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In war, Logan had killed. For duty, for his country, to protect those he had served with, or sworn to protect. Yet he had never hated the enemy or felt any pleasure to see them fall. Until today.Today’s work of violent retribution had produced a savage joy that had yet to fade away. His flesh vibrated with a savage high that had yet to fade away. He felt no guilt or remorse. The two Incubi had been evil. Death had been a mercy they did not deserve, but it was one Logan had been more than happy to deliver.For the first time since waking up in Grandfather Bear’s forest clearing, Logan felt in control of some small part of his life. He had the power of life and death in his hands. It felt good, like the first hit of a powerful drug.That he was capable of gleeful brutality was terrifying.He looked up to see Beauty watching him with her unreadable, golden cat eyes. Logan saw no judgment there, no second-guessing, and for that, he was both grateful and envious.Sitting there in their crude,. Peter Fields was a most particular man when it came to punctuality, probably because that was the only area in which he could be considered remotely trustworthy. With a sigh, he rose from his chair and plodded back inside to get dressed. Finally dressed in a dashing suit after ‘just one more’ glass of Scotch, the Captain was only just on time for the carriage Peter had sent for him. He hopped in, sighing as he reclined back into the leather seat. Something wasn’t right. He opened the window. ‘Excuse me – could we make a detour? I believe I left my hat at the Red Lion Inn earlier.’ The driver grunted his assent, and Captain Wood’s lips relaxed into a satisfied smile. The journey to the station wasn’t far, and he was too lost in his thoughts for it to take very long. As the carriage bounced over the uneven cobbled streets, drawing ever nearer to the inn, he forced himself to release the breath he’d been holding for the past minute. He didn’t like to be dramatic, but it really did feel.
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