Charlotte’s scream tore through the room, raw and broken, echoing off the walls like a wound ripped open. The sound came from somewhere deep inside her, a place where fear and grief tangled so tightly they became indistinguishable. Her eyes were locked onto Logan’s motionless body on the floor, unable to look away even as her mind begged her to deny what she was seeing.Blood had pooled beneath him, dark and unforgiving, spreading slowly across the cold surface. It stained the floor, the sight of it burning into her vision. The stillness of his body was wrong—too complete, too final. That stillness shattered something deep inside her chest, something she wasn’t sure could ever be put back together.“You killed him!” she screamed at the men, her voice cracking under the weight of grief and fury. “You murderers! You killed him!”Her hands trembled violently as she staggered forward on instinct, her legs moving before her mind could catch up. Every part of her screamed to reach him, as i

The room was thick with tension, each breath seeming to hang in the stale, oppressive air. Charlotte’s hands trembled as she pressed against Logan’s chest, trying desperately to steady him, to offer what little support she could. His shirt was soaked through with blood, the deep crimson staining her own hands as they gripped him, but still he remained upright, stubbornly defiant. Around them, the men who had attacked were recovering from their brief hesitation, their faces twisted with a mix of rage, disbelief, and frustration. The one who had struck Logan earlier raised his sword once more, his eyes wild with impatience and incredulity.“Enough of this!” he snarled, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension like a knife. “You’re still alive? I’ll finish this myself!”Without giving them a moment to react, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the dim light of the room in a deadly streak. Logan’s hands tightened around his own weapon, bracing for the impact, every muscl

The room was silent except for the heavy breathing of the men sprawled across the polished floor. Their bodies ached, bruises and cuts covering them, and their clothing had been reduced to tatters by Logan’s relentless strikes. Even the smallest shred of dignity had been stripped from them. They groaned in pain, clutching themselves, trying to shield their bruised bodies. Shame and fear were etched into every line of their faces.One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a scar across his cheek, pushed himself up on trembling arms. His gaze wandered around the room, finding nothing but the remnants of their pride. He looked at the other men, who were equally defeated, and whispered, “We… we have to get out of here. Now.”The men scrambled to gather whatever pieces of clothing they could find, using torn shirts, bits of cloth, even the remains of their belts to cover themselves. Their hands shook as they attempted to create a semblance of modesty. Every movement was painful, every step

Moments later, the sound of multiple vehicles approaching the building became audible. Through the window, Logan and Charlotte could see the fleet of sleek black SUVs pulling up to the entrance. One by one, men and women in impeccably tailored outfits emerged—each exuding power, wealth, and menace. The Sullivan family had come. Every member, it seemed, had arrived in person.Logan turned slightly, eyes narrowing with interest. “Looks like they’ve decided to show themselves,” he said quietly. “All at once.”Charlotte’s gaze followed his, worry etched deeply on her face. “Logan… they’re serious. They’ve come to confront us directly.”Logan gave a small smirk, his hands clasping behind his back. “Then we’ll meet them as we always do. Face to face.”The front doors opened, and the members of the Sullivan family stepped into the grand hall of Logan’s penthouse. Barbara led the group, her expression cold, calculated, and full of authority. Behind her were her brothers, cousins, and a few cl

The two men who had charged at Logan were unlike any ordinary enforcers the Sullivan family had ever employed. They were gigantic in stature, towering over everyone in the room, their broad shoulders stretching the seams of their dark outfits as if the fabric itself struggled to contain them. Thick veins ran along their arms like coiled ropes, pulsing beneath scarred skin that told stories no one dared to ask about. Their faces were hard and unforgiving, carved by years of violence and hardened by countless brutal encounters. Just standing there, they radiated menace, an oppressive weight that pressed down on the air itself. Their eyes were cold and predatory, sweeping the room with the detached hunger of men who had broken others for a living—enough to terrify even the bravest soul.Several members of the Sullivan family instinctively stepped back, their hearts pounding so loudly they were certain others could hear it. A few clutched the arms of chairs or reached for the wall behind