Chapter 190: Nadine

Nadine

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I press myself against the wall, trying to create as much distance between us.

My hands shake, my mind races and the room suddenly feel too suffocating.

Logan.

He’s here. He’s right in front of me.

My heart clenches painfully as memories rush back to my mind.

The gunshot. Daniel’s blood. Logan standing there, calm and unbothered.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to silence the ringing in my ears, trying to make sense of everything.

Did Logan shoot Daniel?

I don’t know. I didn’t see it. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because he was there, standing in the middle of all that chaos like he belonged to it.

I open my eyes again, and he’s still watching me.

He hasn’t moved.

His gaze is unreadable, but I can see the concern on his face, but this time, I don't give a fucking damn. Like he wants to reach out to me.

Like he wants to say something.

But I don’t want to hear it.

"Stay away from me," I whisper, my voice cracking slightly with overwhelming emotions.

He flinches slightly, but enough for me to notice.

"Nadine—"

"Don’t." My voice is stronger now, but my body still trembles. "Don’t say my name like that. Like you—" I shake my head furiously. "Like you still have the right to."

His jaw tightens. "I—"

"You let me believe you came for me." I laugh bitterly, feeling the sting of betrayal like a blade to my chest.

"But you didn’t, did you? You came for your reasons. You came for revenge, or for whatever the hell that was. And I was just in the middle of it."

Logan takes a step forward, and I instinctively press myself harder against the wall.

"Stop." My voice cracks, and I hate that it does. "Just stop."

I don’t know if it’s fear or heartbreak making my body tremble like this. Maybe both.

But what I do know is that the man standing in front of me is not the man I thought I knew.

Logan stopped moving, but his eyes didn't leave mine.

His hands clench at his sides like he’s holding himself back like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

I can feel his stare pressing down on me, asking me to understand, forgive, and maybe even trust. But I have none of those to give.

Not anymore.

"You don’t understand," he finally says, with a low control voice.

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, I don’t? Then explain it to me, Logan. Explain why I was dragged into this mess. Explain why I had to watch Daniel die in front of me. Explain why you looked at me like I was nothing more than a stranger when you stood there with that gun in your hand!"

His face hardens, and for a moment, I see Logan again from that night. Cold. Ruthless. The man I didn’t recognize anymore.

"He wasn’t innocent, Nadine." His voice is steady, but there’s something dark underneath it. "Daniel made his choices. He took you, he used you, and he would’ve killed you if it suited him."

"That doesn’t mean he deserved to die like that!" I snap, my chest tightening. "You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies, Logan!"

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "No, but I do what I have to. And I will never apologize for protecting you."

I shake my head, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes. "Protecting me? Is that what you call it? Keeping secrets? Playing games? Bringing me back here like I’m some kind of possession?"

Logan steps closer, just enough for me to feel the heat radiating off him. His voice is rough and low.

"I didn’t bring you back because I think you belong to me, Nadine. I brought you back because you belong here. With Shawn.

With your family. This is your home."

My breath catches.

Shawn.

For the past month, I’ve survived by convincing myself I would get back to him.

That no matter what, I would find a way home. And now I am home… but it doesn’t feel like it.

Because Logan is here. Because nothing is the same anymore.

"Shawn," I whisper, my body going numb at the thought of my son. "Where is he?"

Logan watches me for a second before answering. "He’s sleeping. I didn’t want him to see you like this."

I press my hand to my forehead, trying to steady myself. I need to see my son. I need to feel his tiny arms wrap around me and remind myself that something good still exists in my world.

"I want to see him," I say firmly, looking Logan straight in the eye. "Right now."

Logan hesitates like he wants to argue, but then he just nods. "Alright."

He turned to lead the way, but I didn’t move.

I take a deep breath, gather every broken piece of myself, and force my legs to move.

Each step toward Shawn’s room feels heavier than the last. My heart pounds so loudly that I can barely hear anything else.

The hallway is dim, the house eerily quiet except for the soft sound of my breathing. Logan walks ahead of me, with a tense posture and a low stride, almost like he’s giving me time to change my mind.

But I need to see my son.

When we reach the door, Logan pauses. He looks back at me, searching my face for something.

Maybe he thinks I’m too shaken up, too fragile to handle this right now. Maybe he’s right. But I refuse to break.

He pushes the door open.

The room is dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of a nightlight in the corner. And there, on the small bed, is my entire world.

Shawn.

His tiny chest rises and falls with each peaceful breath, his little fingers curled around his blanket.

His hair is a mess of dark curls, his lips slightly parted. He looks so innocent, unaware of the nightmare I’ve just lived through.

A choked sob rises in my throat as I step inside, my legs suddenly weak. I cover my mouth to muffle the sound, but the pain is overwhelming.

I lost a month with him. A whole month.

How many times did he cry for me? Did he think I abandoned him? Did he stop asking where I was?

The thought shatters something inside me.

I move toward the bed, my hands trembling as I reach out to touch him. My fingers brush his soft hair, and my knees give out.

I sink to the floor beside his bed, gripping the edge of the mattress like it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

Shawn stirs.

For a moment, my breath catches. His lashes flutter, and then—those eyes.

Those big, innocent eyes blink up at me, still heavy with sleep. He frowns slightly, confusion flashing across his tiny face.

"Mommy?" The sound of his voice breaks me. I let out a shaky sob, nodding rapidly. "Yes, baby. It’s me. I’m here."

His little body shoots up, his arms wrapping around my neck so tightly it nearly knocks the air out of me.

He’s warm, solid, real. I bury my face into his hair, holding onto him as if he might disappear if I let go.

"I missed you," he mumbles against my shoulder. "I looked for you, Mommy."

Tears stream down my face as I rock him gently. "I know, baby. I know. I’m so sorry. But I’m here now. I promise."

I felt Logan’s presence behind me, but I didn’t turn. Right now, nothing else exists except the little boy in my arms.

For the first time since this nightmare began, I finally feel like I can breathe again.

But one thing I'm sure of is that I won't back down from my plan.