LOGAN: Alliance of Shadows, Book 2

Desperate Pleas, Silenced Voices

He finally noticed me and grabbed my arm roughly, his grip tight enough to make me wince. The pain shot through my arm, and I knew it would bruise—deep, dark marks that wouldn’t fade for days. If Madre had to take me to the clinic because of this, I knew she’d ask me to lie about what happened. She always did. But I didn’t want to lie. I wanted to tell everyone. I wanted them to know what he was doing to us.

I just didn’t know if anyone would listen.

With a brutal shove, he pushed Madre aside, her body crumpling into the wall. Then he yanked open the storage room door. His hand tightened painfully around my arm as he dragged me across the floor, his movements harsh and unrelenting. Before I could say anything, he threw me into the room with such force that I stumbled and fell to my knees.

Scrambling to my feet, I rushed to the door just as it slammed shut, the sound echoing in the tight, suffocating space. My heart pounded as I pounded on the door. “Let me out!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of my panic.

“Stay in there, pest,” he snapped back, his voice cutting like a whip. “I don’t want you running off to spread your stories like you did before. Now, I can deal with my disgrace of a Mate.”

Tears streamed down my face as I heard his heavy footsteps retreating. The floor creaked under his weight, the sound lingering like a threat. Then Madre’s scream ripped through the silence, piercing and desperate.

“Stop, please!” she begged, her voice breaking into sobs.

“I’ll give you ‘stop,’ Mariana. I’ll make sure you never disobey me again!” he growled, his voice fading as he moved further away.

The distant sound of flesh meeting flesh reached my ears, and my heart sank. He was hitting her again. Desperation clawed at my chest as I beat my fists against the door, each strike harder than the last. I didn’t register the pain until I saw blood streaking my knuckles, the sharp sting cutting through my fury and fear. Tears streamed down my face, and I cried out for mi Madre until my throat burned, my voice raspy and broken.

After what felt like hours, the house fell silent. The weight of the quiet pressed down on me, suffocating and ominous. His stomping steps echoed through the halls as he moved from room to room, his presence lingering like a shadow. Then came the slam of the front door, loud and final, marking his departure.

Exhaustion weighed heavy on my eyelids, but I refused to sleep. I couldn’t rest until I knew Madre was okay. The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint creak of the house settling under the cold.

Then, a thud echoed from the wall near the entry, jolting me upright. Something—or someone—had fallen against it. Pressing my hands against the door, I leaned in and whispered, “Mami?”

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open as Madre collapsed into the room. Her body hit the floor, fresh bruises blooming across her skin. Cuts marred her arms and face, the blood dark against her pale complexion. My tears came faster, and I dropped to my knees beside her, sobbing as she pulled me into her trembling embrace. Her own cries mixed with mine, the sound filling the room with heartbreak and anguish.

“He is gone again, Logan,” she said softly, her voice trembling as she rocked me in her arms. “Did he hurt you, my baby?”

I nodded against her shirt, biting my lip to hold back more tears. “My shoulder hurts, Mami.”

“Oh, my precious,” her voice cracked as her fingers gently touched the spot I’d mentioned. I flinched, and she sighed, the sound heavy with relief. “It is not broken, thank the Goddess. You know what we must do, mi precioso corazón.”

When I hugged her a little tighter, she gasped, the sharp intake of breath cutting through the air. My heart jumped as I pulled back, searching her face. “Mami, what’s wrong?”

“I think he may have broken something this time, Logan,” she murmured, her words barely above a whisper.

“I can get the doctor,” I offered quickly, panic rising as I watched her wince with every small movement.

Madre shook her head firmly, her expression tinged with worry. “No! We must not let any more men come in here. He was angry that Beta Colton came to get his children instead of his Mate. We must not make him worse. He may still be out there.”

“But, Mami!” I protested, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions.

“No, Logan,” she pleaded, her tone soft but firm. Calming herself, she held me close, even as she struggled to her feet. “I will rest for a few days. I am a grown wolf, Logan. I will heal. In the morning, we will go to the clinic and have the doctor check your arm, okay?”

