LOGINI woke up before my alarm, my eyes snapping open as if my body already knew how important today was. Christmas Eve.
For a moment, I just lay there staring at the ceiling, a smile slowly spreading across my face. My chest felt warm, buzzing with excitement that refused to let me rest any longer. Today mattered. Everything about today mattered. I rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over my own feet as I hurried to get dressed. I threw on a sweater, wrapped a scarf around my neck, and grabbed my bag, already mentally running through a checklist. Presents. I still needed a few last-minute Christmas presents—one for Mom, one for Aurora, and one for Kade. I wanted them to be perfect. Not expensive, not flashy, just… thoughtful. Something that said I know you. The city was quiet as I made my way toward the shopping mall, the early morning air crisp and refreshing. The streets were still half-asleep, dusted with leftover snow that crunched softly beneath my boots. Christmas lights lined the sidewalks, glowing gently like they were still waking up too. Everything felt peaceful. As I passed The Half Moon Night Café, my steps slowed without me meaning to. That was odd. They were usually open by now. I hadn’t planned on sitting down—I didn’t have time—but I’d thought I could grab a caramel latte to go. It had become something of a routine lately, a small comfort I didn’t even realize I relied on. The sign still read Closed. I frowned slightly and checked my watch. Maybe they were opening late today. Curious, I leaned closer to the window and peeked inside. Asher was there, behind the counter, but something about him was… different. He wasn’t moving with his usual calm rhythm. His posture was tense, his expression sharp and serious in a way I’d never seen before. He wasn’t alone. A few other men stood with him, their faces mostly hidden by the counter and the tall coffee machines. I could only see parts of them—dark coats, broad shoulders—but I could tell they were standing close, talking quietly, hushed and urgent tones. Asher looked different. Serious. Focused. Not tense exactly, but sharper than usual, like his attention was completely locked onto whatever they were discussing. He said something I couldn’t hear, and one of the men nodded. Huh. I shrugged it off almost immediately. Everyone had serious mornings sometimes, especially this close to Christmas. I checked the time again—definitely didn’t have time to wait—and stepped back onto the sidewalk. No coffee today. Shopping first. ⸻ The mall was already alive by the time I arrived. Christmas music played softly overhead, people weaving through the corridors with armfuls of bags and excited expressions. The air smelled like sugar, cinnamon, and something warm and buttery I couldn’t quite place. I started with Mom. I took my time, wandering through a few stores before finding something that felt just right. Something warm, practical, but still special. I smiled as I imagined her reaction, already picturing her trying to insist she didn’t need anything while clearly loving it. Next was Aurora. That was easier. I found something fun, something that immediately made me think of her laugh, her energy. I could already hear her teasing me about it, and it made me grin. Feeling accomplished, I wandered a little more, enjoying the atmosphere. That’s when I saw it. The dress. It hung near the front of a boutique, catching the light in a way that made me stop in my tracks. It was prettier than the one I’d picked out yesterday—more elegant, softer, like it had been waiting for me to find it. I stepped inside, lifted it from the rack, and held it up. My reflection stared back at me, and something clicked. It would go perfectly with the necklace Kade gave me last Christmas. I smiled at the thought of it—the way he’d clasped it around my neck, the way he’d told me it suited me perfectly. I could already imagine how the necklace would rest against my collarbone, how the dress would frame it just right. I didn’t hesitate. I bought it. As the cashier folded the dress carefully into its bag, my excitement bubbled over. Tonight was going to be special. Kade was taking me to the new fine dining restaurant in town—the one I’d been talking about for months, the one I’d practically begged to try. He remembered. By the time I finished shopping, my arms were full of bags and my heart felt even fuller. But my wallet painfully thin and light. It was worth it. Everything was falling into place. ⸻ Back home, I set the bags down and checked my phone. Messages from Kade lit up the screen—teasing, affectionate, playful. The Kade I knew. The Kade I loved. I laughed softly to myself as I replied, my fingers flying across the screen. As I’m texting Kade, I also get a notification from Aurora. Something about she’s bringing some of her home-made food. I smiled and gave her a quick reply. The afternoon passed in a blur of anticipation. I tried to distract myself, but I kept glancing at the clock, counting down the hours. When it was finally time to get ready, I took my time. I slipped into the new dress, smoothing the fabric, admiring how it fit. Then I reached for the necklace and fastened it around my neck. Perfect. When Kade picked me up, his smile widened the moment he saw me. “Wow,” he said. “You look incredible.” I laughed, warmth blooming in my chest. “You really think so?” “I know so,” he replied easily, opening the car door for me. The restaurant was stunning. Soft lighting, polished wood, tasteful Christmas decorations that made everything feel intimate and festive without being overwhelming. It felt unreal to finally be there, sitting across from him, holding the menu I’d seen pictures of so many times. We ordered the Christmas special, and Kade insisted on wine, smiling when I hesitated. He was attentive, charming, relaxed. Everything felt… normal. Good. Happy. After a while, I excused myself. “I’ll be right back. Bathroom.” “Take your time. I’ll be here,” he said, smiling at me. The hallway was quieter than the dining area, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses fading behind me. I washed my hands, checked my reflection, adjusted my necklace, and smiled to myself. See? I thought. Everything is fine. You were worried for nothing. I thought to myself. I stepped back into the hallway to make my way back to Kade. Suddenly a hand covered my mouth. An arm wrapped tightly around my waist. Panic exploded through me all at once, my heart slamming violently against my ribs as I was pulled backward. My thoughts scattered, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. Voices murmured—low, unfamiliar. The world tilted, blurred, slipped out of focus. The last thing I saw was the warm glow of the dining room at the end of the hallway. And then nothing. This was the day everything changed.I don’t hear most of what the doctor is saying. Her mouth moves. Words come out. They sound calm, practiced, reassuring—things people say when they want you to believe everything is under control. But none of it sticks. It all slides past me like water over stone. My focus keeps drifting back to the feeling in my throat. The tightness is gone now, replaced by a dull soreness and the faint sting of antiseptic. Gauze brushes my skin every time I swallow. My hands rest on my knees, fingers curled too tightly, nails pressing into my palms hard enough that it should hurt. It doesn’t. That alone should scare me. My thoughts spiral, looping back on themselves no matter how hard I try to slow them down.
