Eunoia | Logan Howlett

06

Evangeline stirs awake, her senses gradually coming back to her in disorienting waves. The first thing she registers is the creaking of an old bed spring beneath her, followed by the scratchy texture of a thin blanket against her skin. Her body aches, the lingering effects of the torture still fresh, and she winces as she tries to sit up, her movements slow and deliberate.

Her eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through a small window. The room is unfamiliar, with peeling wallpaper and a musty smell that permeates the air. Panic sets in as she struggles to remember how she ended up here. The last thing she recalls is Logan's fierce expression and the darkness closing in around her.

She scans the room, her gaze landing on Logan, who is asleep on a shabby couch against the far wall. His presence is both a comfort and a mystery, and her brows furrow as she takes in the sight of him. He looks different in this vulnerable state, almost peaceful, but the dried blood on his knuckles and shirt tells a different story.

Quietly, Evangeline swings her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the cold, creaky floor. She moves cautiously, trying not to wake him, but each step sends a jolt of pain through her body. She pauses, her eyes fixated on the dried blood, and suddenly, everything comes flooding back—the torture, the fear, Logan's timely arrival.

A particularly loud squeak under her foot breaks the silence, and Logan's eyes snap open. He sits up abruptly, his senses on high alert, and his gaze locks onto her. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"You didn't need to save me," Evangeline says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan's eyes darken, and he stands, crossing the small distance between them in a few strides.

"You're right," He says, his tone hard, "I didn't need to."

She flinches at the anger in his voice, but she refuses to back down, "I could've handled it."

"Sure, you could've," He snaps, his frustration evident, "Look where that got you."

Evangeline's fists clench at her sides, "I don't need anyone to save me, Logan. I'm not some damsel in distress."

His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check, "You think I don't know that? You think I don't get it?"

She steps closer, her eyes blazing with defiance, "Why? Why do you care?"

"Because I can't help it!" He shouts, his voice echoing in the small room, "Because no matter how hard I try, I can't stay away from you."

The raw intensity in his eyes takes her breath away, and for a moment, she sees past the gruff exterior to the turmoil beneath.

"Logan," She begins, but he cuts her off.

"No," He says, his voice rough, "You need to understand something. I've been through hell, seen things you can't imagine. I've tried to keep my distance, tried to stay away, but it's like you're a magnet, pulling me back every damn time."

Evangeline's heart pounds in her chest, and she steps even closer, her eyes searching his, "Then don't stay away."

His expression hardens, and he looks away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"You don't know what you're asking for," He says, his voice low and dangerous.

"Maybe I do," She says softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

At her touch, something snaps in Logan. His claws extend with a metallic snikt, and he turns to her, his eyes wild.

"This is what I am," He growls, holding up his claws, "You want this in your life? You want this kind of danger?"