Chapter Text
The Canadian forests seemed the perfect place for Logan. Cold mountains covered in snow, freezing wind, and the distant sounds of animals; it was the only place that gave him peace. Here, far from any town or city, he could forgive of his problems or at least try so.
Logan exhaled a breath that misted in the icy air. He was chopping wood near the cabin. The logs split clean under the precise swing of his axe. Of course, he had the claws, but he liked the old-fashioned way. It gave him something to do, something to anchor him to the present.
The first hint that something was off was the smell. Barely detectable at first, but unmistakable: blood. Logan dropped the axe to the snow and lifted his head as his senses went on high alert. It wasn’t a wounded animal. It was human.
With cautious steps, he advanced through the woods, guiding himself to where the smell was stronger. The smell of blood became even stronger, and he finally heard the sound of labored breathing. After rounding a tree, he saw her.
A woman, bending over herself in the trunk of a tree. Her dark hair clung to her face, damp with sweat, and her trembling hands were pressed against a wound in her side. Her clothes were torn, and the trail of blood in the snow told the story of how she’d made it this far.
Logan felt a tug of conflict deep within. The part of him that still clung to humanity wanted to help. The other part, the part that knew human company only ever brought trouble, told him to turn around and go back to the cabin.
“Hey,” he said finally, his rough voice cutting through the stillness of the forest.
The woman lifted her head, too weak to respond at first. But her eyes held a fierce determination.
“Help…” she murmured, before collapsing.
Logan cursed under his breath and moved toward her. He should’ve walked away, but something about her stopped him.
“Perfect,” he muttered as he crouched to pick her up.
She was light, far too light. Her body was freezing, and Logan knew she wouldn’t last long without help. Cradling her against him, he carried her back toward his cabin, his mind already working through what to do. He wasn’t a doctor, but he’d patched people up enough times to know the basics. It would have to be enough.
Inside the cabin, Logan laid her on the old couch made of furs and blankets. The wound was bad but not fatal, if he could stop the bleeding. As he worked, cutting away the tattered fabric and carefully cleaning the injury, his mind kept circling the same question: Who was this woman, and what the hell was she doing out here, alone?
When the bandaging was done, Logan leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh. He stayed there for hours, watching her as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.
At dawn, she opened her eyes.
Logan sat in a chair opposite her, arms crossed, his gaze sharp enough to cut.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice low but firm.
The woman blinked, trying to focus. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, tinged with exhaustion.
“I'm Elena… Thank you for not letting me die.”
Logan didn’t respond right away. There was something in her tone that set him on edge. It wasn’t fear, nor was it gratitude. It was something deeper, as if those words were only the tip of what she really meant to say.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he muttered at last.
Then he stood and walked out, leaving her to the warmth of the fire.
The stillness of the cabin was quickly replaced by the crisp chill of the outside air as Logan stepped out. He needed space to clear his mind. There was something about that woman, Elena, that didn’t sit right. No one ventured this deep into the woods without a damn good reason, and his instincts told him her reason wouldn’t be good news for him.
Logan stood outside, breathing in the icy air as he watched the sun slowly rise over the horizon. His instincts had always warned him about complications. Still, the other part of him, the part that still wanted to believe there was more to life than just surviving, had led him to save her. And now he had a stranger in his cabin who would almost certainly bring trouble.
When he stepped back into the cabin, he found Elena struggling to get out of bed. Her hands trembled as she gripped the wooden frame, and Logan’s frown deepened.
“Don’t move,” he growled, crossing the room in two strides to ease her back onto the coach.
She resisted, though she didn’t have the strength for it.
“I can’t stay here,” she said, her breath labored.
“You’re in no shape to go anywhere. If you try, you’ll just end up killing yourself faster,” Logan shot back, his tone rough.
“Better that than… the alternative,” she murmured, barely audible.
Logan raised an eyebrow. That response confirmed what he’d already suspected—she was running. From something. Or someone.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked, leaning slightly toward her, his voice low but sharp.
Elena looked away, as if deciding whether she could trust him. Finally, she sighed.
“They’ll find me. They always do. It doesn’t matter how far I go.”
“Who?” Logan pressed, but she only shook her head.
He watched her hands clutch the blankets, noticing the slight tremor in her fingers. It wasn’t just the cold or the injury,it was fear. A deep, bone-deep kind of fear. Logan knew that feeling all too well.
“Look, I don’t have time for games,” he said, letting his impatience bleed into his tone. “If someone’s after you, I need to know. If you’re bringing trouble here, I’m not just going to sit around and wait for it.”
Elena met his gaze, her eyes locking onto his.
“I’m not asking for your help,” she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just let me recover, and I’ll go. I don’t want to drag you into this.”
Logan let out a bitter laugh and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Too late for that. You’re already here. And if someone’s after you, they’ll be coming for me too.”
Elena didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes, as if the conversation itself had drained what little energy she had left. Logan watched her breathing slow, though the tension in her face remained, even as she drifted off.
Over the next few hours, Logan cared for her in silence. He wasn’t gentle, his movements were brusque, his patience thin. But he knew how to clean a wound, how to change a bandage, and how to keep someone alive.
Elena, for her part, didn’t talk much. But little by little, Logan began to notice details. How her gaze flicked toward the window at every unfamiliar sound. There was a story behind those eyes, a past loaded with secrets. And while Logan tried to stay detached, he couldn’t stop his curiosity from creeping in.
