Page 50 of Bound By Thorns
“Please leave,” she sobbed again, her voice breaking into a sharp, painful cry that splintered my heart. She needed space, not the source of her pain looming over her.
I let out a heavy sigh and turned to leave. Just as I was about to head out, I swore I heard her whisper something that may as well have been a death sentence to me.
“You’re my nightmare.”
???
When I made it back to the Blackthorn building, I was on autopilot. Somehow, I managed to drive back, park the car, and find my way to my room, but the details were hazy at best. My mind was tangled up with thoughts of Kaylan, and before I knew it, I was sitting alone, skipping dinner without realizing it.
A knock at my door snapped me back to reality. It was slightly ajar—I hadn’t even bothered to lock it.
“Lo?” Leora’s voice was soft but filled with concern.
I didn’t move from my chair by the window, my head heavy on my chest, lost in utter defeat. I heard her footsteps approach and then the soft sound of her settling into the chair opposite me.
“Logan?” she prompted gently. I looked up slowly, meeting her eyes. She flinched slightly at my appearance; my distress must have been visible.
“Talk to me?” she implored, moving to kneel before me, reaching for eye contact as I looked away, ashamed.
She took my hands in hers; they were warm, almost too warm against my cold skin, a reminder of how numbed I felt.
“Is Ronan Hayden around?” I asked, my voice raspy with a heavy fatigue.
She nodded, though confusion flickered in her eyes. Ronan Hayden, a towering figure whose sister, Riley, had died three months ago—the same time Kaylan was presumed dead.
“Where is he?” My voice was weary.
“I’m not sure, but I can find out,” she offered. “What do you need from Ronan, Lo?”
“Just wanted to see him,” I replied, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Inside, a storm of anticipation and hope swirled, banking on the chance to meet Ronan for what I really needed.
After Leora reluctantly left, sensing the impenetrable ice around me, I changed into gym clothes and headed out. Zane’s tip led me towards the armory on the command center floor.
I caught Ronan just as he was leaving the armory, a new handgun case in hand. “Ronan, right?” I called out, raising my hand.
Surprised, he acknowledged me, “You’re Logan. Back from the dead.”
My laugh lacked any real humor. “Zarek speaks highly of you. Shame we weren’t in the same troop at the CIA.”
We shook hands, his grip firm. “Shame, indeed.”
I took a breath before making my next move. “Interested in a spar? All disciplines included.”
Ronan sized me up, skepticism written all over his face. He was large, not quite as massive as Dylan but enough for what I had planned. He was perfect—an emotionally detached party and someone whose nerve I needed to test. His sister had fallen at the hands of Garret while I had survived. That was the leverage I planned to use if needed to provoke him into really giving me what I sought: a physical release from the emotional chaos entangling me.
“Sure,” Ronan agreed, though his eyes held a hint of suspicion. “Right now?”
I nodded. He motioned for me to follow him, leaving his new handgun case behind in the command center to pick up later. He exchanged brief greetings with a few colleagues before grabbing his gym bag from his office. Together, we headed to the gym. He disappeared into the changing room while I stood by, my nerves tingling with a mix of anxiety and resolve. This was necessary.
I wrapped my hands tightly and initially popped a mouthguard in place. After a moment’s thought, I scoffed at my own caution and pulled the mouthguard out.
Who cares if I lose a few teeth?
I tossed it aside and started shadow boxing to loosen up.
Ronan reemerged just as I heard the door click open again. I turned to see Leora entering, her smile warm but tentative. She wore the same dress she had on earlier, clearly not intending to participate but to observe. Poor Leora, she might not appreciate what was about to unfold.
The gym’s atmosphere was thick with tension, the dim lights casting long shadows across the mat where Ronan and I faced off. He was poised, muscles taut, a picture of focus and readiness.
