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CHAPTER 40

LOGAN

S omething was wrong. When I looked at my phone after practice, my app showed that Sloane wasn’t at our place—she was at her old condo. The one I kept paying contractors to mess up so she wouldn’t be able to ever move back in.

Why was she there?

Grabbing my bag, I hustled out of the locker room, ignoring the guys calling after me.

Something had happened.

I tried to call her all the way to my truck…and then the entire drive over to her condo.

But she didn’t pick up.

Checking the camera in her necklace, all I could see was dark brown—meaning she’d set it somewhere.

I kept pulling up the app, making sure it said she was still at her building. And every time it confirmed it, my stomach tightened. After everything that had happened—everything she’d told me and the things I’d pieced together—I couldn’t stand the thought of her being there.

By the time I pulled into the lot outside her high-rise, my jaw was clenched so tight it ached. I killed the engine and stalked inside, ignoring the polished lobby and the false sense of security it tried to exude. The elevator loomed in front of me like a challenge. I punched in the code to get up to her penthouse, tapping my foot anxiously as I waited, but the screen blinked red.

Fuck. She’d changed the code.

I stood there for a second, glaring at the keypad, before spinning on my heel and heading for the empty front desk. No one ever manned it. You had to press a buzzer and then someone came from the back. A useful setup for when I’d gone up to her place that first night…and the rat situation, but annoying now.

I pressed the buzzer five times, sighing in relief when an employee—a wiry guy with thick glasses and a wary expression—opened a door and peeked out.

“Hey,” I called, trying to summon up my charm, even though the last thing I felt was charming. “I need to get up to my girlfriend’s place. I forgot the code and she’s not answering her texts.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “She’s probably wrapped up in a Real Housewives episode or something. She did this to me the other day too.”

He squinted at me. “You forgot the code?”

“Yep,” I said, trying to keep my tone steady. “I’m usually with her, so I haven’t needed it that much. Guess I learned my lesson.”

He stepped all the way out and stared at me, his eyes widening as he really took me in. Yeah, I guess all my tats and the fact that I was built like a god were probably a little intimidating.

After what felt like the longest wait of my life…he gulped and shook his head. “Can’t let anyone up without clearance. Building policy. Can you try just calling her some more?”

Fuck, he even had a quiver in his voice and everything. Just another reason that Sloane couldn’t stay here anymore. The security was ridiculously bad.

“Right.” I dug into my wallet, pulling out a couple of crisp bills. “How about now?”

His eyes flicked to the cash.

“Sorry, the answer’s still no. I’ll lose my job if anyone finds out.”

I pulled out some more cash. “How about now?” I growled, waving the bills in the air. I pulled out my phone as well, showing him some pictures of Sloane. “These are texts from her. I’m clearly her boyfriend.”

For a second, I thought he was still going to refuse, like any good employee should have. But then he lunged forward and grabbed the bills from my hand. “Fine. But if anyone asks, I didn’t help you,” he told me, unable to even look me in the eyes.

“Deal.” I followed him to the elevator where he fished a keycard out of his pocket, swiping it against the elevator panel. The doors slid open, and I stepped inside, already bracing myself for what I might find upstairs as it started to ascend.

The elevator doors slid open with a metallic hum, and the silence of her place was the first thing that hit me. My gut tightened as I walked into her foyer, the air sharp with the faint scent of cleaning products. The place looked immaculate—pristine even. Not a speck of dust, not a single out-of-place object. My teeth ground together. The contractors must have stopped dragging their feet on repairs. They’d be hearing from me later.

I walked around, glancing into rooms to see if she was there.

I hated every square inch of this place. Every time I was here, I wanted to claw at the walls…burn the whole fucking building down.

My jaw tightened when I saw the closed door to her bedroom. I tried the handle and the worry inside me only grew.

It was locked.

“Red?” I called through the door, my voice echoing in the sterile quiet. No answer.

I knocked again, harder this time. “Sloane, open the door. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”

Still nothing.

My knuckles hit the door once more, even harder, and my patience snapped. “Sloane, if you don’t open this motherfucking door, I’m busting it down.”

“Please,” she finally said, her voice trembling. “Just go away, Logan.”

Fuck. She had obviously been crying. Her voice didn’t sound right—it was small, shaky, like it had been stripped raw.

“Sloane.” I pressed my forehead against the door, my hand flat against the cool wood. “Let me in. Talk to me.”

My chest was heaving now, the red-hot edge of panic clawing its way up my throat. I didn’t bother knocking again. I stepped back, scanning the frame, and took a breath. One good hit should do it. I wouldn’t need to replace the door. Because she was never going to be in this place again.

The lock gave way with a loud crack as I slammed my shoulder into the wood. It flew open, slamming against the wall, and I froze in the doorway.

Sloane was on the bed, lying on her stomach, completely still. The room was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of a lamp on the nightstand. Her head was turned away from me, and she hadn’t even flinched at the noise I’d made breaking in.

A sick, twisting feeling settled in my gut as I stepped inside. “Sloane?” My voice sounded rough and hoarse, even to me. She didn’t respond.

