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“Soon enough,” the killer said, returning to his equipment. “All will be revealed in the final composition. Until then, I suggest you both rest. Tonight promises to be . . . illuminating.”
CHAPTER
SIXTY-TWO
The basement fellsilent after the killer’s footsteps disappeared up the stairs.
Logan could hear him moving around above them, preparing whatever twisted finale he had planned. The sound of equipment being moved, doors opening and closing—the methodical preparations of a madman.
He glanced at Morgan, unable to hide his worry. “Did he hurt you? Physically, I mean?”
She shook her head, her dark hair falling across her face. “No. He . . . he just keeps sedating me. And he keeps talking. About his photographs, about how we’re creating art together, about how no one else understands my work the way he does.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s all mumbo jumbo, Logan. He’s completely delusional.”
A mixture of relief and rage rushed through Logan. Relief that Morgan wasn’t physically harmed. Rage at the psychological torture she’d endured.
“I’m going to get you out of here.” His jaw tightened so fast that an ache followed. But he meant the words.
“How? We’re both tied up, and?—”
He didn’t know how. But he couldn’t let her die.
“I’ll find a way.” Logan’s voice carried a conviction he wasn’t sure he felt. “Morgan, there’s something I need to tell you. In case . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
She looked at him with those intelligent eyes that had first captured his attention years ago. “What is it?”
Logan took a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry about Bobby.”
“What happened?”
“I was undercover with the Iron Brotherhood. I encouraged him to get out. I’d already gotten approval from my handler and had arranged for Bobby’s extraction and protection. I wasn’t going to let him go down with the others. But before I had the chance . . .”
Morgan remained silent, letting him continue.
“If I’d been a better undercover officer, if I’d kept my distance emotionally, Bobby might have surrendered. Might still be alive.” Logan met her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Morgan.”
Tears began sliding down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you trust me with this?”
“Because I fell in love with you from the moment we first met.” Logan’s voice cracked. “I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in your eyes. I was afraid I’d lose you.”
Morgan’s tears flowed freely now. “Logan, I . . .”
“I know I hurt you by keeping the truth from you. I’m sorry.”
“When you told me this at the award ceremony, I just needed more time to process what you said,” Morgan whispered. “It wasn’t that I hated you. I just . . . it was a lot.”
“Then it was too late,” Logan said.
“No.” Morgan’s voice grew stronger. “It’s not too late. We’re going to get out of here, and we’re going to have time to figure this out. Together.”
Logan wanted to believe her, wanted to hold onto that hope. But the sound of footsteps overhead reminded him of theirreality. Somewhere above them, a killer was preparing for his final masterpiece.
“I love you, Logan,” Morgan said suddenly. “I should have said it before. I should have said a lot of things.”
Logan’s heart seemed to break and heal simultaneously. After everything they’d been through, all the missed opportunities and unspoken words, Morgan was giving him the one thing he’d always wanted to hear.
“I love you too, Morgan.”
The footsteps stopped moving overhead, replaced by an eerie silence that made both of them tense. Then, drifting down through the floorboards, came the sound of laughter.
