Chapter 3 The Devil's Lair

Dawn's Point of View

It felt like I was sleeping on clouds; that is how soft the beddings felt against my back, but I don’t remember falling asleep. My eyes snapped open, taking in my environment, and then I realized that I was lying on a big fluffy bed. 

How on earth did I get in here? My hands frantically searched my body for a missing cloth or anything to prove that I’ve been touched—but nothing.

The door suddenly opened, and the moment my eyes met the blue eyes that belonged to Logan, my blood turned cold. 

“You’re awake.” He muttered, with that disappointed look on his face. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. 

“You mean what I’m doing in my house?” 

Truly, this was his house, and I’m the one trespassing. I scampered off the bed, looking around for my stuff. I grabbed my bag and phone from the bedside table. I walked past him, just planning to leave as quietly as I came, but he grabbed me. 

“Let go of me,” I snapped, trying to wrench my arms from his grip. 

“Won’t you stay for breakfast?” 

I snorted; was this some kind of joke? “And why the hell will I want to have breakfast with you?”

“Because the cooks made one for you already, and you look so hungry you could pass out any moment from now.”

He wasn’t wrong about me being hungry.

"It's none of your business if I pass out or not.” I tried to jerk out of his grip, but he didn’t let me. 

“I don’t want the cops looking for me if you passed out from hunger on a random street, since my house is your last known location.” 

Staring into his very serious eyes, I realized struggling might be futile after all. 

“Today is Monday." I tried a softer approach. “I cannot afford to be late.” 

“There is still plenty of time.” He leaned closer to me, making me flush. “You’ll save yourself a lot of time if you just stop being stubborn—the security won’t let you out until I say so, so you better eat.” 

My eyes flickered from the plate of freshly baked toast with eggs towards Logan, who was just sitting in front of me, watching me intently. 

“Why are you suddenly being nice?” The words slipped out of my lips, and he blinked. 

“I’m nice.” He smirks, and I scoff. “This is just a token of appreciation for finally giving in and agreeing to change the date.” 

“You’re just doing this to make sure I stick to my promise.” I retorted. 

“You’re smart, but you should know that’s now how I think.” He cut through a piece of sausage. “I still have those photos; I won’t completely delete them until the date is fixed like you promised.”

The food suddenly turned sour in my mouth—yeah right, was I really expecting the leopard to change its spots?

“I’m sure you don’t want to trend that way, do you?” A mocking glint remained in his eyes. 

I clutched my books tightly as I walked along the hallways towards my classroom; from the corner of my eyes, I could see people pointing and laughing at me.

“Did you hear she got dumped at the party?” The whispers were not so quiet.

“She never stood a chance against Dorothy.” One of them laughed, but with my head held up high, I walked to my classroom. “Even I would dump my girlfriend for her.” 

Nothing mattered. 

I had one purpose today, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. I gathered my team, and after a few discussions, we finalized the competition date for next month—just like I promised Logan—and then submitted the proposal for the approval of the board.

The next three days passed by in a blur, and at the end of the third day, it was announced that the competition had been successfully rescheduled. 

I felt relief pressed against my chest—there. I hope Logan is fucking happy now. I left the school earlier today because I was supposed to be moving with my mother to Luther’s house. 

Even though I was deeply saddened by her choice, I couldn’t complain any longer; her decision is final—I joined her to pack our stuff. 

“We are here!” Mother squealed, and only then did I lift my eyes from the book in my hands, staring at the mansion that towered before us, all too familiar because I was here on Sunday evening; I shook my head. 

“Is this Luther’s house?” I asked in horror.

“Yes, big, right?” Mother grinned as she got out of the car. “I told you we are getting a good life from now on!” 

No… My heart pounded hard in my chest; that wasn’t what I meant. 

Cold sweat pooled on my forehead as I recalled Logan mentioning something about his father getting married; I shook the thoughts out of my head. 

Dread filled me as I walked through the very familiar gates of the mansion and further into the living room. 

“Honey.” Mother squealed as she jumped on Luther, who caught her, smiling widely. My eyes went wide, glued to the portrait on the wall—a picture of Logan fucking Ashton. 

“No…” I whispered, my hands trembling. 

Luther stepped towards me. “That’s my son, Benjamin.” 

Benjamin… My eyes darted between Luther and the portrait; I’m fucking sure that is Logan. Is he not called Logan at home? Or does Logan have a twin? There were a lot of questions in my head, but they all died in my throat.

I climbed up the stairs, dragging my suitcase along with me, settling in the room that was given to me. I put my things together when I realized my diary was not in the bag. It’s probably still in the van; I checked from the window, and the van was still there. 

I dashed out of the room, sprinting down the stairs, and I almost crashed into Logan and two of his friends, Henry and Sonny, a member of the hockey team. 

“Are my eyes playing games with me?” Sonny asked, turning towards Logan. “Or am I looking at the scholarship freak?” 

“What the hell is she doing here?” Henry asked as well.

And my eyes locked with Logan’s cold and unforgiving blue eyes, which held raw surprise.

“That’s what I would like to know as well, Dawn.” His jaws clenched, and I stumbled back. “What the fuck are you doing here?”