Someone knew my name.
Someone got too close.
And now I understood exactly why Logan came back.
Because safety isn’t a vibe.
It’s a war.
Eight
LOGAN
Sawdust and cornbreadwas thick in the air, the kind of scent that should’ve made a man feel settled.
But I wasn’t settled.
Not even close.
We were halfway through bolting in the reinforced backdoor when I realized something was off. Scout wasn’t barking at the birds. Bella wasn’t laughing or muttering at him. The garden was quiet—too quiet.
Then it came.
A sharp bark.
Alert, not playful.
Followed by a sound that turned my blood to ice.
A scream.
Not loud. Not long. But real.
“Bella!”
My voice cracked like gunfire as I tore off the porch, boots sliding in the dirt. My hand was already on my Glock, finger near the trigger. The world went quiet. Every instinct sharpened. I ran toward the trees where Scout’s bark echoed louder, frantic.
I wasn’t just worried.
I was terrified.
Scout only made that sound when he sensed a threat. And Bella wasn’t the type to scream at a squirrel or twist her ankle on a root. Something was wrong.
Bullet came running behind me, axe in hand, ready for war.
The second I saw her silhouette standing just inside the tree line, clutching Scout’s collar and shaking—I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
But when I saw her eyes… wild, panicked, darting back toward the woods… my fury boiled over.
“What happened?” I reached her in two strides, cupping her face with both hands, eyes scanning her for blood, bruises—anything. “Talk to me, darlin’. You okay?”
She nodded shakily. “He was right there. He said my name. He smiled like heknewme, Logan. He touched Scout and then… he just stared. Too long. Like he was enjoying it.”
My spine snapped straight. Every muscle in my body went tense.
“Which way?” I asked, already turning.
She pointed, and that was all I needed.