The next day…
Jean was buttoning up her coat, her movements stiff and sharp as she paced across the room. Her mind was a storm… of worry for Emma, confusion over the accident, and fury that every time she tried to act, someone tried to stop her.
Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes cold and unreadable. But there was tension in his stance… like a loaded gun waiting to fire.
"I'm going to Morris's estate," Jean announced, grabbing her bag. "Emma tried to contact me when she was in danger, and I'm not sitting here while everyone plays dumb."
Logan's brows furrowed. "No, you're not."
Jean froze, hand tightening around the strap of her bag. She turned to face him slowly. "Excuse me?"
"I said you're not going alone," Logan repeated, his voice like steel. "Whatever happened at that estate… It's not just a coincidence. It's a warning message."
Jean scoffed, walking past him. "You don't get to suddenly start acting like a husband now."
That hit.
