Logan Chapter 62

-Cora-

For all the effort I wasted on that man, Tommon ended up being useless as my attorney. He spent the whole night whining about how he wouldn’t make partner if he had too many hours ‘pro boner.’ Obviously, he thinks he’s hilarious. His type always does. He also doesn’t think I have a case and should make a plea deal, like I haven’t uncovered the story of a century. I’ve been vacillating between getting a cheaper attorney that I know won’t win my case for me and manipulating what I know of Logan and Emory to drop the charges.

I’m leaning heavily on the side of the latter, because I’ve been suspended from Hot Tea, of all places. I was the best damned writer they’ve ever had. They know it, too. My editor claimed that was the only reason I still technically have a job. I know he’s in hot water, too, though, for assuming I had a release form from Emory when I didn’t. I suppose I could forge one… I’ll have to see if I can find anything with her signature on it. That would be a handy little tool to have in court, and would drive a wedge between her and that animal as a bonus.

Being suspended, I’ve been ordered off commenting on the buzz still surrounding my article on pain of actual termination. My silence has been noted by the major news outlets, and they’ve rightly deemed it suspicious. I can’t believe Hot Tea is hobbling me this way when we could be capitalizing on all this free publicity, but the whole lot of them are cowards.

One bright note in this entire shit show is that the conspiracy theories are alive and well. They’re in what would basically be the back alleys of the internet, but they’re starting to gain traction. There’s been a breakthrough in the ‘lore’ recently where one genealogy nerd has found the leaders of communities have been changing their surnames to match the predecessors’. While that’s not useful to me, it did bring up some interesting questions about werewolf politics- werewolf politics, imagine! Another use for this otherwise uninteresting information is that it now acts as a red flag for communities that may potentially be shifter packs. It doesn’t help that usually the surname is the word for wolf or cat or what-have-you in the language of origin for that community.

By this logic, it’s clear that Logan’s pack would be from the slavic region, somewhere. The conspiracy nuts were all very excited to pat each other on the back for this breakthrough, but I’m just happy they’re recruiting their friends. Soon, it won’t matter whether I’m allowed to write about it or not- shifters will be well and truly outed in the space of years. I give Logan- and now probably Emory- no more than three years to enjoy the sunshine outside of some government lab. I wonder what experiments they’d perform on somebody who willingly fucks monsters?

I’m not sure if my obsession is starting to become unhealthy or if I’m just getting cabin fever. I can’t leave my apartment without feeling watched, lately. It seems like every time I even move near my windows, I can feel eyes on me. It has to be someone Logan set to surveil me. I’m sure they’re just waiting ever so patiently to catch me alone so they can take me out of the picture. I bet they’ll make it look like I ran. I’ve been posting notes everywhere to let the police know the opposite. I have notes in my bathroom, in my bedside drawers, on the inside of my fridge and kitchen cabinets. Most of them say something along the lines of “I’m being watched” or “They took me, I didn’t run.” It should be simple for the police to extrapolate from there who will be responsible. There’s only one group of people who would have any reason to kidnap or even murder me at this point.

I look down when my phone lights up. I have a text from a number I haven’t needed to use in years. I suppose Logan’s PI found some of the boys I extorted in college. Andrew is trying to suck up, as always and see what I want him to say. He’s been one of my most loyal income sources, and has paid faithfully for over a decade now. I wonder if his wife knows where that money is going? It’s really not my business, I guess, as long as he gives me the money. I would never be able to live in an apartment so close to downtown on my salary alone, no matter that the apartment in question is crap compared to how I grew up. Location, location, location, and all that. I should probably be grateful to the little worm- he’s made a lovely alarm system for what Logan is up to now. It’s so nice when the enemy telegraphs their moves. Squashing this will be just the pick-me-up I need.