I crossed the room in two strides, crouching down beside the bed. My heart was hammering as I reached out, my fingers barely brushing her back. The instant I made contact, she screamed—a sound so raw, so filled with pain, that it stopped me cold.

She tried to move, to pull away, but the sheets slid down as she twisted. That was when I saw them.

Welts. Bruises. Dark, angry marks covered Sloane’s back like a twisted map of every second of pain she’d endured.

“Fuck.” The word slipped out before I could stop it. My hand hovered uselessly above her, not daring to touch her again, not knowing how to help. Rage and helplessness warred inside me, leaving me shaking.

Her breathing was shallow, uneven, and she clutched the pillow beneath her like it was the only thing keeping her anchored.

“Sloane,” I said again, my voice breaking. I couldn’t keep the anger out of it, even though it wasn’t directed at her. “What?—?”

She didn’t answer, just turned her face into the pillow, muffling a quiet, broken sob. It sliced through me like a blade.

I moved around the bed, crouching again so I could see her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears streaking down her cheeks. She looked utterly defeated, like a shell of the woman I knew.

“I’m going to kill him,” I said, my voice low and full of fury. I didn’t even need her to say it. I knew who was responsible. I’d known the moment I walked in and saw her like this.

“Logan,” she rasped, her voice barely audible.

I leaned closer, trying to catch what she was saying. “I’m here, Sloane. I’ve got you. Just tell me what you need.”

Her eyes opened just a crack, glassy and filled with pain. “I told you…I don’t need saving. Because…I can’t be saved.”

My chest tightened, and I shook my head, taking a deep breath and trying to gentle my voice. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you home,” I said soothingly.

Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. “Logan, I can’t?—”

“You can,” I interrupted. “And you will. Because I’m not leaving this condo without you.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. For a long moment, she just stared at me, as if she was trying to decide whether to fight me or let me in.

Finally, she exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping. “Okay,” she murmured.

Relief coursed through me, but it was tempered by the simmering rage in my veins, rage that was only growing the longer I looked at what he’d done to her. I wiped a trembling hand down my face as I thought about all the ways I was going to make him pay.

One way or another, her uncle was going to pay.

But for now, all that mattered was getting her out of this place and somewhere I could keep her safe.

I carefully lifted her into my arms, not bothering to grab anything else as I stalked back to the elevator. Her tears were soaking my shirt, and every tear made me want to die.

“Logan, I went to him to tell him I was done,” she whispered as I stepped onto the elevator.

My whole body shuddered as the elevator descended.

“That’s my good girl,” I finally got out in a choked voice, even though every cell in my body was busy planning his demise. “That’s my good girl.”

* * *

I paced the length of my living room, my phone clutched tightly in my hand as I waited for Lincoln to pick up. My apartment was too quiet, save for the faint murmurs coming from the bedroom where the team doctor was helping Sloane. Every now and then, I caught the sound of her voice, soft and trembling. The image of her lying on that bed, beaten and broken, was burned into my mind, fueling a rage I couldn’t contain. The only thing keeping me from leaving and finding her uncle right now was because murder was a crime that would end up with me separated from her forever, something that was obviously unacceptable.

I was hoping Lincoln would have a plan.

The call finally connected. “Logan,” Lincoln answered, his voice calm and steady, the kind of voice that never wavered, no matter what.

“I need your help,” I said immediately, not bothering with pleasantries. My words came out sharp, clipped. “Sloane tried to be done tonight. Her uncle—” It was hard to finish. There was so much rage and hate inside me right now. “He beat the fucking shit out of her.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, heavy and deliberate. Then Lincoln’s voice dropped, colder than I’d ever heard it. “He won’t be a problem for much longer.”

“He’s not going to let her go,” I said quietly, pacing faster, my free hand raking through my hair. The anger boiling in my chest was spilling over, making it hard to think straight. “I need to figure something?—”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t have a choice,” Lincoln interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll get to work on it.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead. I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at the screen. I hadn’t even given him the details—no names, no specifics, nothing. Which could only mean one thing.

Lincoln already knew.

A sharp, humorless smile tugged at my lips, something I didn’t think I was capable of at the moment. “Fucking stalker,” I muttered, shaking my head as I let the phone drop to my side.

The bedroom door creaked open, and I turned to see the team doctor stepping out. His face was grim, but there was a professionalism to his expression that kept my panic at bay.

“She’s resting now,” he said, his voice low. “But she’s in a lot of pain. I don’t think we need to worry about internal bleeding, and I don’t think anything’s broken. It mainly looks to be severe bruising and welts. She’ll need time to heal—and someone to watch over her.”

I nodded, my throat tightening as his words sank in. “I’ll be here,” I said, my voice firm and unyielding. “Whatever she needs.”

The doctor studied me for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Good. She needs a safe place. I gave her some pain meds and something to help her sleep. The bottles are on the table next to her, along with instructions for when she needs them next.” He gathered his bag and left without another word, leaving me standing alone in the quiet apartment.

I turned toward the bedroom door, staring at it like it could give me all the answers to every question that had been clawing at me since I’d found her like that.