The forest edge trembles in the quiet night. Something isn’t right. My instincts flare before my eyes catch it—movement, too deliberate to be deer, too coordinated to be random. “Lucien,” I say sharply, my voice controlled but taut. “Stay with her. Don’t let her out of your sight. Guard her with everything you’ve got.” He inclines his head, silent acknowledgment, before moving to position a few guards around the house. I watch him, grateful and frustrated all at once. I can’t risk her being vulnerable—not again. Not now. The attackers are faster than I anticipated, and already I notice something odd. Their approach isn’t typical. They move like wolves, yes, but there’s a cold calculation, a deliberate cruelty in their strikes that doesn’t match the usual patterns
Asher is still speaking when it happens. He’s standing near the window, shoulders squared, posture calm in that infuriatingly composed way of his, as if the weight of the world doesn’t sit on him any heavier than a tailored coat. His voice is steady, measured—careful. “There’s something else you need to know,” he says. “Something important. I need you to stay calm when I—” The sound cuts through the room like a blade. It’s not a crash exactly. Not thunder. Not even something I can immediately place. It’s deeper than that—a low, violent boom that vibrates through the walls and into my bones. The floor trembles beneath my feet. The lights flicker once. Then again. Lucien straightens instantly, his entire demeanor shifting in a heartbeat. Gone is the relaxed authority. In its place is something sharp, alert, dangerous. Asher turns toward the window, eyes narrowing. Another sound follows—this one unmistakable. A distant roar. Not human. Not animal. So
The house grows quieter as evening settles in. It isn’t the kind of silence that comes with emptiness—there are people here, moving somewhere beyond the walls—but it’s restrained, deliberate. Like the house itself knows when to hold its breath. I sit on the edge of the bed Mariel prepared for me, my hands folded loosely in my lap, staring at the faint reflection of myself in the window. I look the same. And yet… I don’t feel like I belong in my own skin anymore. The quiet presses in, wrapping itself around my thoughts until I can’t tell whether it’s meant to soothe me or keep me contained. I sit on the edge of the bed Mariel showed me earlier, hands resting on my knees, staring at the window where the trees sway gently in the fading light. Too gentle. Everything here feels… controlled. Safe, they say. Protected. But the more I replay the last few days, the more something begins to itch beneath my skin—an unease I can’t shake no matter how man
The car ride back is quiet. I sit pressed into the seat, hands clasped together in my lap, trying to calm my still-racing heart. Outside, the scenery blurs, but I notice every detail—the way sunlight filters through trees, the faint hum of the wind. It all feels sharper than it ever has. Asher sits beside the driver, his posture calm, composed, while Lucien drives. He doesn’t speak unless necessary, and when he does, it’s brief, measured. I glance at him through the rearview mirror. He’s always aware, always watching. I realize, somewhere deep down, that for the first time since the kidnapping, I feel… safe. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding when the car finally stops. The building before me is large, secluded, and surrounded by thick trees that block the view of the road. A different house from the one I was staying. I get a sense of deliberate isolation, a place mea
The sun is higher than I’m used to seeing it. Its warmth falls across the driveway, and I can feel it in my chest, a sensation that makes me both nervous and exhilarated. Lucien stands nearby, calm as ever, watching me adjust the strap of my jacket. “I don’t need you to walk me through this,” I say. “I’ve been cooped up long enough. I can manage.” He raises an eyebrow, faint amusement in his gaze. “I just want to make sure you’re steady. That’s all.” “I’ll be fine,” I insist, stepping toward the car. “You can… wait outside if you want.” Lucien’s expression flickers just slightly, something unreadable, before he nods. “As you wish,” he says, retreating a few steps to let me take the lead. The air hits me differently than it did inside. It’s sharper, fresher, fi







