BROOKLYN'S heart thudded in her chest as she stared at the wall clock in Logan's living room, the ticking echoing like a drum in her ears. Her eyes remained fixed on the hands, which seemed to move in slow motion, each second stretching into an eternity.
Her body was a canvas of bruises, a stark reminder of the horror she had endured. The vibrant colors of the room felt like they were slowly draining away, leaving only the stark reality of her pain. Each shallow breath she took seemed to resonate with the throb of her injuries, a grim symphony that played in the silence.
Logan sat opposite her, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination. His jaw was tight, his knuckles white as he clenched and unclenched his fists. "Lynn," he said, his voice a gentle rumble, "I need to ask you something. Do you know who it was?"
Brooklyn took a shaky breath, her eyes snapping to his. "I think it was Wilden," she whispered, the name tasting bitter on her tongue.
Logan's expression grew darker than the shadows in the corner of the room. "Wilden," he repeated through gritted teeth. "I swear, I should kill him." His fists tightened until his knuckles turned white, and the veins in his neck bulged.
Brooklyn's voice was barely a whisper. "I killed him," she said, her eyes wide with shock and fear.
Logan's eyes shot to hers, his expression a mix of disbelief and horror. "What?" he croaked out, his brain struggling to process her words.
Brooklyn's trembling hand went to her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut as she relived the moment. "He was standing there, right in the middle of the street, and he yelled that he would come back for me. And I was so scared, Logan. So scared." She took a deep, ragged breath, her chest heaving. "I just... I stepped on the gas. The car surged forward and he looked at me, and I saw the shock in his eyes right before..." Her voice trailed off, the memory too vivid, too painful to articulate.
Logan leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "You did what you had to do," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the turmoil he felt. He knew the weight of what she had just revealed would be crushing her, but she needed to understand that she wasn't to blame. "You were defending yourself."
But Brooklyn's tears fell like a storm, soaking the collar of her shirt. "Do you hate me?" she sobbed, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own fear.
"I could never hate you," Logan said, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. He reached out and took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gentle caress.
But Brooklyn's thoughts were a whirlwind of chaos. "My mom," she gasped, her eyes widening with a new wave of terror. "Oh my god, she must be so scared. What am I going to tell her?" The realization that her mother had been left in the dark about the whole ordeal washed over her, and she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
