The underground garage lights flickered as Logan read the message again. Aria's betrayal cut deeper than any claw. Elara squeezed his hand, her touch the only thing keeping the beast from ripping the car door off.
"We can't stay here," he said, voice low and dangerous. "The pack knows every safe house. Victor's probably already moving."
Elara's heart raced, but she kept her voice steady. "Then we go on the offensive. No more running. You have allies who haven't turned—call them."
Logan looked at her, golden eyes softening for a split second amid the storm. "You're not supposed to be this brave. You're supposed to be the normal one I protect."
She smiled faintly, leaning over the console to brush her lips against his. "Too late. I'm all in, claws and all."
The kiss ignited fast—hot, desperate, his hand tangling in her hair as the beast purred approval. But headlights swept the garage entrance. No time.
They sped out in the armored Maybach, Lagos streets blurring past. Logan's knuckles were white on the wheel, claws half-extended, scratching the leather.
Halfway to the city outskirts, the ambush hit. Two black vans boxed them in. Gunfire erupted. Bullets pinged off reinforced glass.
"Hold on!" Logan roared.
He swerved hard, clipping one van. Elara gripped the seat, adrenaline surging. In the rearview, she saw armed figures—pack members she recognized from the villa fight—leaping out.
Logan slammed the brakes and exploded from the car, claws fully out with a deadly snikt. "Stay inside!"
But Elara wasn't staying. She grabbed the emergency gun from the glovebox (Logan had shown her how) and slipped out the passenger side. One traitor spotted her and charged.
She fired. The shot grazed his arm. He snarled and shifted partially—eyes glowing, fangs lengthening. Before he reached her, Logan was there, claws slashing across the man's chest in a blur of fury and blood.
"Get to Elara and you die screaming," Logan growled, voice barely human.
The fight turned chaotic. Claws clashed with enhanced strength. Elara dodged, heart pounding, firing when she had a clear shot. One pack member cornered her against a wall.
"You're making him weak," the man spat. "The beast will consume him because of you."
Elara lifted her chin. "Or maybe I'm what keeps him human."
Logan heard. Rage fueled him. He tore through the remaining attackers, healing instantly from knife wounds and bullets. When the last one fell, the street was silent except for distant sirens.
He pulled Elara into his arms, breathing hard, blood streaking his shirt. "You fought beside me."
"I told you I would." She pressed her forehead to his, feeling the wild beat of his heart. The romantic pull deepened—fear mixing with fierce love. "But you're shaking. The beast is getting louder, isn't it?"
He nodded, jaw tight. "Every time I think about losing you, it pushes harder. If I fully shift one day… I might not recognize you."
She kissed him softly this time, grounding him. "Then I'll remind you who you are."
They abandoned the damaged car and stole one of the attackers' vans, racing toward a hidden warehouse on the lagoon edge. But as they arrived, Logan's phone lit up with a new message—from Victor:
Nice show. We have your 'pack' contacts. Deliver the girl by dawn or the world sees the Wolverine bleed on live television.
Logan's claws dug into the steering wheel. The betrayal ran deeper than Aria. Someone inside was feeding Victor everything.
Elara placed her hand over his. "We face it together. No more secrets."
His eyes burned with possessive hunger and raw fear. The mate bond was tightening—beautiful and terrifying.