Page 26 of Pack Obsession

"Follow me," Logan says firmly, shoulders squared. He’s dressed in khaki pants and a matching deep forest green t-shirt tucked in. His dark brown hair is pushed off his face like he’s run his hands through the longer strands over the top of his head. He leads the way outside, saying over his shoulder, "We’ll start with basic defensive moves."

With the breakfast bowl in the sink, I quickly follow him, thankful I already showered and dressed. I had no idea training would start so soon. Or it could be that I’m not necessarily a morning person and it’s rough getting up this early.

The morning air hits my face, crisp and clean. Beyond the wraparound porch, the backyard opens up into what looks like a professional training ground. A massive metal shed dominates one side, its industrial-sized garage door closed. Training equipment dots the cleared space—weighted dummies, climbing ropes hanging from sturdy branches, and what appears to be a parkour setup with various heights of barriers.

But it’s the contrast that has my attention. Someone has strung fairy lights through the nearby trees. A rustic wooden table with benches sits near a professional-grade BBQ, as though this place can’t decide if it’s a special ops training facility or a cozy mountain retreat.

"What kind of wildlife do you get up here?" I ask, eyeing the dense tree line. The forest stretches endlessly in every direction.

Logan pauses, scanning the woods. "We get black bears, coyotes, and the occasional moose." His mouth quirks slightly. "Axel feeds the raccoons, though I’ve told him not to. Starting to think he’s building a small army of them."

"Sounds safe," I mutter sarcastically.

A low chuckle escapes him, the first real laugh I’ve heard from him. "With me, you’re safe." The words should be reassuring, but there’s something wary about how he says them. Like he’s imagining all the ways he could destroy anything that threatens what he protects.

"Now," he says, moving to the center of the cleared space. "First lesson. Someone grabs you from behind."

I follow him and join him, my stomach doing somersaults. Everything’s happening so fast. Twenty-four hours ago, I was alone, and now I’m living with a pack of strangers, promising to help them with a heist of all things. Me, who’s never even shoplifted candy as a kid. But they’re keeping me safe, giving me shelter, and this is the price. I can figure it out. I have to. Fake it till you make it, right? At least that’s what I keep telling myself, even as doubt gnaws at my insides. Though I consider myself lucky…

My brother, Kai, petitioned the court to become my guardian since he was nineteen when we lost our parents. He won, and I have lived with him since, while he worked. He says that one day, he will find an Omega to settle with. He even promised I could move in with them when that happened if I wanted.

I miss him, but soon I’ll find a way to contact him… hopefully once Nexus and Julian are off my back.

"Watch carefully," Logan says, positioning himself in front of me. The morning sun catches on the silver chain at his neck, drawing my eyes down to where it disappears beneath his top. The fabric stretches across his chest, and I find myself following the muscles underneath the eight-pack abs.

"Eyes are up here, sugar." His voice carries a hint of amusement.

Heat floods my cheeks. "I was just... analyzing potential weak points. You know, for the defense moves."

A smile spreads across his lips, then he lifts his arms slowly.

"An attacker comes in close, one arm here,"—his left hand crosses over his chest to his opposite shoulder—"and the other here." His right arm wraps around his own waist. The movement makes his muscles flex, and I catch myself staring at how his tank top molds to his muscles.

"Most make the mistake of pulling straight forward." He demonstrates, muscles tensing as he shows the instinctive reaction. "That’s what that attacker expects. That’s what gets you hurt." Something flickers in his steel-gray eyes, a memory, maybe, or a warning.

"Instead…" His body shifts, and suddenly, he’s all predator. His knees bend, lowering his frame in one smooth motion. "You drop your weight like you’re sinking into the earth." Then he moves, his right elbow cutting back through the air as his feet pivot, his entire body twisting away from an imaginary attacker. It’s like watching a cobra strike—beautiful and deadly. He turns to me, and there’s something dangerous in his grin that makes my pulse skip. "Simple enough, right, sugar?"

I twist the ends of my hair around my finger, trying to focus on the technique rather than how his muscles flex with each movement.

"If you say so."

He chuckles deeply, the sound echoing around us in the silent woods all while he moves behind me, and my breath wedges in my lungs.

"Your turn. I’ll go slow."

His arms encircle me, firm but careful. The scent of dark chocolate with a hint of cedar wood fills my senses. I fight to keep my voice steady.

"This seems a little hands-on for a first lesson."

"Life isn’t theoretical." His breath stirs the wisps of hair by my ear. "Now, remember what I showed you. Create space, then move."

I try to replicate his movement, but my elbow barely grazes his ribs.

"Again," he says. "Plant your feet wider. Feel the ground beneath you."

I adjust my stance, aware of how his chest presses against my back, of how large he is against me.

This time when I move, I manage to slip partly free, but his reflexes are faster. He counters, spinning me to face him, our faces inches apart as he leans down.

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