Logan Fell Novels & Stories

My guess is, he spent many days playing with Steven here. To the left of the television was a shelf with books of all kind and a football in blue and red. To the other side of the room, towards the middle, he had a shelf full of trophies and awards, and my favorite, an easel with a cup full of brushes and paint tubes. Though there was clothes scattered here and there, his room smelled clean and fragrant, it smelled just like him. Ok fine, I admit it. He always smelled good. And thanks to Troy, who knows about colognes and all, I knew that Logan wore Aqua Di Gio, by Giorgio Armani. His room smelled just like it.

I drag myself up and swing it open. And there he is. Same damn face. Same damn eyes. But different. “Oh… you meant now? I’m not sure… I mean, it’s a little messy in here.” “I was in the neighborhood.” Logan’s suit is a little looser than Lance’s ever was, like he cares more about comfort than sharp tailoring. His hair is neat but not styled to perfection. And his smile—it’s... softer. Less cocky. “Really?” I know he’s bullshitting me.

I managed to relax, never taking my eyes off Miatta. “Logan! Start talking. I am not in the mood for this sort of nonsense!” Father barked, barely sparing the slaves a second glance. Logan stepped forward, bowed again and stood before his Alpha. His dark hair was his greatest pride and he tied it back away from his face, allowing the locks to fall at his back. A jagged scar above his eyes was revealed as a result, marring his roguish handsome face.

"One tip for you, don't get distracted." I sighed, and said, “Shoot me, then.” “Oh, where do you want me to shoot you, my love?” He teased me. Luca pulled out his gun and yelled, "Enough!" then glanced at Logan, "Logan, you've already gotten even. Get out of here, cabrón!" Logan emptied the revolver in front of me and placed it in my hand, saying, "Oh, you got a very bad teacher. Give me a ring if you want some lessons." With a smile on his face, he winked at me and left the Villa.

Earlier he was irritated because of his complaint. “I'm not always angry. I just had enough with the two of you. You're causing trouble anywhere you want to and I always fix it." "Relax, Trace. Apollo won't run," said Logan. He took a cigarette and smoked, not minding other Founders were there. Logan is the youngest of the Founders. He blew out the cigarette smoke and he walked over to Apollo. "Then do it fast, Logan!" Lev shouted. He also lost his patience.

he teased. “I didn’t even know Leonard had a younger brother,” I admitted. “No one mentioned you. It’s like you were... erased.” His smile faltered. “He told them not to say my name in this house,” Logan said. His tone was light, but there was pain tucked beneath it, like dust under an untouched rug. “What?” I said, shocked. “Why?” He looked out into the open sky, a smile pulling on the edge of his mouth, though his eyes were distant. “The name Logan Morano was banned. But I’m back now.”

I thought you didn't care about her but see how worked up you are, I said in my head. " This is gold!" Landon exclaimed from beside me, I rolled my eyes at the idiot. He grinned from ear to ear while also watching Phoenix ignore the world. " Last time I checked you said you didn't care about her but look at you worrying about someone else, this is classic entertainment. Who would have thought!" he said. Phoenix stopped pacing and glared at him, " that's not what I'm worried about" he snapped. Landon raised his eyebrows and asked," then what are you pacing around for?" Phoenix sighed, " how was it possible for the rogue to enter and leave without being caught?" He asked.

He should have at least had a tracker on her,to know where she was, but now he hasn't a single idea or thought as to where this was made or who she was. “Just some more, and I'll head on to sleep.'' Logan pleaded while he staggered towards the bar, trying to reach for the bottle. His eyesight became blurry as he ended up hitting the bottle with the back of his palms. With a loud crash, throttle the bottle fell, and a satisfying sound was made “Oh no. No. No no, I need this back. I'm not done drinking; I can't just let it go; I want to have it back.” Logan retired, bursting into tears as he bet on his knee, the shards of glass piercing through his skin.

It was nothing more than an improbable coincidence. The day my flight landed abroad, I used a press credential Conrad had secured for me to slip backstage. The afterparty was already in full swing. A Falorian director, riding a wave of high spirits, called out to Logan, "Care to make a bet?" The music was deafening. Logan leaned down, cupping his ear, and asked, "On what?" The director replied in Falorian. "You're on," Logan said. But he lost the bet. As his penalty, his circle of friends crowded around him, taking turns flicking his forehead.

Greta growled while smacking her hand on the table. “ My bad, I think I took the joke too far,” Logan picked up a bowl and then took the popcorn that was done popping in the microwave and then poured them out in the bowl that he was holding and then turned to look at his grandmother. “ I hope you will not get upset because of a simple joke, Greta.”