LOGAN: Alliance of Shadows, Book 2

Friendship's Pull

I woke up in my bed, my head pounding like a drum. The lingering ache made my stomach churn, twisting uncomfortably as I lay still, the sensation heavy and oppressive. For a moment, I thought I might be sick again, and the thought filled me with dread. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, willing the discomfort to pass, but it clung to me stubbornly, refusing to ease. I didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

I didn’t want to feel anything at all—not the ache in my head or the twisting in my stomach, not the weight pressing down on my chest. Even the hazy morning light creeping in around the edges of my eyelids felt like too much to face. It was easier to stay still, eyes closed, ignoring the world beyond my bed. If I could just keep everything out, maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with it. Maybe I could just stay in the fragile cocoon of sleep a little longer, where the harshness of reality couldn’t reach me.

The quiet creak of the bedroom door opening caught my attention despite myself. The sound pulled me out of my feigned detachment, coaxing me back to the moment against my will. It was followed by the soft click of it closing, and then the faint shift of the mattress as it dipped slightly under someone’s weight. I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to surrender entirely, unwilling to face the light or the effort of speaking.

“Madre?” I called out, my voice dry and raspy, the single word escaping almost involuntarily.

“Guess again, Logan,” came the cheerful voice of Paul.

I cracked one eye open, despite the throbbing pain in my head, and glared half-heartedly at him. His grin stretched across his face, wide and mischievous. “Please tell me this is not going to be one of your habitual things?”

Paul tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting together in confusion. “My... what?” His mouth twisted as he tried to puzzle it out. “What does that word mean?”

“Habitual,” I repeated, shifting my weight and pushing myself upright. My movements were slow, the pounding in my head reminding me to take it easy. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes before adding, “It means something that you do regularly.”

His face darkened as he glowered at me. “Nerd.”

I couldn’t help but grin, despite myself. “I’d rather have a brain and muscles than muscles and no brain,” I said quickly, the teasing edge in my voice not lost on him.

Paul huffed, shaking his head. He picked up a small tray I hadn’t noticed before and handed it over. The faint aroma of scrambled eggs and toast wafted up, making my stomach twist again despite the hunger building inside me. Madre must have asked him to bring me breakfast before we went out to play.

Being called a nerd was nothing new to me. Over the last few years, I’d learned to see it as a compliment rather than an insult. It reminded me that I had something to offer—my intelligence—even if others didn’t always appreciate it.

Unexpectedly, Paul burst into a fit of giggles, his laughter filling the room. “This is so cool. Does this mean I can ask you to help me with my homework?”

I bit back a laugh at his enthusiasm. He stared at me, eyes wide and hopeful, practically bouncing in place.

“Fine,” I finally said.

His face lit up with excitement, and the grin he wore widened even more. “Awesome!”

“Yeah, but I’m not doing the work for you,” I snorted, leaning back against the headboard. The memories of my old school surfaced. It was when I’d learned the hard way to set boundaries and not let others take advantage of me.

Paul rolled his eyes dramatically as he got to his feet, his energy undeterred. He wandered around my room, his gaze sweeping over the blank walls. “I never said you had to. But seriously, why don’t you have any pictures or posters up yet?”

I pushed back the covers and got up, the lingering ache in my stomach forcing me to move slowly. My first thought was to make my bed so Mami wouldn’t have to—she did enough already. Pulling the covers tight, I glanced over at the dresser and sighed. The room was neat, almost sterile, with crisp white walls and furniture that felt untouched.

Looking around, I finally saw what Paul meant. It was too perfect, I admitted to myself. “I wouldn’t even know where to start or what to put up.” I hesitated before adding, “I don’t even own any pictures or posters.”

As I got dressed, I kept an eye on Paul. He was rocking back and forth on his feet, something that made him seem less sure of himself than usual. He finally spoke, his voice quieter than normal, “Hey, Logan, about the Gathering...”

I froze, watching him carefully. His nervousness was clear, and that made my own unease grow. “What happened?”

Paul backed away slightly sitting down under the window ledge by the bed, his movements hesitant. My stomach twisted tighter, and I knew whatever he was about to say wasn’t good.

“Um, Maria almost died last night,” he said slowly, the words seeming to stick in his throat. “One of the adults found her by a stream just a little way from where Kaden found you.”

Fear gripped me instantly, sharp and overwhelming. My chest tightened, and I felt cold. Something bad had happened, just like I thought it would. Except…except now, I was hoping no one blamed me for what went down with Maria.

“Logan, it’s not your fault, so don’t look like that,” Paul muttered, his voice firm but soft. My eyes snapped to him, taking in the way he stood with his shoulders tense, like he was bracing for my reaction.

“Is she okay?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay calm. “Paul, is Maria going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied softly, his tone steady but subdued. “Doctor Kade is with her right now.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Logan, how did you know where to look?”

Anger flickered through me as I felt tears well up in my eyes. I hated crying—especially in front of other people. I scrubbed the tears away roughly, the movement fueled more by frustration than anything else. Turning to face him fully, I shrugged, my movements sharp and defensive. “I don’t know, Paul.”

He gave me a skeptical look, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t press me right away. Finally, throwing up my hands, I let out an exasperated sigh. “I felt like something was pulling me in that direction, okay? It hurt so much, though, like stepping on a rusty nail kind of hurt.”

Paul grimaced, his nose scrunching up as he shook his head. “That sounds painful.”

“It was,” I replied flatly, the memory of the ache still fresh in my mind. Not wanting to dwell on it any longer, I reached over and dug a book out of my backpack, flipping it to the last page I’d been working on.

Paul leaned over my shoulder, his curiosity piqued. “Are you seriously doing homework right now, Logan?” he groaned, exasperated. “You really are a nerd.”

“Yup,” I answered without looking up, my tone casual and unconcerned.

Again, he stared at me before letting out a dramatic sigh of defeat. His shoulders slumped as if the effort of waiting was too much to bear. I relaxed a little as he fell quiet, grateful for the moment of peace to finish my math. My relief, however, was short-lived.

“Are you done yet?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop myself. “Would it kill you to have some patience?”

He blinked at me, his expression a mix of innocence and mischief. “I’m seven, Logan.”

“So am I,” I replied, keeping my tone steady. “Besides, I only have a few more problems left, then we can go.”

Reluctantly, he leaned back and watched me as I worked through the last few equations. His gaze felt heavy, like he was silently willing me to go faster. Finally, I closed the book with a small but satisfying snap. “All done!”

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath, his tone exasperated but lighthearted.

Paul followed me out of my room and down the hall to the top of the stairs. We both froze as the sharp sound of something breaking echoed through the house. The noise reverberated around us, making my stomach clench. I glanced at Paul when his grip on my arm tightened. His fingers dug in slightly, and his wide eyes, filled with fear, searched mine as if hoping I had an answer for what was happening.

My father’s angry voice rose from somewhere below, cutting through the tense silence that had followed. I felt a chill run through me, the coldness seeping into my chest. Turning to Paul, I whispered, “How did you get into my room?”

“Your mom let me in,” he whispered back, his voice barely audible. He hesitated for a beat before adding softly, “Your dad shouldn’t be doing that to your mom.”

His words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment, I could only nod in agreement, my throat too tight to speak.

We moved quietly down the stairs, careful not to draw attention. My heartbeat thundered in my ears with every step. As soon as we slipped into the living room, I led Paul toward the patio door, my hand gripping his arm now. The urgency of getting him out before my father noticed had taken over my every thought.

Once we stepped outside, the tension in my body eased slightly. The fresh air hit my face, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I glanced at Paul, who looked just as relieved as I felt, though the fear still lingered in his eyes.