Chapter 4: Mr. Howlett’s Class

[Logan's POV – Beacon Hills High – Monday Morning]

It started with a smell.

Leather. Steel. Coffee. And a hint of cigar.

I was halfway to class when I froze in the hallway. My claws didn't come out — but they twitched. Every hair on my arm stood on edge.

"...No way," I muttered.

The classroom door creaked open ahead of me. Laughter echoed inside, students joking around, talking about lacrosse and weekend parties. But I heard none of it.

Because I recognized that scent.

That heartbeat.

That heavy, deliberate footstep.

"Don't tell me," I whispered, walking into class. "Please, don't—"

There he was.

Standing at the front of the room, chalk in hand, boots planted like roots in bedrock.

James Howlett.

My father.

Wearing a black button-down, sleeves rolled, veins like wire cables in his forearms. Hair messy as always. A leather coat slung over the desk like a bear pelt.

The new history teacher.

Of course he was.

He turned to face the class. Sharp gold eyes scanned everyone—and then locked on mine with a flicker of amusement.

"Alright, brats. I'm your new history teacher. Call me Mr. Howlett."

Someone in the back chuckled. "Like… Wolverine?"

His smirk widened.

"Yeah. Just like him."

[Allison's POV – Same Room]

I wasn't sure what I expected when Scott said we had a new teacher.

But it definitely wasn't that.

Tall. Broad. Intense. Like Logan, but older. Rougher. More dangerous in a quiet, don't-cross-me kind of way.

Logan saw him and visibly flinched — which was shocking, because I'd seen Logan fight like a wild animal and not blink.

I leaned over to whisper to Lydia. "That's Logan's dad."

Lydia blinked. "You're telling me that man made that boy?"

"Apparently."

She narrowed her eyes. "Is… is that legal? I mean—good genes, sure, but that's borderline cheating."

I almost laughed.

But then Mr. Howlett began to speak.

"History," he growled, scribbling on the board with terrifying force. "Isn't about dates. It's about blood. Power. People making stupid choices for stupid reasons and paying in flesh."

Dead silence.

Then Stiles whispered, "...I think I love him."

[Stiles' POV – Whispering from Hell]

You know that feeling when you meet someone and instantly realize they could kill you with a spoon?

That was Mr. Howlett.

He looked like he'd bench-pressed tanks for breakfast. His voice had gravel. His beard had wisdom. His eyes said "I've seen wars and I didn't flinch."

And his arms.

God.

I glanced at Scott, who looked like he was going to melt into his desk.

"Dude," I whispered. "That's Logan's dad?"

Scott nodded slowly.

"Like father, like 'I will punch you through a wall'?"

"Yup."

"Do you think he could smell fear?"

Scott didn't answer.

I think he was too afraid to.

[James Howlett's POV – Class In Session]

Kids these days.

Soft. Lazy. Distracted.

But a few of them... had eyes like predators.

Argent's girl. Sharp. Trained. Tense.

The boy next to her — McCall. Nervous. Heartbeat faster than it should be.

And of course — my kid. Logan. Sitting in the back like he hoped I wouldn't call on him.

Poor bastard.

I leaned back against the desk.

"Who can tell me what war taught us more about human nature than any other?"

Silence.

Then Logan raised his hand, voice bored. "All of them."

The class chuckled. I grinned.

"Correct. And also, you're late on your rent."

He blinked. "I live in your house."

"Exactly."

[Logan's POV – After Class]

The moment the bell rang, I moved fast. Tried to make it out before anyone else caught up.

Didn't work.

"Hey," Allison called. "So… your dad?"

I sighed. "Yeah. That was him."

"He's… intense."

"Understatement."

"Is he here just to teach, or…?"

I gave her a look.

She understood.

"Right," she said. "Beacon Hills."

I nodded. "He doesn't go anywhere unless there's something hunting or something worth hunting."

"And you?"

"I go where you go."

She blinked.

I regretted that slip immediately.

"Wait—what?"

"Nothing," I said, walking faster.

"Logan!"

Nope. I was not having a feelings conversation right now. Not when the man who taught me how to disarm a grenade with my teeth was lurking around the school.

[Scott's POV – Hallway Chaos]

"Dude, your new teacher is terrifying."

Logan didn't even blink. "Tell me about it."

"You think he's gonna, like, fight someone?"

"If they deserve it."

Stiles joined us, holding up a piece of paper. "He gave us a quiz on the Mongol Empire. One question. 'Why did Genghis Khan win?' That's it!"

Logan snorted. "I got that one right."

"What did you write?"

"'Because he was angrier than everyone else.'"

Stiles stared. "That's terrifying. And... kinda hot."

Scott gave him a look.

"What? I'm secure in my masculinity."

[James Howlett's POV – Principal's Office]

"I hope you're not here to cause trouble," Principal Thomas said, clearly trying to act firm.

I lit a cigar. Didn't smoke it. Just needed it in my hand.

"Trouble finds me."

"You come highly recommended by the Board, but I'll be watching you."

"Good. Maybe you'll learn something."

His lip twitched. "What did you even do before teaching?"

I looked him dead in the eyes.

"War."

He didn't ask again.

[Kate Argent's POV – Beacon Hills Motel]

The report was simple.

Two signatures.

One matching the boy—Logan.

The other?

Unmistakable.

James Howlett.

A ghost from the hunter files. Not a werewolf. Not a man. Something in between. Unkillable. Ancient. Rogue.

She stared at the printed photo. Smirked.

"This is gonna be fun."

[Logan's POV – Home, Night]

I stepped into the house to find him already cooking.

Steak. Rare. Of course.

"You're drawing attention," I said.

"I am attention," he replied.

"I don't want her knowing what we are yet."

"She already suspects. You've been circling her like a wolf on a leash."

"I'm trying to stay out of the way."

James raised an eyebrow. "You're not a shadow, kid. You're a storm."

He tossed me a drink.

"I didn't ask for you to show up."

"You never do."

"But you're still here."

"I always will be."

I took a deep breath. Sat down.

"Kate Argent's in town."

He grunted.

"Good."

"What do you mean, 'good'?"

"I've got unfinished business with that psycho."

I paused.

"…What kind of business?"

He smiled.

The kind of smile that meant trouble.

[Allison's POV – Bedroom]

I couldn't sleep.

Logan's dad had shaken something loose in me. Something I didn't like admitting.

Fear. Curiosity. And something else.

Attraction?

Oh my God, Allison, stop.

But the way Logan had looked at him… like a soldier seeing his commander again.

Like a boy seeing the man he both feared and loved.

I wanted to know more.

But I also wanted to know why Logan flinched when his dad walked into the room.

Because no matter how hot or cool or stoic he acted — Logan was hiding something big.

And I wasn't sure how long I could pretend I didn't want to know what it was.

To Be Continued in Chapter 5: "The Wolverine and the Hunter"