The group of men moved deeper into the parking lot.
“Papa,” I couldn’t help but call out.
He barely paused. Barely looked back.
But he did, and I thought what I saw in his expression was mercy.
Thank you, I mouthed.
With a tight nod, he turned and disappeared into the hazy darkness.
In the background I could hear Trent rumble low, “Prick is gonna be back.”
“It would seem that way, Sir,” Milo offered quietly.
“You good, darlin’?” Jud shifted his attention to me.
I gave him a jerky nod, the welling of shock so thick in my throat I wasn’t sure I could speak.
Logan tugged at my hand. “Come with me.”
And the truth was, I would follow him anywhere.
FORTY-ONE
LOGAN
LOS ANGELES, NINETEEN YEARS OLD
Logan triedto conceal his harsh breaths as he approached the office where he was rarely summoned. Dread slithered across his flesh, his stomach in knots and his heart beating out of time.
Aster’s father had to have found out.
Had to know.
And if that were the case, he doubted much he would make it back out of that room.
Gathering his courage, he knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
He inhaled a shaky breath and opened it to the rambling study.
Aster’s father sat behind his enormous desk, coolly casual the way he normally was, like there wasn’t a thing in the world that could touch him.
An immortal king.
Logan gulped and took a single step forward. “Sir, you wanted to see me?”
“Shut the door and sit.” He pointed at a chair across from his desk.
Logan clicked the door shut and tried to keep his knees from knocking as he crossed the room and sat. His muscles ticked as his nerves scattered.
Andres Costa leveled him with his eyes, studying him like he were sifting around in Logan’s mind for his secrets.
Finally, he said, “You have been an asset to this family, Mr. Lawson. When your father suggested I bring you in, I was skeptical, but you’ve proven yourself to be more than worthy.”
“Thank you, Sir.”