Page 48 of Unspoken

"I don’t think you can see anything from here," I supply.

"Probably not," Logan agrees, then points at the red and blue lights down below, moving toward the casino entrance. "But since the police are here, I think they are going to retreat… for now."

"So we've lost them?" But even as I ask, part of me dreads the answer, the truth that might unravel the last threads holding me together.

"I believe so. Yes."

Closing my eyes, I inhale sharply and hold the air in my lungs for a moment before exhaling loudly. I don’t know if this is actually going to help me but I can’t think of anything else.

"Sasha?" Logan calls. His voice is softer this time.

I snap my eyes open and look up at him. "Are sure you’re not hurt? Sometimes adrenaline can make you feel like you’re fine when it’s the opposite."

I shake my head, still trying to process the insanity of it all. It's only when he steps closer, his large hands coming to rest on my arms, that I realize how close we really are—his body a solid mass of heat in the wet chill of the night.

His eyes lock onto mine, and something in his gaze—something a lot like care—snags at the raw edges of my emotions. This vulnerability I glimpse washes over me, like a tidal wave I can't outrun. Before I can think better of it, before I can stop myself, I lean in and press my lips to his.

It's a shock, a jolt of electricity that zings through my veins, filling my bloodstream with something new, something bright and warm. But it's over almost before it begins. Logan freezes. I feel it, feel the surprise, feel the confusion.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he takes hold of my shoulders and eases me back, putting space between us. The distance feels like a rift between worlds, and I'm left reeling, the kiss now hanging between us like something ugly.

"Sorry," I mumble, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and something else—something bitter and twisted. "I shouldn't have..."

The uncertainty etched into the lines of Logan’s face makes my stomach churn. His rejection stings.

"Sasha," he whispers, lost. "Let's just... focus on getting out of this alive, yeah?" His voice is gentle, but firm, a barrier thrown up against whatever might have bloomed in that reckless moment.

The burn of regret claws at my insides as the raindrops land on my forehead. I'm rooted to the spot, drenched in more than just the beginning downpour. The silence between Logan andme screams louder than the chaos we've fled, the void widening with each second he doesn't speak.

"Logan, I...," I start, but the words dissolve on my tongue, useless.

"We can't do this, Sasha. Not now."

"Right, of course." My voice is a mere murmur, lost against the thrumming of the rain. I turn away, watching the droplets shatter against the concrete like my foolish hopes hitting reality.

"Look at me," Logan's command is gentle.

I face him, steeling myself against the unreadable storm in his eyes. There's a war there, one I've inadvertently sparked, and I'm already mourning the loss before the battle has even begun.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't," he says, voice filled with something I can't place. "We need to stay alert."

"Alert. Got it."

Only my mind is anything but focused; it's a whirlwind of pointless what-ifs. "Logan?"

He continues to look at me.

"Please don’t tell Vlad," I plead.

"I won’t." Pause. "Now we need to get out of here." He's all business again, the bodyguard, the protector. And I'm just the charge, the responsibility. Nothing more.

CHAPTER 17

LOGAN

The Strip's neon lights are a vortex of color and sound that spins in my memory like a carousel on fire. Just twelve hours ago, Sasha and I weaved through the throngs of casino tourists while bullets meant for Sasha's heart bit into metal and glass. And then high above the chaos, where the city sprawled beneath us like a kingdom of fallen stars, Sasha kissed me.

Alexander Solovey kissed me.

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