Page 70 of Pretty Dark Vows

It wasn’t just the cami and sleep pants that Logan destroyed.

Allmy clothes are shredded.

The bags Dante dropped off for me are opened, the clothes strewn over the floor. Logan must’ve done it before he ended up on the bed with me and I woke up, methodically pulling out each and every thing I own and slicing it into ribbons.

I stare at the carnage of shredded fabric around me, trying to piece together what I’m seeing. Something clearly set Logan off, but I have no idea what it was. I definitely haven’t gone into his room since he told me not to, so it couldn’t have been that. But what else could it be?

And if he truly hates me so much, why did he decimate my clothes… but barely touch me?

23

DANTE

“What did you find out?”Maddoc asks, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

The man looks fucking grim, and Logan is no better. It just makes me all the more determined to take what we’ve learned and bring West Point down. The shit they’ve been pulling hasn’t just been harming the organization, it’s also wearing on my brothers.

“They admitted that those fucking weasels have been giving them a hard time,” I say, grabbing an apple out of the bowl we keep on the counter and tossing it back and forth between my hands. “Threatening repercussions if they keep doing business with us.”

Maddoc scowls, even though there’s no way he’s surprised. The whole reason he sent me and Logan to lean on this particular supplier was because we suspected that their recent change of heart had something to do with West Point.

Turns out we were right.

“How much of our business is West Point actively interfering with?” Maddoc asks, his expression hard.

“Too much,” I say before Logan can jump in with the facts and figures he’s no doubt got burned into his brain. Important info, for sure, but my answer is correct too. “We need to deal with this shit already, Madd.”

He nods, his jaw clenched tight. “We will.”

“Good,” I say, a grin spreading across my face as my blood heats up. I bite into the apple, letting its sweetness burst over my tongue. “So when do we move?”

“Not yet,” Maddoc tells me, his tone measured. “We need to have a talk with McKenna first.”

I scoff. “Talk?”

We all know West Point is fucking with us. Lately, every pile of shit we turn over stinks of them. McKenna is clearly trying to escalate things, but even though we’ve addressed some of the direct interference, Madd’s been smart and cautious about responding. He’s had us gathering information and getting our ducks in a row, thinking things through strategically and planning how to use what we know.

It’s what makes him a great fucking leader, but sometimes you just need to smash a few skulls in to make a point, and as far as I’m concerned, that time is now.

“Talk,” Maddoc repeats grimly, crossing his arms over his chest.

I know he wants to play this the right way, but long term vision or not, he must be just as ready as I am for a fight.

It’s time to step things up.

I glance over at Logan for some support, because if there’s anyone I can count on to go fucking medieval when our brotherhood is threatened, it’s him. But he doesn’t jump into the conversation the way I’m hoping for. His face is set like stone, eyes fixed on the wall behind me like he’s lost in his thoughts.

“Logan?” I bump his shoulder with mine. “Don’t you think it’s time to cause West Point some pain?”

He blinks, refocusing on my face as soon as I speak. Then he gives me a quick, sharp nod. “Yes. Their increased interference warrants a decisive response.”

O…kay. Not that I’m surprised he agrees with me, even though of course we’re both gonna go with Madd’s call on the timing, but something is definitely up with him. While Logan’s scary-sharp brain has obviously been following the conversation, he hasn’t contributed much. In fact, he hasn’t really said much of anything all morning, leaving it mostly to me and Madd to bounce information back and forth.

Silence isn’t exactly out of character, since Logan tends to bottle shit up, but it kinda has a different flavor to it than usual right now. A sour one that has worry flickering in my chest.

I glance at Maddoc, wondering if he’s noticed the same thing or if he’s too focused on the logistics of this bullshit with West Point to have caught on to Logan’s mood. But Madd’s looking down at his phone, scowling as he taps out a quick response to something one of our lower-level members must’ve sent him.

Maddoc has known Logan longer than I have and knows more of his history, since they’ve been tight since they were kids. There was some heavy shit that went down for Logan back during his childhood that still haunts him. Shit that shaped him, and that I’m pretty sure is the fuel for the cold fury he unleashes on the world sometimes.

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