Page 119 of BounBound By Scars

“Please, brother.”

Logan’s voice dipped—rougher this time. Not a command. A plea.

But I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t drink. Could barely stand upright half the time.

I glanced up at him, and the way he winced told me enough. I must look like a fucking corpse.

Of all the missions, all the firefights, all the reckless shit we’ve survived—why did it have to be this? Why her?

Why didn’t I insist we stick together? Why did I let her split off?

“Just have some juice, then,” Logan said softly.

I took the glass from him, because it was easier than resisting.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop. They coiled tighter. Louder. Meaner.

I should’ve moved faster. I should’ve turned back sooner.

Fuck—better yet, I should’ve dragged her with me. Made her stay.

“She’s not gone,” Logan said, reading my silence like a goddamn mirror. “Stop blaming yourself. You’ll spiral this way.”

“I…” My voice cracked, dry with disuse. It hurt just to speak. “I just need to redo that minute.”

Logan leaned in, his brows pulled tight. “What minute?”

I looked up, and I hated the way his concern almost broke me. His voice—so gentle, so steady—it made my chest ache.

“The minute I let her leave,” I said, the words barely making it out. Shaky. Fragile. My voice quivered like it was trying to hold itself together.

But there was no strength left in me.

Logan’s hand landed on my shoulder. Firm. Warm. But it didn’t fix anything.

He just let out a breath. Long. Defeated.

Footsteps broke through the fog in my mind, pulling my attention toward the hallway.

Kaylan.

She’d been working at the clinic ever since Operation Tantalus, overseeing Amelia’s case personally. But why was she here now? Why wasn’t she in her room?

Something tightened in my chest. Had something happened?

Panic crawled up my spine like fire licking up bone. My breathing hitched—I didn’t even realize I was shaking until Logan cupped my face between his hands, grounding me.

“Nothing’s wrong. Hey—hey, hey. Look at me.” His voice was urgent, firm. “She’s fine.”

I didn’t understand why his reaction felt so desperate—until I felt it.

The sting. The warmth.

Hot blood was dripping from my hand. My fingers had clenched around the glass so tightly I’d shattered it. I hadn’t even noticed. Shards embedded deep, crimson drops staining the pristine white marble.

Kaylan was beside me in seconds, calm and efficient. She took the glass from my hand, gently pried my fingers open, and checked the cuts. Cleaning them with a napkin.

I didn’t feel any of it.