Chapter 180 The Alpha Is Sick

• Logan stormed into the Packhouse, his footsteps heavy and reverberating through the halls. The veins on his temples throbbed with the anger that surged within him, each step driven by the unresolved tension and the cryptic warning from the witch. His mind was a tempest of questions, all centered around one name—Blake.
• As he entered the sitting room, his eyes narrowed, and he immediately spotted Blake lounging on one of the sofas. Blake’s posture was relaxed, his body draped over the cushions in a way that spoke of comfort and ease. He looked up from the book in his hands, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to concern as he saw the fury etched on Logan’s face.
• “What the hell are you hiding from me, Blake?” Logan’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet of the room like a knife. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.