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“Lana Myers is not Kennedy Carlyle.” He looks genuinely confused, and I hand him the same folder. “Lana Myers is Victoria Evans.”
She saved my life. I cast her aside.
I walked out when she simply cried. The cold-hearted killer who tortured and slaughtered the monsters from her past… I made her cry. She never even got angry.
“He doesn’t love me like I love him,” I say hoarsely. “I love him enough to burn the world to the ground in his name.”
She saved your life, Logan. This town tried to kill you, and she saved you. Personally, I think it’s over-the-top to stab a guy for the man you love, but still perfectly effective.”
“Because this place is going to burn. I can promise you that.”
Instead of painting a wall this time, I leave a message. A message for the man who broke my heart. A message for the man I never should have loved.
He’s worried about me surviving. I see a life too empty to be concerned with the notion of survival.
“Times like these remind me why I can’t give up women. Something about a girl with a gun, and right now, you’re every nerd’s comic-book-sexy fantasy girl.”
He should probably look away. Lana isn’t the sweet girl right now.
“Please be you,” he says as though he’s in agony. “I love you,” I say into the earpiece, still firing in the background. “No. Don’t do this to me. Fight, Lana. Get out of there. You can do it. I know you can. I’ve seen what you’re capable of.”
The two of us could have survived that firestorm together. Instead, I let her think my career and morals meant more than she did. I was wrong. Nothing else fucking matters but her.
