EllaMy cheeks were still flushed from the moment of tension between us. Logan seemed genuinely hurt and offended that I implied that I didn’t believe him, and for reasons that I didn’t want to admit, I hated seeing him like that.So, stumbling over my words, I tried to mend the conversation. “Logan, I didn’t mean to imply that you were lying about your intentions. I just... I wondered if your original plan to actually take down the mafia would ever materialize.”He looked at me, his eyes softening. “Ella, I honestly hope it will. I can’t be entirely sure, but I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen. We have a contract, remember?”My eyes met his, filled with something like relief, mixed with a lingering note of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Logan. I really am.”He broke into a grin, shattering the intensity of the moment, and lightly punched my arm. “Hey, I’m pulling your leg. I’m not actually offended. I get it, you have every right to be wary. I am the son of a mob boss, afte

Logan I was eight years old. The walls of our house were cold and uninviting, filled with the scent of cigars and the persistent feeling of tension. My father’s office was the epitome of this atmosphere—a sanctuary of order and discipline. Mahogany desk, leather chair, and shelves teeming with meticulously arranged books. He sat at his desk with the stern posture that always intimidated me, his icy eyes scanning through documents on his laptop. “Dad, can we go to the fair? Matty and Greg are going with their families,” I said, barely containing my excitement. I clutched a crumpled flyer for the fair in my tiny hand, complete with pictures of cotton candy, carousels, and game booths. But my other hand was clenched nervously into a fist, my knuckles white with anticipation. Leonard’s gaze lifted from his computer and met my eager eyes. His face was like a chiseled statue, cold and unyielding. “A fair?” he sneered, as if the word itself was a blemish on his refined vocabula

Ella“The Ferris wheel?” I asked, cocking my head at Logan.Logan nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Yeah. Will you come with me?”Maybe out of the fear of getting closer to him, I blanched slightly at the prospect. “You know that’s the ride people either take their small children on or where couples go to make out, right?”I said, unable to hide a hint of blush that crept into my cheeks at the thought.Logan turned to me, his eyes mirroring the lights of the carnival. “Stop being such a downer, Ella. I promise I won’t try anything. I just want to see the city from up high. Don’t you?”Something in the way he said it—so earnest, so innocent—made me relent. “Okay,” I sighed. “Let’s go.”The cart—small, intimate, and barely large enough for the two of us—awaited as the Ferris wheel descended to greet us. Logan allowed me to step in first, a courteous gesture that both touched me and stoked the fire of conflicting emotions burning in my belly.As we ascended, the world below us shran

LoganThe drive to the restaurant the next morning was a tangled mess of tension and silence.Ella was visibly nervous, her hands darting to her hair every so often, running her fingers through the wavy strands as if that simple act could calm her racing heart. From where we sat in the back of our cab, I wanted to reach out and comfort her in some way.But after everything that had happened the night before, I was hesitant.“Don’t do it again,” she had said after I kissed her.It really wasn’t intentional. I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for the way that she looked so beautiful beneath the theme park lights, if it weren’t for the way that the powdered sugar stuck to her lips and made her look all the more sweet.My wolf had pulled me closer then, and I wasn’t able to resist. She had tasted just as sweet and delicious as she looked, and I could tell that she wanted to kiss me, too. But when we had pulled away, she was colder than ever.She was cold, too, on the balcony, even thou

EllaLogan took a deep breath, as if he were gathering the strength to lift a colossal weight.He glanced at me, his eyes carrying a quiet plea for understanding. There was nothing that I could do; we both knew that this moment was bound to come at one point or another, and in the most Edrick way possible, my father had decided that that moment would be right now.Something told me that my father already knew. In fact, I was almost certain of it. This was a test of Logan’s trustworthiness, his transparency about his life.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Logan met my father’s stare. “My father,” he began, his voice low and filled with an unmistakable sense of gravity, “is a mafia boss in our city.”My mom’s hand instantly shot up to her chest as she gasped, a look of disbelief etched across her face. “You’re joking,” she said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Very funny, Logan.”But Logan just shook his head slowly without saying a word, his gaze firmly