The Rogue King's Surrogate novel Chapter 67

10 Minutes Ago

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Logan sat in front of a massive, state–of–the–art command system. The room around him hummed with quiet intensity–rows of large monitors lined the walls, displaying live video feeds, satellite imagery, encrypted chat threads, and real–time stock and diplomatic updates from across the globe.

Several techs moved from station to station, each manning a terminal, their eyes scanning lines of code, newsfeeds, or satellite positioning software. It looked more like a tactical military ops center than an office.

Holographic projections flickered in front of Logan, highlighting regional heat maps, surveillance patterns, and a real–time GPS feed of Emery’s vehicle. At the far end of the room, someone monitored pack–related activity, cross–referencing drone images and phone pings. The entire setup was built for precision, surveillance, and above all–for control.

“Update?” Logan asked without turning. He buried himself with work since Emery left, wanting to take his mind off things, but he could he not ask for any updates? His wolf had been very uneasy since Emery left. Logan tried to calm it down, but failed over and over again.

A young analyst approached, tablet in hand. “Mrs. Hayes is done with her shopping and just got back on the road. She’s heading toward another shopping mall in the west district.”

Logan nodded once. One of the larger monitors shifted, zooming in on satellite imagery showing Emery’s vehicle moving steadily across the city grid. Two other vehicles followed her at an even distance—unmarked, but known. His security.

Then it happened. The screens flickered. Static danced across every monitor like a wave. For a second, the room dimmed. Then all visuals went black.

Everyone froze.

Logan’s expression darkened immediately. He shot to his feet. “Get it back. Now.”

Technicians sprang into action, typing, redirecting feeds, and cycling protocols. But Logan didn’t wait. He stepped away from the console, already issuing orders to the two men following him.

“Start manual trace. Use her emergency GPS band and cross–reference traffic cam feeds. If that doesn’t work. activate silent drone recon.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them responded, already reaching for a comm device.

They were halfway to the exit when Lucille entered from the east corridor, out of breath but composed. “We picked up rogue movement in Texas. A small pack’s been surrounded. I’m prepping a squad.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. He didn’t break stride. “Take three trucks. Use the Omega pattern. If they’re civilians, don’t engage. Extract and relocate.”

Lucille nodded, but before she turned, another man jogged up to them. “Alpha–reports are coming in from New York and North Carolina. Forest perimeters. Coordinated attacks. Local packs are requesting backup from the Alpha King.”

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Chapter 67

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“Dispatch four teams,” Logan barked. “East Coast priority. Use blackout comms. No signal leakage.”

Lucille glanced at him, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Where are you going?”

Logan’s eyes didn’t waver. “To find Emery.”

She hesitated. “You’re going alone?”

“I have her scent. That’s all I need.”

Lucille stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded once. “Alright. I’ll take care of the reports.”

Logan didn’t respond. He pushed through the exit doors, the two guards flanking him, their steps synchronized. His movements were sharp, commanding. There was no hesitation in him. No fear. Only calculated fury.

The guards didn’t speak, just followed, glancing at one another occasionally. Everyone knew the drill. If Logan was moving, someone had crossed a line.

Logan climbed into the SUV without waiting for the door to close. The two men followed. The vehicle pulled out of the compound before the tires fully gripped the road. Inside, Logan’s fingers flew across the in–car console, issuing a lockdown order to all federal surveillance access points in the area. Local cameras. Road feeds. Emergency scanners. He locked them all under his authority.

The screens on the dashboard flickered to life, but his focus shifted. Something clawed at him. Not a thought. Not a suspicion. A certainty. The wolf inside him was howling. Every breath was shallow. His jaw clenched tighter with each passing second.

“Update,” he demanded.

One of the men, Mace, glanced down at his tablet. “We got her signal. Found the exact location of the GPS.”

Logan didn’t move.

“But her car isn’t moving.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Logan’s stare sharpened. His right hand curled into a fist against his leg.

“Get to that car. Now,”

The driver didn’t speak. He has already adjusted the course.

Another tech in the back seat leaned forward. “Sir. There’s chatter on the emergency bands, Looks like an accident. Multiple cars. Pulling live feed now.”

A beat later, the screen embedded in the middle console flickered again. A grainy video loaded. The aerial drone footage showed a three–car collision off the side of the highway. Logan recognized the vehicle immediately. Emery’s. It was wedged between two others, both severely damaged.

Without warning, Logan reached over and grabbed the laptop from the tech’s hands. His eyes locked on the screen, scanning everything. The angle rotated. A timestamp marked the footage. Yet for some reason, he

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Chapter 67

couldn’t see anyone in any of the cars. He frowned.

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No ambulances. No paramedics, yet. Just smoke and the beginning of a crowd gathering and police.

“There’s no medical response,” he muttered, more to himself.

“Should I call dispatch?” Mace asked.

Logan’s fingers moved quickly across the keyboard. “Check all hospitals within a five–mile radius. Emergency rooms, urgent care, anything. Check active ambulance logs. If she’s been moved, I want to know where.”

The SUV accelerated. The city blurred around them. Soon enough, they arrived at the scene.

Logan stepped out of the SUV before it came to a complete stop. The front line of officers turned toward him immediately, hands out to block his path.

“Sir, you can’t go any closer. This area is restricted.”

He didn’t stop walking. “That’s my wife’s car.”

The officer glanced at the wreckage, then back at Logan. “We already transported everyone involved. They’re at St. Jude’s Hospital. We’re securing the site and documenting the scene. You’ll have to wait for—”

Logan had already stopped listening. His eyes were locked on the vehicle. Emery’s car was crushed between two sedans, the rear end crumpled, the front hood bent at an angle that made the engine unrecognizable. Glass littered the ground.

He stood there, silent, until he exhaled slowly.

The scent hit him almost immediately. Metallic. Sharp. Familiar.

Emery.

His hands flexed at his sides, shoulders tense. The wolf inside him didn’t growl. It didn’t stir. It screamed. His nostrils flared as he stepped forward, ignoring the officers. He crouched beside the front passenger door and took another breath.

Only one scent. Hers.

No trace of the attackers. No scent of other shifters. Whoever was there had been careful.

He stood up and walked back to the SUV without another word.

“Drive to St. Jude’s,” he ordered,

The door shut behind him, and the vehicle pulled away.

Inside, Logan stared ahead, jaw clenched. Images flashed through his mind–Emery pinned in that car, blood on her face, struggling to move. Their child, fragile and unprotected, is caught in the middle of it. He shut his eyes for a second. That was enough. He didn’t let himself imagine more.

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Chapter 67

He wouldn’t let himself imagine the worst.

A voice cut through the silence.

“Your Highness–we have a problem.”