When We Met

CH 18 Logan

I strode out of the interrogation room, every muscle in my body still coiled tight from the intense scuffle with Rosalie. Part of me wanted to turn back, to check on her condition after our brutal physicality. But I promptly shoved that impulse aside - she was the enemy, nothing more.

Flagging down two of my most trusted guards positioned outside, I gave them a steely glare. "Do not let her out of this room. And don't return her to the general holding area with the others just yet." I paused, something niggling at the back of my mind. "In fact, get a nurse in here to check her over and bring her provisions - food, water, a change of clothes."

The guards exchanged a confused look but knew better than to question my orders directly. With a gruff acknowledgement, they moved to follow my instructions as I continued down the corridor, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

What the hell had gotten into me back there? I'd never once raised a hand to a woman before, let alone engaged in outright combat. The anger, the violence - it went against every shred of honour I still tried to cling to in this god-forsaken world. And yet in that moment, something primal had awoken, pushing me to savage extremes.

Perhaps it was the way Rosalie's lithe, toned body had moved with such lethal grace, so deceptively dangerous. Or the fire that raged so bright behind those expressive eyes, utterly devoid of fear even when utterly defenceless against my superior strength.

I squeezed my eyes shut, still able to feel the imprint of her delicate curves crushed against me, the brush of her quickened breaths fanning across my face. The thought of her soft, lush lips prompted an involuntary tightening low in my gut and I gritted my teeth.

Get a grip, you fool. She's the enemy - a means to an end. I couldn't afford to lose sight of my objective, not when my sister's life was at stake if I showed even an ounce of weakness.

But Rosalie...she wasn't like the others. She was a true warrior, just as I was. Cut from that same uncompromising cloth, destined for violence, yet inextricably drawn to something more. Something that whispered of light and purpose amidst this all-consuming darkness.

Shaking my head sharply, I picked up my pace, forcing myself to re-centre. I couldn't allow myself to be swayed by foolish notions. Rosalie held the key to the missing heir, and I needed to regain control over this situation before it spiralled completely out of my grasp.

One way or another, I would break her - because failing was no longer an option.

The throbbing in my broken nose reminded me how I'd underestimated Rosalie. One minute, I pleaded for her trust to cease the bloodshed. The next, she attacked like a feral beast, razor hairpin at my throat.

I should have seen it coming - never let her get so close. Those exotic eyes spoke of peace, and foolishly, I believed her ruse. I clenched my fist, pushing aside those thoughts. Rosalie was a manipulator bred to deceive her crime family. I wouldn't underestimate her again.

A heavy-handed approach was needed to break her resolve. I'd tried civility, promising amnesty for information. She rebuffed it with violence. Fine, if that's how she wanted to play.

In my room, I poured a glass of whisky, draining half in one burning swallow. Eyes closed, I pictured her feral defiance as she head-butted me, chest heaving with exertion - all sinewy muscle beckoning something primal within me.

I gripped the counter, reining in the scorching heat blazing low in my abdomen. Our bodies grappling for dominance seared into my mind.

Tossing back the rest, I vowed this lapse wouldn't happen again. Next time, kid gloves were off. When we inevitably clashed again, Rosalie wouldn't know what hit her. One way or another, I'd pry those secrets from her luscious lips, even if extracting each whimper agonisingly.

I was just about to top myself up with a stiff whisky when there was a tiny knock at the door, making me pause. I furrowed my brow, didn't I? Set the glass down and went to answer it, bracing myself for whatever bloody catastrophe needed sorting now.

But the sight that met me melted any irritation right away. It was my little sis Maria, looking smaller than a mouse, hovering at the door all frightened-like with those great big eyes of hers swimming in fear.

"Maria..." I let out her name like it was a little prayer, that protective big brother feeling flaring up hot in my chest. "What's got you up and about at this hour, poppet? Bad dream again?"

She blinked up at me with those soulful peepers that could undo a bloke completely. "I...I had another nightmare, Logie," she confessed, using that daft little nickname from when we were sprogs. "The darkness...it was coming for me once more."

I felt like someone knocked the wind right out of me as I swiftly pulled her into a proper embrace, her trembling against me. The poor mite was shaking like a leaf, her slight little frame practically disappearing in my arms as I stroked her silky hair.

"Shhh, it's alright, darling girl. Big brother's got you now," I murmured gruffly. "That wretched darkness can't touch you here, you have my word."

God, she was so bloody innocent - the only light left in my world of brutality and sin. Thoughts of Noah, my older brother lost to the depravity years ago, came unbidden. His mind was well and truly shattered by the life we were groomed for since birth. I failed to save him from that pit...but I won't fail Maria.

I pressed a fierce kiss to the top of her head, clutching her tighter, like I could somehow shield her from the harsh realities lurking just outside these walls. She trusted me, this sweet girl who still only saw the good in everything. She was the sole reason I kept fighting, kept trying to claw through the ever-growing darkness.

"I won't let that bloody darkness claim you, poppet," I vowed in a low rasp against her hair. "No matter what devil I have to wrestle...you'll always be safe with your big brother."

For now, at least, I could make that empty promise and have her believe it with all her heart. But deep down, that gnawing sense of dread festered stronger every day. With each breath, the path I walked grew murkier, blacker.

And I feared with a sick certainty that eventually, no good intentions would be enough to save Maria's bright little soul from being utterly snuffed out.