Page 29 of His to Take

Luckily, he didn't need to. After a few minutes, Logan stood up and made his way out away from the crowded lakefront. Dylan followed, slipping through the crowd like a ghost, acting like he was supposed to be there.

Logan's languid stride carried him away from the busy deck area, his steps unhurried as if he hadn't a care in the world. Dylan's heart pounded with adrenaline, and he couldn't help but marvel at how his quarry remained blissfully unaware of the danger that stalked him.

And then Logan reached his goal: a boathouse far from the rest of the hotel visitors. He pulled a joint out of his pocket.

Perfect, Dylan thought, his eyes narrowing.You want somewhere nice and quiet to light up, and I want somewhere nice and quiet to snuff you out.

The boat shed was a dark, boring maintenance space — at this time of night, no one would interrupt him. Dylan's pulse thrummed in his ears as he slipped through the shadows toward it, the thrum of his heart drowning out everything but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the faint whisper of Logan's footsteps ahead of him.

He gripped Ajax's gun tightly as he approached the boathouse. The cold metal pressed against his palm, heavy, a constant reminder of the deadly power it held.

Just a little longer...

Logan opened the door to the boathouse and stepped inside. Dylan seized his chance.

He stepped inside, gun raised—

A blinding pain erupted in his throat, something heavy slamming against his back. Dylan thrashed, desperate.

Pinning him against the wall, one hand around his throat, Logan grinned down at him.

He wrenched the gun from Dylan's hand frighteningly easily. "There you are! I've been looking for you for days." Logan sneered, his cold blue eyes glinting with malicious delight. "No-one hurts me and gets away with it."

Dylan tried to kick him. Logan shook him, grabbing his throat harder. "Did you really think I wouldn't be ready for you? Or did you honestly believe you could take me down all by yourself?"

Dylan struggled against Logan's iron grip, the humiliation and frustration gnawing at him like a ravenous beast. "You… you're going to pay for what you did to Kai!" he managed to force out, the raw pain in his voice betraying his bravado.

"Who?" The grip around his throat twitched. "Oh, right," Logan drawled, smiling. "Your dead friend. He was nice, wasn't he? Very trusting. Don't worry, I made sure he had a nice time before his sudden trip."

"Go to hell!" Dylan snarled, his eyes blazing with unbridled fury.

But as much as he fought, he couldn't deny the sinking feeling in his gut that told him he might just have bitten off more than he could chew.

With a smug grin, Logan grabbed one of the ropes from a nearby shelf. He forced Dylan to the ground and bound Dylan's wrists in front of him, and then his feet. Dylan struggled, kicking out, but it was no use. His heart pounded in his chest as he tugged at his restraints, desperately trying to free himself. His eyes darted around, searching in vain for a means of escape.

"Pathetic," Logan scoffed as he stood up and took a step back, admiring his handiwork. "You're hardly worth the effort." He bent down to pick up Ajax's gun, running his fingers along the sleek metal. "But I gotta thank you for bringing me a new toy. This looks like a good time."

"Fuck you," Dylan spat, the fire in his voice barely concealing the fear that threatened to overtake him. He swiped at Logan with his tied-together fists, but his hobbled feet kept him useless. "You won't get away with this."

"What do you mean?" Logan looked genuinely amused. "Of course I will." He approached Dylan, his polished leather shoes echoing ominously against the concrete floor. He tapped the side of his head, where Dylan had hit him. "But first, I gotta pay you back for this."

Without warning, Logan delivered a vicious kick to Dylan's side, the force of the blow sending waves of pain coursing through his body. Dylan gritted his teeth, refusing to give Logan the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

"I still remember the look on your friend's face when he realized he couldn't escape," Logan taunted, leaning in close so that Dylan could feel his hot breath against his cheek. "It was so funny.Nooo, pleeease, why are you doing thiiis…"

A sickening rage roiled within Dylan, threatening to overwhelm him. But there was nothing he could do — Logan held all the power.

"Once I was done with him," Logan continued, his voice dripping with sadistic glee, "he had a little accident at the balcony. So clumsy! It was one hell of a swan dive."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Dylan shouted, his voice cracking.

But even as he spoke, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered a terrible truth: there would be no rescue, no last-minute reprieve. He was utterly alone.

And Logan knew it.

"Y'know, I'm still pissed you escaped from me before," Logan sneered, circling Dylan like a predator eyeing its prey. "But now I get to correct that little mistake."

He crouched down and poked Dylan in the cheek with the barrel of the gun, annoyed. "Daddy dearest gave me an earful about leaving evidence behind. Blah blah blah, his precious little campaign, blah blah blah, witnesses. Whatever. It costs a lot to get a mafia cleanup package, apparently. Those smug assholes charge a mint."

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