Her words were meant to soothe me, but they only echoed in my head alongside Uncle Stephen’s. I knew he was right—I knew everyone who said Madre and I didn’t have to live like this was right. But still, doubt lingered like a shadow. I was just a Runt, physically smaller than my friends. Could my voice really change anything? Would anyone listen?

I was tired of the fear, tired of the bruises, tired of his rage that left scars on both our bodies and hearts. I clenched my fists, determination burning away the doubt. Something had to change. Madre and I couldn’t keep living like this.

Pulling out of her grasp, I scowled up at her, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. “Mami, Luna Izzy said that if he hurts us, we should tell her. She said she’ll protect us by kicking him out of the pack, Madre. We don’t have to live in fear.”

She sobbed, her voice trembling with exhaustion and pain. “Hopefully, he will leave for a few more months, and we can breathe a little easier, Logan.”

“Mami, he might not stop next time, though!” I argued, desperation tightening my chest.

“Logan, please,” she soothed, brushing her hand gently through my hair. “I know that you are frightened, but I also know you are wise beyond your years. If he comes again like this, you must get out of the house. You must not let him hurt you, Logan.”

“I can’t leave you!” The words burst out of me, my voice breaking with emotion.

Shaking her head, she wiped the tears from her face, though her hands trembled slightly. Her gaze locked onto mine, intense and unwavering. “I need you to be strong, Logan. Next time he does this, go to the packhouse as fast as you can, alright? You must not let him get you. I would rather die than lose you to his cruelty.”

Her words sent ice coursing through my veins, numbing me in place. “But, Mami, I don’t want you to die! Who’s going to take care of me if he does that? Mami, please? Let’s go to the packhouse and tell them now.” My voice was trembling, but the urgency behind it burned.

Her expression softened, yet her resolve remained firm. “He may be waiting out there in the dark for me to run with you, mi Hijo. I can’t risk it.”

She spoke with a fierce certainty, her love so palpable it filled the room like a weight pressing on my chest. Madre was more than willing to lay her life down to protect me, but I didn’t want that to happen. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her—not my beloved mother.

She looked better when I saw her the morning after—less bruised, though her movements were slow and careful as her body worked to heal. When she reached for my arm and gently checked it, her face fell, and she shook her head with a weary sadness.

“Oh, Mio Dios,” she muttered under her breath. “Logan, come eat your breakfast. After that, I must take you to the clinic. I know it hurts, but the doctor will make it all better, okay?”

Her attempt to comfort me felt warm but fragile, laced with the same exhaustion she always carried after Austin’s visits. After we ate in silence, she helped me into my coat and boots and took my hand firmly in hers. Together, we made our way to the big white building on the far side of the territory. As we stepped inside, the smell of antiseptic and cool air made my stomach churn slightly.

The nurse at the desk glanced up, her face tightening into a frown. Her expression wasn’t unfamiliar. Everyone here knew who we were—some with sympathy, others with disdain. The latter were far more common. “Can I help you?” she asked flatly.

“My son,” Mami said, her voice steady despite her nerves. “He hurt his arm.”

“Is that right? Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” The nurse’s tone was cold, her eyes rolling as she sat back in her chair. The apathy in her words made heat rise in my cheeks.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the tension. “Is that you, Logan?”

I turned quickly, relief flooding me as I saw Aunt Eileen, one of the few people I trusted. “Oui,” I answered, my voice small but steady.

“Oh, dear, what happened?” Her gaze softened as she hurried over to us, her attention shifting to Mami. “Mariana, please tell me,” she pleaded, her tone gentle and genuine.

Mami hesitated, licking her lips nervously. “Well, uh, Austin came home yesterday,” she began. Her eyes darted away briefly before she continued. “He wasn’t as angry this time, but Logan stumbled down the stairs at the house.”

Aunt Eileen gasped, her face clouding with concern. Her touch was warm, a stark contrast to the nurse’s indifference. “I will take Logan to see Doctor Kade straight away.”