The only thing I did know—I wasn’t going to let it happen ever again.

My fists clenched at my sides as I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to relax before I opened the door and joined her on the bed.

Lincoln was working on the problem. I didn’t know what he’d do, but honestly, I didn’t care.

Just as long as it ended with Everett bleeding and suffering and completely…destroyed.

* * *

SLOANE

And you know what I do with useless things…

I was back at Everett’s estate. The memories are disjointed, surreal, but so vivid I could feel the cold stone beneath my feet, the silence that hung in the air. The housekeeper had brought home a dog. A scrappy, brown mutt with wiry fur and eyes that I immediately loved. Its job was simple: hunt the rats and small animals sneaking into the estate. Nothing more.

At first, he did exactly that. Focused, determined, his nose always to the ground, darting after anything that scurried. But then he found me.

I wasn’t supposed to pay attention to the dog. I knew that. Everything had changed after the auction. Everything about my life had a purpose, a role. And yet, when those big, hopeful eyes met mine, something inside me cracked. I started sneaking him food under the table, small scraps I could hide in my hand. I’d crouch down when no one was looking, running my fingers through his coarse fur, whispering words I couldn’t say to anyone else.

It didn’t take long before the dog stopped hunting altogether. He followed me instead, his tail wagging whenever I came near. He didn’t want to do his job anymore—he wanted my attention, my love.

I should’ve known it would end badly. I should’ve seen it coming.

The scene shifted, and suddenly I was sitting on the porch steps. The dog lay beside me, his head resting on my knee as I scratched behind his ears. His long tail thumped lazily against the wooden planks, a soft sound that somehow felt louder than anything else in the quiet estate. For that brief moment, I let myself believe he was mine—something warm, something real in a place that had turned so cold.

The next morning, I looked everywhere. Around the estate, the gardens, the stables where it used to chase the rats. My calls echoed in the stillness, unanswered. Panic clawed at my chest, growing with every passing hour.

Later in the afternoon, I heard Everett’s sharp tone with a disappointed edge that made my stomach churn. “Looking for something, Sloane?”

I turned to see him standing there, his hands in his pockets, a faint smirk playing on his lips. My heart sank. “Rory,” I said quickly, the name slipping out before I could stop it. “The dog—I mean. Have you seen him?”

Everett’s smile grew, but it wasn’t kind. He gestured for me to follow, and I did, my legs heavy, dread pooling in my stomach with every step. He led me to the edge of the estate, past the tool shed. And that was when I saw him.

The dog’s lifeless body lay crumpled on the ground, its fur matted and its eyes dull. My breath caught in my throat, the world tilting beneath me.

“Why?” The word escaped in a broken whisper, barely audible over the roaring in my ears.

Everett’s voice was calm, matter-of-fact, like he was commenting on the weather. “He was useless. A dog that doesn’t do its job has no place here.”

I stared at the body, disbelief and grief crashing over me like a wave. Rory had trusted me. He’d stopped chasing the rats because he wanted to be with me. And now he was dead—because of me.

“You softened him,” Everett said, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “Made him weak. This is on you, Sloane. His death is your fault.”

His words hit like a blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I just stood there, staring at the small, broken body, guilt settling deep into my chest like an iron weight.

Everett leaned down, his voice a harsh whisper that sliced through the silence. “I don’t keep things that don’t serve a purpose. Remember that.”

I sat up with a gasp in the dark, tears streaming down my face, the dream lingering on my skin like the smell of rotten milk.

How had I ever thought Everett was a good man, that he had my best interests at heart? What kind of person kills a dog like that…and for that reason?

How had I been so stupid that those first two years of spoiling and kindness had somehow blinded me to how he really was? Why hadn’t I recognized the fact that he was a monster?

“Sloane?” Logan’s anxious voice called out, and then he was carefully folding me into his lap, making sure not to touch my back.

“It was just a bad dream,” I whispered, hating how weak I sounded.

“Of him?” he asked.

I didn’t answer, because we both knew. All my bad dreams the last few nights had been of Everett.

“I know you’ve already told me I’m wrong—but sometimes I can’t help but think…what if I had just walked away that night? What if I’d walked out of the house, just tried to make it on my own?”

Logan was silent for a moment.

“I don’t think he would have let you have the choice,” he began somberly. “He was giving you the illusion of a choice so he could manipulate you later on…but that night, it never would have ended up different.”

He was right. I knew he was right. I didn’t know why I’d been so insistent all these years that I was the one solely responsible for ruining my life…when the truth had been right in front of me all along.

The last few days I’d been going over everything that had happened over the years and what he’d said and done leading up to my eighteenth birthday.

My “choice” had been an illusion all along, and I’d spent these years playing into his hands by hating myself every single day for something I couldn’t have avoided if I’d tried.

As terrible as it was…that realization that I’d never had a choice at all, it was eye-opening. I hadn’t let myself even think of that possibility before I’d met Logan. But now that I’d come face-to-face with it, I felt my self-loathing and guilt drift away.

For the first time, I felt…lighter. Innocent. Like the pieces of myself I’d given away had just come back to me.

I was free.