UNBROKEN PROMISE

~64~ Broken Nose

Oma lingered in the kitchen for a while after Logan left, her fingers absentmindedly smoothing over the edge of the table as her mind raced. Logan had never spoken to her like that before so possessive, so raw. And now, he had stormed off, probably to throw himself into work the way he always did when something was weighing on him.

She needed to clear her head.

And she needed to talk to Mama Becca.

With that decision made, she dusted off her hands, grabbed her shawl, and made her way to the main house.

Logan was stewing in the barn, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white. His whole body was stiff with tension, every muscle coiled like a snake ready to strike.

He wanted a fight.

No... he needed a fight.

His blood was boiling, and all he could think about was Matthew putting his hands on Oma, making her laugh, twirling her around like he had a right to.

Jacob leaned against a wooden beam, arms crossed as he watched his brother with an exasperated look. He’d known Logan long enough to recognize the way his shoulders were set, the way his jaw was locked tight.

"You best not go doin’ anything stupid," Jacob finally said, shaking his head.

Logan grunted in response, his eyes fixed on the barn door, silently waiting.

Jacob sighed heavily. “Logan—”

But before he could finish, the door creaked open.

Mathew stepped inside, walking toward the tool rack, completely unaware that he’d just walked into a trap.

Logan shot up from where he was sitting, his boots pounding against the floor as he crossed the space in three quick strides. Before Mathew could react, Logan swung, his fist connecting with Mathew’s face with a sickening crack.

Mathew staggered back, a sharp curse leaving his mouth as blood gushed from his nose. But Logan wasn’t done.

Not nearly done.

He grabbed Mathew by the collar and slammed him against the wooden beam, his forearm pressing hard against the younger man’s chest.

"You touch her again, and I swear on my life—"

"Logan!" Jacob’s voice cut through the haze, but Logan didn’t move.

Mathew coughed, his eyes wide with shock. His hands went up in surrender, his breath coming in short gasps. "I—I wasn’t tryin’ to—"

But Logan didn’t want to hear it.

Logan’s free hand curled into another fist, ready to land another blow. His rage was a storm, raw and unchecked, roaring in his ears. He wanted to hit Mathew again—to make sure the bastard understood that Oma wasn’t his to smile at, to joke with, to touch.

But before he could throw another punch, Jacob was there, his strong arms wrenching Logan backward with force.

“That’s enough!” Jacob barked, shoving Logan a few steps away. He turned to the other ranch hands, who had gathered around, their faces a mix of shock and apprehension.

“I want every one of you outta here,” Jacob snapped, his glare sharp as a blade. “If y’all are just gonna stand here gawkin’ instead of workin’, you might as well pack your damn things and go.”

The ranch hands hesitated only for a moment before quickly dispersing, some exchanging nervous glances before hurrying back to their tasks.

Jacob then turned to the nearest hand and pointed at Mathew, who was still reeling from the blow, blood dripping onto his shirt. “Get him cleaned up. And you—” Jacob’s gaze locked onto Mathew with warning. “If I hear one more thing about you sniffin’ around Logan’s wife, I’ll personally drag you off this land myself.”