Rachel stared at him, her eyes blown wide, breath trapped somewhere between her chest and throat.
For a suspended heartbeat, everything froze—the dim room, the ragged sounds of struggle, even the ache still trembling through her limbs.
The air felt thick, heavy, as though it pressed against her skin and refused to let her breathe. Her ears rang, her pulse roaring so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
Then a voice sliced through the chaos.
"Logan, stop!"
The command snapped her back into motion. Her head turned sharply toward the sound, muscles tight, neck stiff with fear. What stunned her wasn't the urgency in the voice—it was the man who spoke.
He looked exactly like him.
The same height. The same broad shoulders. The same sharp jawline that could cut through shadows.
Even the eyes were the same familiar shape, dark and intense—yet where one burned with uncontrollable fury, the other held restraint, calculation, a forced calm straining at the edges.
