Logan’s hands were steady. He worked with a calm urgency, fingers practiced and sure as he opened the small emergency kit he always kept in the car. The park had been too chaotic and Logan refused to wait. He drew a syringe, checked dosage with an instinct that made him feel equal parts guilty and necessary, and administered the little medications he’d learned to keep for true emergencies—coagulants, a vasoconstrictor, something to stabilize until proper surgeons could take over. They were stopgap measures, but they would buy time.Chloe’s breathing eased fractionally; the color that had leached from her cheeks threaded back in a whisper. Her eyelids fluttered; she tried to blink open, and Charlotte sobbed out a breath, pressing her forehead to Chloe’s and whispering: “Stay with me, baby. Stay with us.”Logan’s voice was low and precise as he leaned over them. “She’s stabilizing. It’s not over, but she’ll make it into the ambulance if we go now.” He slid a hand into Charlotte’s

For a brief moment, silence filled the room. The flickering light above cast long shadows across the men’s faces, exaggerating the hard planes of cheekbones and the hollows beneath eyes. The air smelled of damp concrete, sweat, and old cigarette smoke. Then, the leader—a tall, broad-shouldered brute with a jagged scar cutting across his cheek—smirked as if savoring a private victory.He turned his head slightly and gave a sharp nod to one of his men.“Finish him,” the leader said flatly.Immediately, two of the men lunged toward Logan, their heavy boots stomping against the cracked concrete floor. They moved with the practiced speed of men who had fought in back alleys and warehouse brawls, not with the sloppy panic of amateurs—but Logan was ready. He’d been waiting for this. His senses tightened; the world reduced to the rhythm of breaths and the snap of muscle.The first man swung a crowbar straight for Logan’s head. Logan ducked, feeling the rush of air as the metal passed inche

Logan wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead as he stepped out of the room where he had just confronted the men. Their expressions—part fear, part relief—lingered in his mind, but he dismissed the thought. Right now, only one thing mattered: Chloe and the faint, uncertain life of the girl lying on the bed. As he pushed the door open, the creak echoed across the narrow hallway. The house was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls like nervous ghosts. Every movement, every sound seemed to carry weight. Logan’s boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he walked toward the small room at the far end. When he stepped inside, everyone turned to him at once—Chloe, her mother Charlotte, and the two servants standing quietly at the corner. Their eyes were swollen from crying. The flickering candlelight made Chloe’s tear-streaked face appear almost translucent. Her hands trembled as she sat beside the small bed, where Chloe lay motionless, pale as marble. “She’s

When Damien handed over his phone, Logan thought it would be another of his taunts — the kind of thing designed to unsettle, to make him feel small. Instead, the screen lit in his palm and his blood went cold.There she was.Charlotte. His Charlotte.The footage filled the phone’s display like a private room poured into his hand. A hotel suite, dim with warm lamplight that made the air look like honey. Beige curtains hung heavy at the windows and a patterned rug swallowed the heels of furniture. On the bed, Charlotte leaned into a man whose silhouette made Logan’s stomach drop. At first the features were unfamiliar — a broad back, shoulders that filled the frame; then, as the clip played, the man’s face came into focus: dark hair, combed back, an easy smile that didn’t belong to Logan. He held Charlotte close, one arm around her waist, the other sliding fingers through her hair. He whispered something near her ear and she laughed — a small, intimate sound Logan thought only he’d

Logan didn’t linger another second at the hotel. Fury burned through him like fire as he turned sharply and stormed out, the night air biting against his face. The chill did nothing to cool the heat in his veins.He walked with quick, purposeful strides toward his car, every muscle tight with rage. The video he had just seen played over and over in his mind like a cursed loop. Charlotte’s face. Her laugh. The way she stood beside that man in the footage — close, too close.Logan’s jaw clenched as he gripped the steering wheel and sped into the night. The city lights blurred into streaks of color, but he barely noticed. All he could think about was her — and the questions clawing at his chest.He would confront her. Tonight. There would be no waiting until morning, no calming down first. He needed answers now.By the time he reached their home, his anger had sharpened into a cold, controlled fury. He slammed the car door and strode to the front porch, his footsteps heavy against the st