Chapter 103

Logan

I didn’t think she could get to me anymore. I thought I’d learned all of her cruelties, the different shades of her violence and manipulation. I would have hoped that after so much time spent with Emma, I would be able to tune out her games and her constant threats.

But then Emma leaned against the rotting doorframe, smiling in that feral cat way she always did, and I saw something in her expression that made me tense on instinct. A new tactic was at play, and I sensed it even before she dropped the one sentence that shattered everything.

“Evelyn’s dead, Logan.”

The words hit me like a stab to the gut. For a second, I just stared at her, every muscle in my body locking up. Then my mind began clawing at the idea, refusing to accept it. It was like oil and vinegar; the thoughts simply wouldn’t assimilate.

I would have known if she were dead. Surely I would have felt it.

“You’re lying,” I growled, though my voice cracked halfway through.

She tilted her head like she was pitying me, but every movement of hers held mockery.

“Why would I lie about that?” she asked in that purring voice of hers. “Your precious little princess is gone. You can stop fighting now. There’s no need to worry about a divorce. You can finally be mine. I’m the only one left who still cares about you, Logan. Especially with your mother gone.”

I couldn’t breathe. My chest burned like someone had poured acid onto it. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, like it was trying to chisel its way out of my chest.

It couldn’t be true. I refused it, rejected it.

Images of Evelyn’s smile flashed through my mind. Evelyn, Evelyn, Evelyn. My guiding light through this torment and chaos. My wife. My princess. My world.

Something inside me snapped.

In an instant, grief was replaced with fury. With a roar, I lunged at Emma, the chains her rogues had bound me in biting into my wrists as I shoved her back against the wall. She gasped, the smug mask slipping just for an instant. I felt a ping of delight at the expression. I wanted to tear her apart with my bare hands.

“You did this!” I shouted, shaking her hard enough that her teeth clicked together. “If she really is dead, then it’s your fault. How could you ever think I’d want you after that? You…” I couldn’t even form the words with such rage boiling in my blood. I bared my teeth at her instead, fangs poised to tear into her.

She scrambled, nails scratching my arm. In a slippery movement made easier by my bound hands disadvantaging me, she managed to wrench herself free. I tried to grab for her again, but she scrambled, nearly tripping over herself as she slipped out of the doorway. Before I could even move, the lock slammed shut between us.

Her smirk was back now, though it was a little tighter and weaker. “Fine. Choose to be stubborn. I could still give you a life, a good life, if only you saw how good we would be together. But in the meantime, you can starve in there, Logan. And if you don’t come around to your reality, you will die. Scott will be free then to take care of what’s left of you. I imagine he’ll be hungry enough to eat the corpse you leave behind.”

She turned away, her boots pounding on the warped floorboards until the sound faded and I was alone with Scott again.

I stood there for a beat, chest heaving. My mind continued to race in her absence. It couldn’t be true. It simply couldn’t.

And then I heard a slow, wet breathing behind me. The sound was so primal and strange in the midst of my swirling thoughts, it made me tense in an instant.

I turned, slowly, to face the sound. Scott was crouched in the far corner, his one remaining arm propping him up as he stared at me. His pupils were blown wide, his lips cracked and bleeding. The bruising on his face was just beginning to turn a sickly shade of green.

“You heard her,” he rasped. “I’m starving. And you staying alive is just wasting everyone’s time.”

“Scott,” I said cautiously. “Don’t do this. It’s what she wants.”

“But what about what I want?” he asked. “Right now, I am very, very hungry, and all I want is something to sink my teeth into.”

Without further prompting, he lunged.

The space was too small to dodge, too small to get my footing, especially on such short notice. His weight slammed into me, his teeth snapping at my shoulder and coming away with a hasty mouthful of my shirt sleeve. I shoved him back, stumbling, the chains on my wrists rattling against my bones.

“Scott, stop this!” I snarled, trying to twist away.

But he was desperate, made feral by days of hunger and the blood loss that came with losing his arm. The nails on his remaining hand scraped my side, and I felt it rake open skin.

He was so close that I could smell the sourness of his breath. We went down hard, rolling on the warped floorboards, my wrists still bound together. I had no leverage, no clean shot at him.

He got close enough that his teeth grazed my collarbone, giving him his first taste of blood. I watched his eyes widen in fleeting victory, and I saw red.

With a surge of strength I didn’t know I still had, I slammed my head into his. He grunted and went slack for a second, but it was just enough for me to shift my weight and drive my knee into his ribs. Then I threw my bound hands forward, the chain catching him across the temple. For good measure, I pummeled the stump of his missing arm as well, making him cry out in fresh agony.

The pain must have been quite intense, because one moment, he was exclaiming, eyes wide and body rigid. And then he lost consciousness. Scott slumped to the ground, unmoving.

I staggered back, chest heaving, my pulse roaring in my ears as I kept my eyes trained on him, waiting for him to pop back up and lunge. But he didn’t.

I noticed then that his head was bleeding. Dark blood was pooling and staining the wooden floorboards.

“Scott?” I asked, though my voice came out hoarse and weak.

No response.

Though he had just been attacking me seconds before, panic gnawed at me. I’d meant to stop him, not to kill him.

I crouched over him, my heart hammering, trying to see if his chest was still rising.

The room reeked of blood suddenly, metallic and cloying, and the air felt heavier with each second.

I turned my back to Scott’s prone body and tried to refocus my thoughts. If Emma was telling the truth about Evelyn, I didn’t know how much longer I even cared to keep breathing. But I was nearly certain she had just said as much to try and manipulate me.

And if she was lying, then I needed to survive. For her. For the chance to tear this entire place down, along with Emma. And clearly, I was more than ready to fight for it.