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Chapter One
Logan
Two Months Later
Grief. Some say there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I say there are more than five stages of grief, but we bypass those stages to suit our needs. I wasn’t in denial about my brother’s death. No, I was right there, helping that slimy fucker slit his own wrists. That doesn’t mean that I’m left unaffected. He was my twin. We wore the same face. Some would even say he was my supposed other half.
Yet, we couldn’t get over our toxic childish tendencies. Under the skewed rays of our mother’s devotion, the tendrils of brotherly love quickly wove themselves into barbed tendrils of hate as we competed for the light. And the longer we grew together, the more apparent it became that we could not flourish together. Like two aggressive plants in a pot, sooner or later, one would have to overtake the other.
I chose me.
Hana probably thought I killed him because of her. Unfortunately, for my grief-stricken wayward wife, it had little to do with her and everything to do with the fact that Luke and I couldn’t exist in the same space. For me to shine, he had to be in the dark. For me to thrive, he had to leave this world. We couldn’t coexist. Hana was just a catalyst.
I sat in the living room of my apartment; the lights turned off, sipping on my dead brother’s favorite whisky. After dealing with the cops, I stole it from his penthouse. I felt lost. Her bulldog, Joseph, barred me from my wife’s bedside. Our friendship fractured beyond comparison. My relationship with my wife was crumbling beneath my fingers, and I wasn’t certain I would be able to hold her to me anymore. I was spiraling out of control.
I don’t know what Hana had told Joseph, but my mind thought of all the dark things I’d done to her. The way I forced her to be mine. I still didn’t feel bad about it. If only I knew how far Luke was willing to go. If only I had known that all my hard work would go down the drain with the blood spilled from my wife’s womb. I can’t help but reflect to when Hana was in the hospital…
She was more stable, so the doctor had said, and awake. They had eased up on the sedative. And she seemed more herself, especially when I walked in for a visit, and Hana threw her cup at me.
I smirked down on her. Her anger did not faze me. In fact, it invigorated me. It told me that she felt something. Something was better than nothing. I could work with hate. What I couldn’t work with was apathy. Hana thought this was all said and done, but it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
“What’s got you so angry, little wifey?” I thought I could get a reaction from her with my grin and swagger, and she didn’t prove me wrong. She was on a warpath. One of which I didn’t think Hana was capable of.
Apparently, my inquiry offended her.
“This is all your fucking fault. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be in here right now. Our baby wouldn’t be—” She clammed up. Her ragged breathing, sweaty brows, and dilated pupils told quite a story.
“I’m not to blame, little Hana.” I tried to hold her hand, but she snatched it away.
“I don’t even want you here! Why won’t you leave?” she cried, her face turning red from her exertion.
“I’m your husband. I have every right to be here.” I shrugged my shoulders. What more of a reason than that did she need? I had to allow her time to feel how she needed to feel.
I sank down into the chair across the room. In a way, she was correct. All this horror could be tied back to me. I stole her away from my brother. Had I not forced bred her, she wouldn’t have had a baby to lose. Had I not met with the board that day, I would have been with Hana, and she would not have been taken.
“I’m sorry. Is that what you want me to say?” I held back a scoff. Remorse for breeding her was the last thing I was feeling at the moment. But if I could, I would resurrect my brother just to kill him all over again. It was too swift. I didn’t get to revel in it. I should had made him suffer more for killing my unborn child. If I’d known…
“I don’t want your apologies. I just want you to leave,” Hana sneered at me weakly. “The sight of you disgusts me.”
“You are my wife. I’m not going anywhere that you aren’t.” No sooner had the words left my mouth a hulking Joseph stormed into the room.
“I heard shouting. Are you alright?” he asked as he walked toward Hana.
“I would be if he would fucking leave me alone.” Hana huffed, folding her arms over her chest before a pained look crossed her face. My woman was hurting.
Joseph glanced briefly at Hana; his eyes shrouded in sorrow at the agony in her eyes. Then he looked around the room and his gaze landed on mine. His eyes narrowed. It was then I knew that he knew. Maybe not all of it, but he knew who was partially at fault for leaving her alone, unprotected, and Joseph was prepared to lay the blame at my feet for the pain Hana was in.
“You,” Joseph’s voice cracked on that one word. “I knew if she were around you two she would get hurt.” He stormed up to me. “It’s time you start respecting her wishes. She doesn’t want you here. Get the fuck out and leave her alone.”
“She’s my wife. I’m not going anywhere, and you can’t force me to go.” Joseph may be Hana’s oldest friend, but when it comes to her health, he had no say. “As her husband, I have the right to be here. Best friends don’t hold weight in the eyes of the law.”
“Not good enough.” He forced his finger in my chest. “Not near a good enough reason to force her to endure your attention.”
I grunted. I didn’t want him to know it hurt, not even a little. I wasn’t a pussy. “I’m not going anywhere.” I stood and breathed into his face. “She will have to accept that I am not the reason our baby is dead.”
His eyes dilated. “You will leave, or I will help you go in a body bag.”
“Jojo—” Before I could say anything else, his fist plowed into my face. I rocked from the force of his hit and landed back in the chair.
