C41 You're Beaten, Logan!

Amara’s Point of View

The room was thick with silence. Logan sat hunched forward on the bench, his hands pressed against his ribs.

His face was pale, but his anger burned hotter than his wounds. Dad paced back and forth, calm but sharp, every step echoing.

I stood near the window, staring at the courtyard outside, where the pack was still buzzing about the fight