The words cut deep—not because they're cruel, but because they're true. Because beneath the sharp edges, I hear the concern that makes them sting worse than anger ever could.
"You don't know what it's like," I say, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. "To watch everyone you care about get hurt because of you—because of the truth you carry."Because of words you can't take back.
He takes a step back, but his eyes stay locked on mine. The intensity softens, but doesn't fade. "You're not alone in this," he says quietly.
I want to believe him. God, how I want to believe that safety exists somewhere—that there's a version of this story where I don't end up alone or dead or responsible for someone else's blood.
But Dad's voice echoes in my head:
Not everyone around you gets to choose the fallout.
I turn away, moving to the window. Outside, snow falls in lazy spirals, each flake catching the morning light. It looks peaceful. Calm. Like the world isn't full of hunters and ghosts.
"I'm not ready to trust like that," I whisper. "Not yet."
The silence that follows feels heavy with possibility—and regret.
I sense Logan behind me, a solid presence radiating warmth and certainty. He doesn't push. Doesn't try to change my mind. Just stands there, offering strength without demands.
And that's almost worse.
Because it would be easier if he was angry. If he tried to force answers I'm not ready to give.
Instead, he just... waits. Like he has all the time in the world. Like he's not afraid of my demons or my distance.
I press my forehead against the cold glass, watching my breath fog the window. The tree line beyond seems to blur, edges softening in the falling snow.
Somewhere out there, G is watching. Planning. Maybe even smiling.
Logan's reflection appears beside mine in the glass. Not touching. Not speaking. Just there.
You're not alone in this.
The words echo in my chest, warring with every instinct that's kept me alive this long.
Because I want to believe him. Want to trust the safety he offers, the strength of his team, the promise in his eyes.
But I've seen what happens to people who try to help me.
I've buried too many promises already.
So I stay silent, watching the snow fall, feeling the heat of Logan's presence behind me. The pull between us is magnetic, undeniable—a force as strong as gravity and twice as dangerous.
But I don't turn around.
I can't.
Because if I do—if I let myself believe in the shelter of his arms or the safety of his promises—I might forget why I have to keep running.
And right now, that distance is the only thing keeping us both alive.
12
LOGAN
The girl at the table could destroy everything.
I watch Sloane from across The Forge's main hall, tracking the way she hunches over that notebook like it's both salvation and damnation.
