Switched Bride True Luna novel Chapter 117

Chapter 117

Emily

When I arrived at the meeting Logan was already seated at the head of the table, a stack of documents in front of him, untouched.

His jaw was tight, his posture rigid. His eyes flicked up when I entered, softened for a breath, then sharpened again when Reid entered behind me.

That’s when I felt it. The current of tension in

room.

Reid sat three seats down and never once looked in Logan’s direction. Which would’ve meant nothing–except that Reid always looked.

He tested boundaries. Teased, prodded, challenged. But today, he was silent. Composed. Almost reserved.

I knew instantly that something had happened.

I took my seat quietly, glancing over the schedule of topics while subtly watching Reid for any indication of what was going on. But Reid’s responses were shorter than usual, his fingers tapping against the table when Logan spoke.

Partway through a discussion about trade route patrols, Logan cut Reid off mid–sentence, clearly tiring of his attitude. “We’ll restructure the unit assignments,” he said. “If that’s a problem, bring a counterproposal next week.”

Reid only nodded.

The temperature in the room didn’t change, but the energy did. Eyes shifted. Everyone definitely noticed there was something off today.

I watched both men carefully: the challenging eye contact, the clipped conversation, the invisible line drawn between them.

Logan wasn’t just irritated. He was holding something back. And Reid… he looked like a man walking on the edge and knew he was about to fall off.

When the meeting finally ended, the others filtered out as quickly as possible, not wanting to be near a moody Alpha. Reid lingered just long enough to gather his papers before heading for the door, his jaw set, his back impossibly straight.

I waited until the door closed behind him, then turned to Logan.

“So,” I said lightly, “should I be worried you’re going to challenge Reid to a duel? Or did he just forget your birthday or something?”

Logan didn’t look up. “He’s not worth the bruises.”

That was new. Logan didn’t insult family–not in public, even when they deserved it.

I stepped a little closer to the table, arms crossed.

“You’ve been brooding even more than usual today. Do I need to have someone check the coffee stores? Or should It for moonwine and a diplomatic intervention?”

He gave the ghost of a smile. Just the corner of his mouth twitching before it disappeared again.

“I’m fine,” he said. Flat. Dismissive. Which meant not fine.

ling

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said after a beat. “But you should know you’re broadcasting tension like it’s part of your official wardrobe.”

Logan finally looked up at me. His expression was neutral but I could see the weight sitting behind it, pressing inward.

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Chapter 117

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“It’s being handled,” he said.

Inodded. “Whatever it is?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t push the issue, but I was deeply curious. I shoved that feeling down. Something about the way he spoke made it clear: the anger wasn’t directed at me.

I turned to leave, but as I reached the door, I glanced back.

Logan was still seated at the table, hand resting over a file he hadn’t opened once during the meeting

Whatever storm lived behind his eyes, it had nothing to do with Pack affairs. And everything to do with something personal.

I just wasn’t sure if it was about Reid… or me. So I headed home and gave Logan the space he clearly needed.

At dinner I slipped away early, too restless to sit through another course. It was hard to pretend I didn’t notice Logan’s absence during the meal.

I stepped out onto the balcony without thinking, just needing some air. The sky had just begun to darken, streaks of lavender fading into deep blue.

I expected some solitude; I didn’t expect to find Logan there. He didn’t turn when I stepped closer.

For a second, I thought about leaving him alone. Everything about his posture and the scene looked too private to interrupt. But something about his stillness pulled me in.

He was beautiful, half–silhouetted in the soft light, leaning on the railing with his head slightly bowed.

I crossed the balcony slowly, the cool breeze tugging at my sleeves as I stepped up beside him.

Logan didn’t even look at me. He just shifted slightly, making space. We stood side by side in silence, our arms close enough that the fabric of his jacket brushed against mine when the wind stirred.

“You missed dinner,” I said softly.

He didn’t answer right away. Just exhaled slowly, his eyes fixed on the tree line.

“I’m just thinking,” he said at last.

I smiled a little. “Dangerous habit.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. “You’re one to talk.”

I hummed in quiet agreement.

“You know,” I continued, my voice barely above a whisper, “you can talk to me. Whatever it is. I can be here for more than the speeches and ceremonial hand–holding.”

He turned his head slightly then, just enough that I could see the tension in his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like a man holding on to too much and trying not to let any of it show.

“I know,” he said. But he didn’t elaborate. I waited. And when he didn’t go on, I let the quiet stretch again.

Then, without really thinking about it, I reached for his hand. My fingers settled lightly against the back of his. A soft touch, a silent question.

But his hand shifted, slow and hesitant, until his fingers curled around mine. His thumb brushed across the side of my hand once, a quiet reassurance. Or maybe it was a thank you.

We stood like that, not saying anything more, picked up, rustling the leaves in the distance.

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