Page 132 of Bonds of Pain
Heavy footsteps approach from the hallway, and Logan appears, still in his guard commander uniform. His golden eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demands, voice cutting through the chaos.
The guard captain steps forward. “Your Highness, we have orders to arrest these men on suspicion of involvement in Prince Ander’s murder.”
Logan goes white, the color draining from his face so quickly I half expect him to collapse. “There must be some mistake.”
“No mistake, Your Highness.” The captain’s voice is firm. “The order comes directly from the king himself.”
“This is absurd,” Logan says, his composure returning though his face remains unnaturally pale. “These men are my personal guard. My pack. They had nothing to do with my brother’s death.”
The guard captain looks uncomfortable but stands his ground. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but my orders are clear. If you have concerns about the arrest, you’ll need to take it up with His Majesty.”
“I will.” Logan’s voice drops to a dangerous register as he steps closer to the captain. “I most certainly will.”
The guards lead Poe and Ares toward the door. Neither man looks back, their shoulders set with resignation.
“Logan,” I find myself saying, my voice hoarse with disuse. “What is happening?”
He doesn’t answer me, his attention fixed on the retreating guards as they escort his packmates from the apartment. The muscles in his jaw work beneath his skin, rage and fear battling for dominance in his expression.
The moment the door closes behind them, Logan turns and stalks toward the exit, his movements tightly controlled like a predator preparing to strike.
“Where are you going?” Cillian calls after him.
“To see my father,” Logan snarls without looking back. “And to find out what the fuck is really going on.”
The door slams behind him with enough force to make the walls shake, leaving Cillian and me alone in the devastated apartment. The silence that follows feels oppressive, broken only by the sound of our breathing.
I stand motionless in the hallway, staring at Cillian’s back as he watches the closed door as if trying to decide whether to follow. The devastated apartment around us feels like the aftermath of a storm—broken furniture, shattered glass, and the lingering aura of violence.
“I’m sorry,” Cillian says suddenly, turning to face me. His eyes are haunted, his pale face drawn with exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Maya. For everything.”
“You should be,” I reply, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
“I know.” He runs a hand through his pale hair, leaving it standing on end. “I’ve been complicit in everything that’s happened to you. I could have stopped it, should have stopped it, but I didn’t. I was too afraid.”
There’s something in his voice I’ve never heard before, raw honesty stripped of any pretense. I look at him more closely, noticing the slight tremor in his hands, the dark circles under his eyes.
“Afraid of what?” I ask carefully.
Cillian gestures helplessly. “Of Logan. Of losing my place here. Of what would happen if...” He trails off, swallowing hard. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse for what we—what I—did to you.”
I absently touch the bandage on my chest, feeling the cuts throb beneath. “You could have refused.”
“And then Logan would have used an Alpha command on me.” His voice drops to barely above a whisper. “If I was going to do it, I was at least going to own the choice.”
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
“I would never ask you to.” He meets my eyes directly. “But everything that’s happened—it’s because of me. Because of whatI am. Logan killed Ander to protect me, and now we’re all paying the price.”
I don’t have the energy to pretend surprise.
“I know,” I tell him, clarifying at the confusion in his expression. “About Ander. I already know that Logan killed him.”
Cillian takes a deep and shaking breath. “How?”
I shrug. “It was pretty obvious when I stopped to think about it. You all are more obvious than you think.”
