Logan's POV
"Nathaniel Aldridge. President of the Department of Paranormal Affairs."
Fenrir hisses.
I don't hear it so much as I feel it—a static hum under my skin, prickling up the back of my neck, raising the hairs on my arms, grinding my teeth together like something in me already knows what my brain hasn't caught up to.
His hackles rise. Mine follow.
And I know this feeling. I know what it means when my wolf reacts before I do.
Danger.
Nathaniel Aldridge's hand is still outstretched toward me. Steady. Open. Civil.
I look at it like it's a loaded weapon.
My synapses fire in too many directions at once. My chest tightens. Fenrir doesn't trust this man—and if he doesn't, then I won't.
Still, I force myself to move.
I take his hand and shake it with the same vigour as someone hugging a block of stone.
"Logan Whittaker," I say. "Pro baseballer."