Logan's POV
The office smells like cheap air freshener and bad decisions. It's too cold—like someone cranked the AC up to "meat locker" settings—and the dim fluorescent lights buzz faintly, making my skin crawl. I'm a werewolf, the cold never bothered me anyways, but the place makes me feel like I should've worn a jacket.
Or maybe I should've stayed the hell away from Eastvale altogether.
Fenrir growls and yeah, he's right. Running again won't do.
'You're good at running when you're uncomfortable.'
Noah knows me too well. But the old me is gone.
I left because I had a big break and I didn't want the doping scandal to affect me, because I was going to leave anyways and not wanting to be Logan Whitaker 'mate to a cheat' was a good enough excuse. But Noah was framed, playing for the Shadows was never worth his happiness and I… I was horrible to him. The only thing I should be doing right now is getting down on my knees and begging for his forgiveness. But where do I even start? How can I even start? I selfishly left him during the worst time of his life when he was pregnant with my baby and now I'm hoping for his forgiveness even though I know I don't deserve it.
Fuck, no wonder Noah hates me.
"Having second thoughts?"
I look up to see Alfred sitting across from me, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he flips through a mountain of paperwork. The old manager looks exactly how I remember him—exhausted, stressed, and somehow still humming with energy.
"Just letting the ink warm."
He smiles and pushes the contract closer to me, making sure it's open on the last page. I've read the thing before, gone over it with both my lawyer and manager and signed a digital copy, this is just a formality.
"Sign here," he says, tapping the paper with his pen. "And welcome back to the Coyotes, Logan."
I hesitate, the pen feeling heavier than it should in my hand.
Fenrir growls low in my chest. No more running, he rumbles.
Noah's hazel eyes flash in my mind, sharp and burning with anger. He hasn't forgiven me. Hell, I wouldn't forgive me either if I were in his shoes. But here I am, two years too late, trying to piece together something I shattered with my own two hands.
I have to try.
My stomach twists as I scrawl my name across the line. The pen squeaks against the paper, finalizing what feels like a deal with the devil.
"Great!" Alfred claps his hands together, startling me out of my thoughts. "It's good to have you back, kid. No place like home, huh?"
I force a smile. "Yeah. Home sweet home."
Alfred grins like he doesn't catch the sarcasm in my voice. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course, it's a shame you won't be here for long."
His words hit me like a curveball to the gut. "What do you mean?"
Alfred raises a brow, looking genuinely surprised. "You didn't know? The Coyotes are being sold."
My heart drops. "What?"
Alfred sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's tired of repeating himself. "The owners have been bleeding money for years. No one's interested in a small-town team with a mediocre record and a roster full of omegas. They finally managed to find a buyer—deal's set to close in three months."
Three months.
I stare at him, the words sinking in like lead. "The Coyotes are tied to Eastvale," I argue, my voice sharper than I intend. "They can't just be sold. This team is part of this town."
Alfred gives me a tired smile. "Logan, you've been out of the loop too long. You know how this world works. Supernatural sports are a spectacle. Humans pay big bucks to watch us chase our tails and catch balls. Screw Eastvale pride. This is about dollars and cents. Money talks and the Coyotes aren't bringing any in."
"But—"
The Coyotes can't be sold. I'm supposed to stay on with them for at least a year while I heal. If I have a year, maybe I'll be able to make good progress with patching things up with Noah. Maybe I could get to know Oliver. But three months? That's too soon? What if the new owners renegotiate my contract and put me in a position where my manager forces me to return to the Shadows? What if I'm torn to shreds by the press because I can't seem to stick to one team for long? And, worst of all, what if Noah loses his job and he has to move and I never see him and my son again?
Three months is not enough time. Not enough time to fix what I broke, not enough time to prove to Noah that I'm not the same selfish alpha who left him. I can't lose him again—not before I've even had the chance to try.
"You can't just—"
Alfred holds up a hand, cutting me off. "Look, you shouldn't be so worried. The new owners will probably keep you on. You're Logan Whitaker, after all. But me and Noah? We're not exactly assets worth keeping. That's just the reality of it."
I glance over at Noah, who's sitting quietly in the corner of the office, his arms crossed and his jaw tight. His eyes are wide, panicked, and for the first time in a very long time, he looks… small. Vulnerable.
"You knew about this?" I ask, my voice low.
Noah flinches, like I've slapped him. "I—I knew," he stammers, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. His voice is barely above a whisper, but it's tight with panic. "But I thought I had more time. Three months… that's not enough.
He's spiraling. His hands grip the edge of the desk, his knuckles white. He mutters under his breath, too fast for me to catch everything, but I pick up snippets. "Savings won't last… what about Oliver… I'll have to start looking for a new job now…"
Fenrir whines in my chest, the sound sad and full of longing. I can't stand seeing him like this. The Noah I remember was strong, steady, always in control. Now, he looks like he's barely holding it together— lost, panicking, breaking apart at the seams. My wolf urges me to do something, anything, to fix it.
"I can help," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "If it's money—"
"No," Noah snaps, cutting me off with a glare. "I don't want your help, Logan. I don't want anything from you."
His words sting, but I can't blame him.
Alfred clears his throat, breaking the tension. "Look," he says, his tone softer now. "I don't like this any more than you do. But my hands are tied. The board wants to sell, and I'm out of bargaining chips."
"There has to be something," I say, my voice desperate.
Alfred leans back in his chair, tapping a finger against his lips. He's quiet for a long moment, and then he smirks. "Well… there is one thing."
I lean forward, my pulse quickening. "What is it?"
Alfred's smirk widens. "The regional tournament. The Golden Sun. If we win, I might be able to convince the board to hold off on the sale. Show them the Coyotes still have some fight left."
The Golden Sun. My chest tightens. I know that tournament all too well. The last time the Coyotes won it was two years ago. My last game with the team.
And the game that ruined Noah's life.
"The tournament starts in two weeks," Alfred continues. "If we can win it, I can buy us some time. But it's a long shot."
"We'll do it," I say immediately.
Noah's head snaps toward me, his hazel eyes narrowing. "We will?"
Fenrir growls approvingly, his tail wagging. Pack will fight. Mate will see we do not run.
"Yes," I say firmly, turning to Alfred. "Deal?"
Alfred grins and sticks out his hand. "Deal."
We shake, and he stands, brushing his hands off like the matter is settled. "It's good to see this fire in you, Logan. Welcome back."
He walks out, leaving me alone with Noah.
I turn to him, ready to say something—anything—but his chair is empty.