Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 24: Yet Another Strange Event

Logan’s as sexy as ever, even with an annoyed glower on his face. "Why are you here?"

Amazing welcome. Why am I here? I wasn’t expecting him to be so unenthused by my presence.

"I wanted to thank you for saving my life."

He waves it off. "You would have been fine. It wasn’t as bad as it looked." But his eyes flick upward, behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I can see the gleam of a camera in the corner of the room.

Oh.

"Still. I felt like it was only right to thank you."

"Consider me thanked."

Logan’s dismissive attitude catches me off guard. This isn’t the man I remember from our heated encounter or even the one who lectured me about morality. His eyes, once warm and inviting, are chilly.

"Logan, I—"

"Is there anything else, Ms. d’Armand?" His tone is clipped, professional. Too professional.

I blink, taken aback by the formality. "Actually, yes. I wanted to ask about what happened at the hospital. I heard—"

"Nothing." He cuts me off, his jaw clenching. "If you have no official business here, I’ll have to ask you to leave."

The words sting more than they should. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. "Look, I know things are complicated between us. But I thought after what happened—"

"Nothing happened." His eyes flick to the camera again, a subtle movement I almost miss. "You had an accident. I happened to be in the area. End of story."

Something doesn’t add up. The Logan I met that night, the one who made me feel things I’d never experienced before, wouldn’t be this cold. Even when he rejected me, there was regret in his eyes. Now? Nothing.

"That’s bullshit, and you know it." Testing the boundaries, I lean forward and lower my voice. If I’m right, he’s going to assume I don’t understand what he’s trying to do and try to give me another hint. "What I saw that night—"

"I think you’re confused, Ms. d’Armand. Perhaps the accident affected your memory more than we realized." His voice is cold and detached. "I suggest you speak with your doctors if you’re experiencing delusions."

He stands abruptly, towering over me, but there’s another glance at the camera, almost too quick to see. "You were delirious from blood loss. I can’t help you with answers. Only the hospital can do that. I think it’s time for you to leave, Ms. d’Armand. I’m happy to see you doing so well."

* * *

My bizarre meeting with Logan only raises even more answers. He doesn’t want us to talk on camera; why? Is SED also compromised?

And even if they are, what do I have to do with it?

Is my accident on the mountain somehow connected to the mole in our company?

And, how much of these rumors about Logan hitting a doctor is true?

I feel like some sort of investigative reporter lately, not an anti-magic security consultant. I’m not a good one, either. I was not made for these kind of high-stakes, high-risk games.

Well—I guess it isn’t really a game. People have lost their lives.

Mysterious people I have yet to actually verify exist in this world, anyway.

Quickening my steps so I’m not late to clock in, I call Penelope.

"Hey, Nikki. Did you see him?"

Knowing at least someone cares about what’s going on around me as my soul warming from the chill of Logan’s dismissive attitude.

"Yeah. He was acting weird the whole time. Pretending nothing happened. Really cold. But he kept looking at the security camera."

"Oh, security camera..." Penelope sounds thoughtful. "Are there moles in the SED, too? Is this some sort of huge conspiracy?"

"Maybe." And maybe that’s how Mr. Fernsby got copies of customer accounts. Then again, I have yet to verify those are even real accounts... "Are you working tonight?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My new guy called in sick, and no one else can cover the bar."

Damn. I was hoping to drag Penelope with me on a cruise of all these so-called client homes, see if our security measures are actually installed on the premises. I really need a car. Maybe I’ll see if I can get a rental. "Okay. Can I borrow you tomorrow then?"

"Should be able to. I’ll do my best to keep the day clear."

"Thanks, Pippa."

Hanging up leaves me unsatisfied, my mind still buzzing with questions. The mystery keeps deepening whenever I try to look further into it, and I can’t help but feel like I’m somehow central to whatever is going on—but I don’t understand why.

Shaking my head, I move to slip my phone into my pocket.

"Shit!"

The device slips through my fingers, clattering onto the sidewalk. Muttering under my breath, I bend down to retrieve it, my fingers just grazing its edge when a deafening screech of tires pierces the air.

Time slows to a crawl. My head snaps up, eyes widening as a car careens towards me. Its tires smoke against the asphalt, the acrid smell filling my nostrils. The driver’s face is a mask of terror, hands white-knuckled on the wheel.

My heart leaps into my throat as the vehicle mounts the curb, missing me by mere inches. The rush of displaced air tugs at my clothes, and I stumble backward, nearly losing my balance.

With a sickening crunch of metal and shattering glass, the car plows into the building beside me. Bricks crumble, dust billowing out in a choking cloud. The impact rings in my ears, drowning out the screams from nearby pedestrians.

For a moment, I’m frozen, my brain struggling to process what just happened. If I hadn’t dropped my phone...

A shudder shakes my body. I would have been directly in the car’s path. My clumsy moment may have just saved my life.

Adrenaline surges through my veins, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. I force myself to take a deep breath, trying to quell the trembling in my limbs.

"Hey! Are you okay?" A concerned voice cuts through the chaos.

I blink, finally noticing the small crowd gathering around the crash site. A middle-aged woman with worry etched on her face is staring at me, her hand hovering near my arm as if unsure whether to touch me.

"I’m fine, I’m fine," I manage to stammer out, my voice sounding distant and unfamiliar to my own ears.

My gaze darts back to the wreckage. Smoke curls from the crumpled hood of the car, and I can hear muffled groans coming from inside. The driver.

I take a step towards the car, then pause. My phone. Where’s my phone?

Glancing down, I spot it lying forgotten on the sidewalk. The screen is cracked, a spiderweb of fractures spreading across its surface. But when I snatch it up, it still flickers to life.

With shaking fingers, I dial emergency services, relaying the situation as calmly as I can. As I speak, my eyes never leave the smoking wreck. Was this just a freak accident? Or something more sinister?

The events of the past few days flash through my mind. The mole in our company, the mysterious deaths, Logan’s odd behavior. Could this be connected? Am I paranoid, or is someone trying to silence me? But why? Who? I don’t have any information that isn’t easily found through our company computers.

Who would want to kill a nobody like me?