Logan's POV
A thousand miles away from home, over fifteen hours on the road and one unrestful night in a hotel room and here I am, with Rowan and Caleb in San Diego.
The Den sits before us, all gleaming stone and shiny steel. Its spires cut into the sky, shadowing the plaza below where thousands of werewolves from packs all over the country walk and interact. The air is thick with scents— earth, pine, smoke, fur, food and drink. Being back in the city again is a trip. It's always been a melting pot of Lycan's from different packs, the same way New Carthage is for humans. I don't doubt that I'll run into my old Shadows teammates while I'm here. Do I want to? Fuck no. But I know better than anyone that I don't have the best of luck.
I miss home.
