Escaping Death

Chapter 14

Call me monster or a saint I'll still get you either way, baby

If you scream, I will tie you up. Keeping it rough but call it love

I am aimed to kill

I am made to kill

Love the thrill

Aimed to Kill - Jade LeMac

— — — — —

Nightshade

Another day, another name.

Logan Shaw.

Took me all of twelve hours to hunt him down. He's not exactly subtle.

He has a history of leaving a trail of battered and broken women in his wake.

Rumor has it that Logan Shaw met his mate when he was 21 and she was 16. He resisted as much as he could; though she was his mate, she was still just a teen. It wouldn't be appropriate to claim her until she was 18. At first he threw caution to the wind and allowed himself to grow close to her.

It always starts out the same. They start off as your friend, innocent. But as time goes on the jokes become more intimate, the gazes linger, there's a hesitation every time he has to take his fingertips off your skin or let go of your hand.

He had no business implanting himself into the heart of a young girl, regardless that he's her mate. But that's what he did. He broke his own rule, he allowed her to fall in love with him, he kissed her and yearned for her and made no attempt to hide the effect she had on him.

And like the selfish, arrogant, piece of shit that he is, he pushed her away. Threw her away, actually.

He filled her heart with longing and desire for a romance that should have been hers — that would have been hers...in good time. Then, instead of telling her the truth, instead of being honest and asking her to wait for him, to let him let her grow up and mature before he made her his...he made her believe that he didn't want her, that she wasn't worthy.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone that on her 18th birthday, when he called her for the first time in almost two years, she had begun dating someone new. Someone who loved her like a mate should, who was open and honest, who believed this girl hung the moon and the stars.

Logan Shaw's mate ended up choosing this young man over him, over her own mate.

It's natural to want to feel sorry for Logan Shaw. The poor guy was already three years into his search for his mate only to find out he needed to wait two more. It's heartbreaking. Fucking tragic.

You'll find your sympathies for him waning when you learn that he killed his mate and her chosen mate a month later. If he couldn't have her, no one could.

But that wasn't enough for poor Logan Shaw. He spent the next decade traveling from pack to pack, wooing and charming young, impressionable, unmated she-wolves.

He'd pretend to love them, he'd pretend to care, right up until the point where he was sinking his canines into their necks, forcibly marking them against their will, claiming them as his.

Most of those girls ended up killing themselves, ashamed that they had so easily fallen for him hook, line, and sinker.

But not you.