apter 110
Logan
The door clicked shut behind her, soft as a feather, but it might as well have slammed.
The air still carried her scent and it kept me frozen in the middle of the room, heart thudding against my ribs like it hadn’t figured out she was gone.
I’d kissed her like a man losing his grip. Like a man who didn’t trust words to hold her.
And she hadn’t pulled away.
But that didn’t make it right.
I sank into the nearest chair, elbows braced on my knees, hands dragging over my face like pressure might slow the thoughts stampeding through my skull.
I didn’t regret the kiss.
Not the press of her lips, not the way she’d leaned into me like she needed it too. That part was branded into me now. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel her fingers clutching my shirt.
What I regretted–what hollowed out my chest now–was the desperation behind it.
I’d kissed her like I was afraid. Like I needed proof she hadn’t already chosen someone else. And maybe I did.
Because seeing her with Michael had unraveled something in me. Thadn’t expected that. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding the idea of her choosing me until the possibility that she wouldn’t drove me half mad.
And now? Now all I could think about was the look in her eyes when I asked if she was going back to him. Not rage. Not tenderness.
Just hesitation.
She hadn’t said no right away. She hadn’t promised anything at all
And who could blame her? I hadn’t made it easy to trust me. I’d kept her at arm’s length when it mattered, offered control instead of comfort, duty instead of devotion.
And still, gods help me, I wanted her.
Not because she made sense for the Pack. Not because she calmed my office or smiled for the press.
She made me feel like I wasn’t just a title. Like I could be something else. Something more.
I leaned back in the chair, staring up at the carved ceiling. The room felt too quiet without her in it.
I hated this. I hated not knowing what the right move was.
If I pulled her closer, I might push her away. If I gave her space, she might walk for good.
And underneath it all, I hated the question creeping up in my chest: Why did it matter this much?
echo had gone flat.
She wasn’t mine. Not officially. Not emotionally. But I felt like I was already losing something that hadn’t even been offered.
It would be easier if I could feel the bond. If she could. Then we’d know. There’d be no question of what we were or where we belonged. But she was dormant, and I was drowning in possibilities.
And I couldn’t ask her to stay if she didn’t choose it herself.
I rubbed at my jaw, the kiss still buzzing beneath my skin.
What would it mean to let her go? Not force her hand. Not press my will into hers. Just open the door and see if she walked back
Chapter 110
through it.
It was the one thing I’d never learned how to do.
Let go.
But if I didn’t… It I kept making choices for her instead of with her
I’d lose her anyway.
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I stood slowly; I needed to do something. Anything. I needed to get back to my office. To work. To numbers and maps and plans that made sense.
Because Emily did not make sense.
And gods help me, I was starting to realize that nothing that mattered ever really did..
By morning the summit was over and I buried myself in work.
My desk was covered in black ink and red annotations, and I was on my third cup of coffee–strong enough to strip paint- before the sun had even cleared the windows.
Anything to keep my hands busy. Anything to avoid thinking about the way Emily looked at me last night–not frightened, not angry. Just… uncertain.
If she’d been furious, I could’ve fought it. If she’d been afraid, I could’ve reassured her. But uncertainty? That was a void I couldn’t fill with power or planning.
So, I turned to paperwork. To signatures and seals and logistics that didn’t hesitate when I touched them.
But even that didn’t help for long. Everything I looked at reminded me of her.
A margin note in sharp handwriting on a legal draft–hers. A color–coded file structure in our Pack records–that had been her idea. A stack of petitions I was only reading because she’d flagged them as “more important than they look.”
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight. Outside, the estate grounds were quiet. Too early for political visitors, too late to pretend this was just another day.
Then the envelope arrived.
Hand–delivered. Marked with a discreet Titanfang seal. An internal security dispatch that didn’t go through regular channels.
I broke the wax and unfolded the single–page message inside.
Chloe has been contracted as a junior advisor for Eldrin & Vale, a consulting firm recently renewed un
infrastructure network.
Contract was finalized three days ago. She starts Monday.
Position grants access to Level 2 communications archives and regional supply chain data.
aniang’s auxiliary
I read it twice. Then a third time.
Chloe. Back in my network. Through back channels, paper trails, and business contracts.
She was threading herself back in where I wouldn’t immediately see her. And if I hadn’t asked my liaison for a quiet update on all new auxiliary hires, I might not have known until it was too late
I set the page down slowly, my fingers still curled tight around the edge.
She wasn’t subtle. She never had been.
So, this had to be someone else’s move. Reid maybe?
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Or maybe Chloe had simply decided that if she couldn’t control Enly with gossip and leaked photos, she’d try numbers and influence instead.
And Emily–gods. Emily had no idea.
The thought of Chloe watching her again, finding ways to destabilize her from the shadows, made my stomach knot. I couldn’t let that happen.
But the moment I started yanking strings, Chloe would know I’d seen her. She’d know I was watching, and she’d adapt.
I couldn’t just shut her out. I had to outmaneuver her. And I had to do it without making Emily feel like I was playing puppet master again.
Because that’s what I kept circling back to. The question that wouldn’t leave me alone since last night.
Was protecting Emily just another way of controlling her? And if I kept making decisions for her–even the right ones–was I giving her the freedom she needed… or making it easier for her to leave?
I didn’t know.
But I was starting to think the only way she’d ever stay–really stay–was if I stopped trying to hold her.
And started showing her she didn’t have to run.
Not from me. Not from us.
Just from the parts of her past that still believed she was only ever someone else’s pawn. Or a liability.
I wanted to prove she was more than that. Even if I never got to keep her.
What would it mean to let her go? Not force her hand. Not press my will in