Not long after, the first sign of trouble appeared. Logan was outside gathering firewood when his ears picked up the faint hum of an engine. A truck.
The vehicle stopped a short distance from the trail leading to his cabin. Logan narrowed his eyes, watching as three men climbed out. They weren’t hunters or hikers, too organized, too focused. Each wore black jackets, heavy boots, and an air of menace.
The leader, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, scanning the area with a cold, calculating gaze.
“We know you’re here,” he called, his voice booming through the frozen air. “We just want to talk.”
Logan felt his instincts stir. His muscles tensed, and his claws threatened to emerge from beneath his skin. He headed back to the cabin quickly. Inside, Elena was on her feet, swaying slightly, her eyes locked on him.
“They’re here for me, aren’t they?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“I think they're not only for you,” Logan said grimly. “But yeah, they’re here.”
Elena closed her eyes, as if bracing herself for this moment. Logan growled, frustration simmering under the surface. He could hand her over and avoid the mess. But something deep within him, something stubborn and infuriating, wouldn’t even let him consider it.
“Stay here,” he ordered, heading toward the door.
“You can’t face them alone,” Elena protested, trying to follow him.
Logan stopped and looked back over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity.
“Trust me. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Before she could argue, he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. The air was cold and sharp, but it was nothing compared to what he was about to unleash.
Logan approached the men with steady, deliberate steps. His eyes locked onto the leader, the man with the scar, as he quickly sized up the situation. The other two stayed slightly behind, their hands resting on their weapons, ready to act. This wasn’t going to be a friendly conversation, and Logan knew it.
The scarred man offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“We’re not here to cause trouble, friend. Just looking to retrieve something that belongs to us.”
Logan tilted his head slightly. His claws were ready to spring out in an instant if needed.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice rough, sarcasm dripping from every word.
The leader chuckled, a short, humorless sound.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. We followed the trail. We know she’s here. The girl. Hand her over, and we won’t have to make a mess of this nice little place.”
Logan narrowed his eyes, watching every movement. These men were pros, that much was obvious, but they were also underestimating him. They had no idea who they were dealing with.
“And what if I say no?” Logan asked, a faint growl creeping into his voice.
The scarred man’s smile vanished. He stepped forward, but Logan didn’t flinch.
“Then,” the leader said coldly, “we’ll take her by force. And trust me, you don’t want that.”
One of the men behind the leader subtly raised his weapon, a movement that didn’t escape Logan’s heightened senses. Time seemed to slow. He caught the sound of the trigger, the shift of weight, the faint scent of gun oil.
Logan smiled, but it wasn’t friendly.
“Go ahead. Try.”
The first shot cracked through the forest, but Logan was already moving. In a flash, his claws extended with a metallic snikt, and he was on the shooter before the man could react. A strangled cry escaped as Logan shredded the weapon, leaving it useless, and threw the man to the ground, tearing him apart.
The second man went for his gun, but Logan was faster. A single brutal blow sent him flying into a nearby tree. The impact killed him out cold before he could even scream.
The leader scrambled backward, pulling a pistol with quick, practiced movements. He fired several shots, each one hitting Logan. But the bullets did little more than tear through his jacket and flesh. Within moments, the wounds healed, leaving the man with the scar staring in stunned disbelief.
“What... what the hell are you?” he stammered, his voice trembling for the first time.
Logan stepped forward slowly, his claws gleaming in the pale winter sunlight. His expression was ice-cold and lethal.
“I’m the last thing you’ll ever want to meet again,” Logan growled. In one swift motion, he knocked the gun from the man’s hand, sending it skidding across the snow.
The leader dropped to his knees, panting and trying to scramble backward. Logan loomed over him, bringing his claws rapidly to the man and tearing him apart, just like he did with the first one.
The silence reigned again, but the snow was now covered with the men blood. Their bodies lying inert.
Logan went back inside the cabin after hiding the corpses, he found Elena standing by the window, bracing herself against the frame. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a mix of concern and determination.
“What happened?” she asked, though she likely already knew the answer.
Logan grunted, shrugging off his bullet-riddled jacket to reveal the wounds on his torso, still healing.
“They’re gone. For now.”
Her gaze lingered on the scars crisscrossing his chest. The injuries might have closed, but the marks of his past remained, etched deep into his skin.
“I saw what you did...” she murmured, awe tinging her voice. “That’s... not normal.”
Logan shot her a hard look.
“Neither is running from a pack of killers. So I’d say we’re even.”
Elena opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself. Instead, she let out a weary sigh and sank into the nearest chair.
“They won’t stop, you know,” she said quietly. “You've might have kill them, but others will come back. They always do.”
Logan stood in silence, considering her words. He could tell her it wasn’t his problem, that she’d need to figure this out on her own. But as he looked at her, something inside him stirred.
“Then we’ll have to make sure they can’t come back.”
Elena’s head snapped up in surprise.
“We?”
Logan shrugged.
“You’re here. Looks like they’re my problem now too.”
She stared at him, as if trying to read him, to understand the man standing before her. After a moment, she nodded, gratitude flickering in her expression.
“Thank you, Logan.”
He grunted, turning toward the door.
“Don’t make a habit of it.”
As he stepped outside to survey the area, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a much bigger fight.