The warehouse smelled of salt water and rust. Logan barricaded the doors while Elara patched a shallow cut on his side that was already closing. Tension crackled between them—romantic conflict at its peak. Every touch felt like gasoline on fire.
"You can't keep risking yourself for me," Logan said, voice rough as he pulled her close anyway.
Elara looked up at him, eyes fierce. "Watch me. You're my husband. Contract or not, I choose you."
The words broke something in him. He lifted her onto a crate, kissing her with all the feral need he'd been holding back. Hands roamed—his rough and possessive, hers anchoring him. Clothes were shed in urgent bursts. Their bodies came together in a storm of passion and emotion, the warehouse echoing with gasps and growls. Logan was intense, almost wild, but always careful, whispering "mine" against her skin like a vow.
Afterward, lying tangled on makeshift blankets, he traced her spine. "I claimed you tonight. Not just the beast—the man too. Contract be damned. You're my mate. Forever."
Elara smiled, heart full despite the danger. "Good. Because I'm not letting go."
But peace shattered at 4 a.m. Alarms blared. Victor's men had found them—backed by turned pack members. The door exploded inward.
Logan shifted into full fight mode, claws out, roaring as he met the charge. Elara fought smart, using the environment—toppling crates, firing the last bullets. The battle was brutal. Logan took hits that would kill normal men, healing in seconds, but the sheer numbers wore him down.
In the chaos, Aria appeared, gun trained on Elara. "Last chance, Kane. Give her up or watch her die."
Logan froze, eyes glowing pure gold. The beast surged—muscles rippling, claws lengthening further. For a terrifying moment, Elara saw him slipping.
"Logan!" she shouted. "Come back to me!"
Her voice cut through. He lunged instead at Aria, disarming her without killing. The remaining attackers fled as sirens approached in the distance.
Panting, covered in sweat and fading wounds, Logan pulled Elara against his chest. "You brought me back."
She held him tight. "Always will."
But as they caught their breath, a new figure stepped from the shadows—older, lab coat under a suit, eyes cold with recognition.
"Subject Wolverine," he said smoothly. "It's time to come home. And your pretty mate will make the perfect next generation."
The creator of the original experiment had arrived. The real war was just beginning.