When Logan finished his speech, he exhaled deeply, placing his hand over his heart, looking up with an inscrutable smirk that Yvan couldn't fathom. "I don't want you two back together, not even a bit. You don't deserve my mom—you deserve to spend the rest of your days crying in hell!"
His voice was ice-cold, cruel, each word slicing into Yvan's chest as if it were a knife. Logan suddenly yelled, "Stay back!"
He spotted Ella lurking behind Yvan, her face taut with anxiety. Probably scared her secret would come out, he thought.
Logan sneered at her, his voice a low whisper, "I'm still alive. Not quite what you hoped for, huh? But don't worry, your wish will come true soon enough."
Yvan paled at his words. "Logan, what's wrong with you? What's with all those words?"
"Boring," Logan scoffed, his lips curling into a satisfied grin as he saw Yvan's panicked face. Turning to Ella, he said, "Thanks for your hatred, and for staging my little 'adventure.' Without you, I wouldn't have known how to get back at Mr. Boyd. You've shown me the way."
Taking a few steps back, he stood at the edge of the vast ocean, his small frame appearing to teeter precariously in the eyes of the onlookers.
The cops, suspecting Logan's erratic behavior stemmed from the trauma of a kidnapping, were planning to bring in a shrink for some on-the-spot counseling.
His wounds were deep, still bleeding, but Logan didn't bother to cover them. How tough he was... and how ruthless?
"Mr. Boyd," Logan said, turning to face the sea, "this little escapade has shown me that my own body is the best weapon to threaten you with." He spread his arms wide, defiant against the crowd, like the bravest warrior between heaven and earth.
“If I die, will my mom hate you to the bone from now on?"
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