Veins of Violet || Logan Howlett

First Impressions

I watched as the man—Logan, Hank had called him—stormed off down the hallway, his shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides. There was something almost animalistic about the way he moved, like a predator barely keeping itself in check. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach.

Who the hell was he?

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen, replaying the brief encounter in my mind. Logan's eyes had been so intense, filled with something I couldn't quite put my finger on—desperation? Anger? Whatever it was, it left me on edge. He looked at me like I was supposed to know him, like I was supposed to say something, do something, but I had no idea what.

I turned to Hank, who was still beside me, his expression a mix of concern and something else—sympathy, maybe. I didn't like that look; it made me feel like I was some sort of fragile thing that needed handling with care.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice and failing.

Hank hesitated, his gaze flickering down the hallway where Logan had disappeared. "It's nothing ," he said finally. "It's... complicated."

"Complicated?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes. "That's one way to put it. He just barges in here, glaring at me like I've done something wrong, and then storms off without a word? Who does that?"

Hank gave me a small, placating smile. "Logan's not usually like that," he said, choosing his words carefully. "He's been through a lot lately."

I crossed my arms, frustration bubbling to the surface. "And I haven't? Everyone here keeps talking to me like I should know what's going on, but no one's actually telling me anything. I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark, and now this Logan guy shows up, acting like I owe him something. What's his deal?"

Hank's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "I know this is all really confusing, Violet. And I wish I could explain everything, but... some things are better left alone until you're ready."

"Ready for what?" I demanded, my patience wearing thin. "Everyone's treating me like I'm going to break if I get too much information, but I'm not some delicate flower. I can handle it. I just want to know the truth."

Hank sighed, looking like he wanted to say more but was holding back. "Give it time," he said gently. "Logan... he's just as lost as you are right now."

I frowned, not liking the sound of that. How could this man, this stranger, be just as lost as I am? It didn't make any sense. But before I could press further, Hank changed the subject, guiding me away from the hallway and back toward the heart of the mansion.

As we walked, I couldn't shake the image of Logan's face—those intense eyes, the way his jaw clenched like he was holding back something dangerous. It was like he was a bomb waiting to go off, and I was just the spark needed to set him off. But why?

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Hank and I continued with our tour and began walking through the mansion. As we passed by what looked like a huge living room, I spotted Laura sitting on one of the couches, her expression distant.

"Laura?" I said, confused as to why she was here. "What are you doing here?"

She looked up at me, then quickly glanced at Hank, like she was waiting for his permission to speak. The hesitation in her eyes made something inside me twist uncomfortably.

"I, um, uh..." Laura stammered, clearly unsure of what to say or how to say it. I could see the struggle on her face, and it only made me more frustrated.