Logan's POV
The air in the War Room is colder than usual, heavy with tension and despair.
Maybe I'm just being dramatic; maybe it's just me. Maybe the chill of dread clinging to my spine or the ache in my jaw is from the sleepless night I spent pacing the backyard. Rowan is still unconscious. The medics have been keeping him on a steady stream of sedatives while his body flushed out whatever silver's left in his system. He's resting but my pain keeps me awake.
I won't say 'I shouldn't have caught a kid falling off a roof.' That would be foolish. I'm glad I did what I did but I hate that it had to come with excruciating pain. The pain meds aren't really helping and now I have to face the consequences of my actions.
I caused that riot. I'm the one who wanted Rowan to give some dumb speech. It was all useless in the end and now I'm in the War room.
