wheel. The road ahead was quiet, lined with the occasional traveler or roadside vendor. As we neared a gated community, Colton slowed the van and pulled to a stop, his gaze fixed on the surroundings.

We stepped out of the van to stretch and take in the scenery around us. The valley spread before us in a breathtaking display of rolling hills, their emerald slopes dotted with clusters of trees and bursts of vibrant wildflowers. The air was fresh and carried the faint hum of life, setting a stark contrast to what happened next.

Two men emerged from the gated entrance, unlocking the barrier with deliberate precision. Their footsteps were measured as they approached our group, their guns leveled without hesitation. A wave of unease rippled through my friends, tightening their postures.

Anger flared in my chest as I sensed their fear. My growl echoed in the stillness, sharp and commanding. The men froze, their eyes snapping toward me, filled with shock. They edged closer cautiously, their gazes sweeping over me, taking in every inch of my appearance.

I held my ground and issued a crisp order, testing the extent of my Alpha authority. “Enough!” My voice cut through the tension, and I watched with satisfaction as the men faltered. Slowly, their heads bowed, and their weapons lowered, the change in their demeanor unmistakable.

The man closest to me lifted his head slightly, his voice calm but guarded. “State your business.”

“I am the only begotten son of Mariana Valencia Lopez,” I responded with measured calm, allowing the weight of my lineage to fill the space between us. One by one, I could sense the heartbeats around me steadying, the tension easing. “I wish to meet with the Alpha and Luna.”

A chuckle broke the silence as one of the men tilted his head toward his companion. “Alejandro, this kid thinks he can boss us around.”

I raised a brow, catching their mocking tone as they switched to Spanish. Without missing a beat, I countered, my voice steady and sharp. “You do realize I can understand everything that you guys are saying, right?”

Their narrowed gazes snapped to me in unison, surprise flashing across their faces. My smirk grew wider, and I let the moment linger, their disbelief serving as quiet confirmation of my dominance.

Colton stepped forward, placing himself squarely between me and the men, effectively blocking them from my view. “I’m Ambassador and Beta to the Alpha of the Shadow Storm pack,” he announced, his tone steady and authoritative. “We’ve come to find the family of the late Mariana Lopez, under the direction of Grand Alpha Henry Dane, so that Alpha Logan here can meet his mother’s family.”

The taller of the two men, introduced earlier as Alejandro, stiffened. His eyes narrowed as he questioned, “What do you mean by the ‘late’ Mariana Lopez?”

A flicker of unease passed through me as I realized they might not know about her passing. Then, an idea struck me. I remembered something only her family would recognize. Squaring my shoulders, I met Alejandro’s gaze. “Madre once told me about the time Perseo tried to make you eat a tadpole, Alejandro.”

The sneer on his face deepened as his hand, still gripping the gun, twitched. “You seem to know a lot for a gringo,” he said, his tone laced with suspicion.

Before I could respond, movement beyond the gate caught my eye. A pair of reddish-brown wolves trotted through, their steps calm yet deliberate. They were followed closely by an elderly couple, their presence commanding attention without a word spoken.

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth as her gaze locked onto me, her eyes widening with shock and emotion. Without hesitation, she grasped the man’s arm beside her, shaking it urgently. “Pedro, look! Our Mariana’s boy has come to us!” Her voice trembled, caught between disbelief and joy.

Alejandro turned toward her, his expression shifting as confusion clouded his face. “Mari’s boy, Aunt Grace?” he asked, his tone tinged with surprise.

“Sí, sí!” Abuela Grace exclaimed, the excitement rising in her voice. But in an instant, her joy turned to anger as her sharp gaze fell on the two guards. Her lips pressed into a hard line as she snapped, “Alejandro, Markus, what is the matter with you? Why are these people still standing out here in the sun, waiting to be invited inside? It’s hot enough to fry an egg on the road!”

Caught off guard, Alejandro stammered out a reply, his eyes flicking between Grace and the rest of us. “We didn’t know Mari had a child, Aunt Grace,” he said, his tone defensive but faltering under her piercing glare.

Grace growled in frustration, stomping her foot so forcefully that the sound seemed to echo against the gate. “Idiotas, both of you! How could you not see it? He looks just like her! Just look!” She gestured toward me, her voice rising as her indignation spilled over. “He shares her eyes and her red hair. Anyone with a brain could see he’s her child!”

“Nieto, come inside out of this heat,” Abuelo Pedro said, his smile warm and inviting. The word “grandson” caught me off guard, and it took me a moment to register its significance.

I straightened, meeting his gaze. “Not without the others,” I countered firmly, planting my stance in the dusty road. “I came all this way to meet my family as mi Madre would have wanted.”

Abuela Grace’s expression softened as she stepped toward me, her movements deliberate and filled with emotion. Kneeling before me, she wrapped me in a tight, almost desperate hug that spoke of years of longing.

“Logan,” she whispered, her fingertips lightly brushing over my face, tracing the features she’d dreamed of seeing. “Seeing you safe and alive brings me much comfort.”

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and replied, “Abuela, Madre taught me all she could, hoping that someday I’d have the chance to meet all of you. But I can’t stay. I made a promise to my adoptive family, and I have to honor it.”

She rose slowly, her hand remaining on my shoulder as we began walking toward a large building in the distance. The weight of her emotions was evident in her nod. “Sí, she wrote to me about you—just once, though. It was a beautiful letter. You are being cared for, sí?”

“Madre passed away the day I was adopted,” I said, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “The Grand Alpha and Grand Luna brought me into their family. They’ve cared for me as their own ever since.”

A sad smile flickered across Grace’s face, tinged with both sorrow and relief. “It is good that you have them,” she said softly, her voice carrying the quiet resignation of someone who wished for more but accepted what was.

Abuelo Pedro rested his hand lightly on my shoulder, his expression marked with quiet sorrow. “It’s upsetting that your Mami could not join you on the journey. Is it too hard for you to tell us what happened to her?”

My breath hitched as I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself before speaking. “She died because Austin broke the Mate bond,” I whispered, the pain of the memory pressing down like a weight. “He has been put on a Kill-On-Sight Rogue list.”

Pedro’s face twisted into a sneer, his tone sharp with barely restrained anger. “Good to know. I never liked that bastard. I said he was trouble from the start, and how right I was! Did I not say he was trouble, Grace?”

A few hours later, after the initial shock of the reunion had settled, Abuela Grace took center stage to formally introduce us to the pack. Her pride was evident in her voice as she spoke, presenting us as long-lost pieces of the family’s heritage.

Afterward, my Great-Aunt Theresa approached me, pulling me aside with an inviting smile. Her presence carried the quiet authority of someone deeply rooted in family history. As we talked, she shared stories that peeled back layers of the past. Through her, I learned that Raymundo, my ancestor, had a child with a she-wolf after his first wife passed. That wolf, my original Red River ancestor, was his True Mate.