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I exchange a quick glance with Quinn, feeling his caution through our bond. “Not really,” I reply, my tone casual but firm. “As I said, it’s early in the process. We prefer to keep these matters private until things are more concrete.”
Quinn leans forward, his expression neutral. “Every pack has its own way of handling growth and change. We are just taking our time to ensure any decisions align with our pack’s needs.”
Logan nods slowly, his gaze moving between us. “I see. Well, I hope whatever you’re considering works out for the best.”
Zane remains silent, his eyes narrowed slightly as he observes Logan’s reaction. I can sense his approval of our discretion.
I offer a noncommittal smile, steering the conversation in a different direction. “Enough about pack business. Tell us more about your travels, Logan. You mentioned you’ve been a lone wolf for a while. Any interesting stories from the road?”
Just then, Dash bounds over to the table, his energy infectious as always. “Hey, guys. Did you see the show? It’s a damn shame Aria had to leave.”
I tense slightly at the mention of Aria’s name, my senses immediately on alert. A pang of worry shoots through me. I should have insisted on picking her up. What if she’s in trouble? Dash’s excitement is clouding his usual discretion, but I can’t shake my unease about Aria’s absence.
“Oh? What happened to Aria?” Logan asks, leaning forward with sudden interest. His eyes seem to light up at her name. “She sounds special. How long have you known her?” His gaze flicks between us, as if searching for something specific in our responses.
Dash just shrugs, grabbing a pretzel. “Something came up, I guess. No biggie.” I silently will Dash to stop there, but he freaking continues, oblivious to my concerns. “I’ll just catch up with her later at home.”
Fuck.
Logan’s eyebrows shoot up, a mix of emotions flashing across his face too quickly to read. “She lives with you?” he asks, his voice oddly strained. He seems to catch himself, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s…nice. Must be great to have someone like that around.”
“It’s a temporary arrangement,” I interject quickly, trying to downplay the situation. “Nothing unusual about friends helping each other out.”
I shoot Dash a warning look, hoping he will pick up on my discomfort through our bond. To my relief, I feel a flicker of understanding from him.
“Right, yeah.” Dash nods, finally catching on. “Just crashed on the couch for a bit. You know how it is.”
Logan opens his mouth to respond, but his phone chimes, cutting him off. He glances at it, his expression flickering between emotions too quickly for me to read. “Sorry,” he mutters, pocketing the device. “Just…old ghosts.” He laughs, but it sounds hollow, forced. I can’t help but wonder what demons he’s running from. “Anyway,” he continues, his tone suddenly light, “sounds like you guys are close.”
I force a casual shrug, even as my mind races. We’ve revealed too much already. I need to steer this conversation away from Aria and our pack dynamics before Logan pieces together more than we want him to know.
“Close enough to help out a friend in need,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Let’s not bore Logan with our domestic arrangements. How about another round?” I gesture to our empty glasses, hoping to change the subject.
Logan’s gaze darts between us, his smile a touch too wide, his laugh a beat too late. There’s an eagerness in his eyes that borders on desperation, as if he’s trying too hard to fit in. His smile is all charm and warmth, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Another round sounds great,” he says, his tone light but somehow hollow. “Next round is on me.”
As Logan heads to the bar, I exchange quick glances with my packmates. Through our bond, I sense a mix of emotions—Dash’s lingering excitement, Quinn’s curiosity, and Zane’s simmering suspicion. We need to be more careful with our words.
When Logan returns with a tray of drinks, he seems eager to steer the conversation in a new direction. “So tell me more about how you all met. It’s not often you see such a tight-knit group.”
I take a sip of my drink, buying time to consider my response. How much should we reveal about our history? I set my glass down, meeting Logan’s gaze with a measured look. “You know how it is in our world,” I say, my tone casual but guarded. “Paths cross and connections are formed. We found we worked well together and shared similar values. Over time, those connections deepened into something more.”
Quinn nods, picking up on my cue. “It wasn’t any one moment, really. More of a gradual realization that we were stronger together than apart.”
“Yeah, man,” Dash chimes in, his usual enthusiasm tempered by a glance in my direction. “Sometimes the right people just find each other, you know?”
Zane remains silent, but I feel his approval through our bond. We’ve given Logan an answer without really revealing anything specific about our pack’s formation or individual histories.
“Interesting,” Logan muses, his eyes moving between us. “Sounds like fate brought you all together.”
I shrug, offering a noncommittal smile. “Fate, circumstances, mutual benefit—call it what you will. In the end, what matters is the pack we’ve built.”
“All right.” Logan nods, poking his tongue in his cheek. “Shots and beer all around,” he begins to grab shots from the tray he got with our drinks.
Dash begins to hand out shots, and Logan pours beer while the DJ begins a new set.
“To Clarke pack,” Logan says, raising his glass. “I can’t wait to get to know you guys even more.” He throws back his shot, and we all follow suit.
As the night progresses, a subtle change comes over me. My reactions seem slightly delayed, and the lights appear a touch brighter than before. I attribute it to fatigue and the drinks, but as the hour wears on, an unusual lethargy settles into my bones. There’s something off about how quickly it’s affecting us all.
