CHAPTER 003
973 Words
EMMA’S POINT OF VIEW
The moment Logan stepped into the room, everything changed. The air grew thick, heavy with something I couldn’t name. My heart raced like it was trying to break free from my chest, but I kept telling myself to stay calm, to stay in control. I paced across the sleek floor, every step echoing in the silence, trying to piece together the puzzle he was barely starting to show me.
“I’m not trying to control you,” Logan said, his voice low and tense. “I’m trying to protect you.”
Protect me? That word echoed through my head, twisting into something I didn’t want to admit. Protect me from what? From whom? My mind swirled with questions I couldn’t yet say out loud.
“You don’t understand,” he added, frustration cutting through the calm tone. “There’s more to this than you know.”
I stopped, turning to face him, searching his eyes for some truth. But all I found was a storm I couldn’t read.
“What are you talking about?” I whispered, the vulnerability creeping into my voice surprising even me.
He took a step closer, and suddenly the space between us felt electric, charged with something dangerous and forbidden.
“That girl... the one who doesn’t remember her past... she’s more dangerous than you think.”
Dangerous. That word hit harder than I expected.
I wanted to run, but I was glued to the spot.
“Who?” I asked, my voice barely above a breath.
Logan didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed my hand, the heat of his skin burning through the fabric of my sleeve. His touch was fierce, possessive, and somehow comforting all at once.
“Come with me,” he said, leading me toward a door I’d never noticed before.
The elevator ride up was silent except for the quiet hum of the motor. My mind raced. What could he be hiding? Was he really the man he said he was? Or was I just falling deeper into something I didn’t understand?
When the door opened, my breath caught.
Inside was a small room, dimly lit. Hundreds of photos, each depicting me, adorned the walls.
The photos depicted me laughing in a café. One of the photos showed me crossing a street. Me sleeping. Someone had been watching me for a long time.
“Why?” I whispered, feeling exposed and vulnerable, as if someone was tearing open a secret inside me.
Logan’s face darkened as he walked over to a desk and pulled a thick file toward me.
“You’re not safe,” he said quietly. “Not from them.”
“Who?” I asked, swallowing hard as a cold chill ran down my spine.
“The people who want you silent,” he said. “The ones who don’t want the truth to come out.”
My head spun. I wanted to scream and run, but my legs felt weak.
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out, heart pounding.
A message from an unknown number: She knows too much. Stop her.
I looked up at Logan, panic twisting my insides.
“Who sent that?” he demanded, voice sharp.
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking.
“Then we have to get out of here.”
His hand found mine again, squeezing tightly. The urgency in his grip sent a thrill through me — part fear, part something darker.
We hurried out into the night. The city’s lights blurred past the windows, but all I could think about was the danger closing in around me.
Every shadow seemed alive, every sound a warning.
“Why me?” I finally asked, voice cracking.
Logan didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled me close when we reached the street.
“You’re mine,” he whispered into my ear. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
His breath was hot, and I felt it move against my skin like fire.
I wanted to pull away. To scream. To run.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I let myself fall against him, the ache between us burning hotter and hotter.
His lips brushed against my neck, soft but demanding.
“Emma,” he breathed, and the name sounded like a promise — or a threat.
My thoughts tumbled into chaos.
Is this love? Obsession? Something darker?
I couldn’t tell anymore.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” I asked, eyes locked on his.
He smiled, a dangerous, wicked curve of his lips.
“Do you?”
I bit back a laugh.
“Maybe I’m as dangerous as you say.”
He leaned in, whispering, “Good.”
His hand slid down to my waist, pulling me closer.
The heat between us was like a living entity, impossible to ignore or resist.
Back in the penthouse, I found myself replaying everything Logan said.
The girl who doesn’t remember.
Who was she?
Was it me?
Could I really be someone with a past so dark it needed hiding?
My thoughts raced, circling faster and faster.
Why can’t I remember?
Who wants me gone?
And why am I drawn to him — the man who says he’s protecting me, but who keeps secrets?
Logan’s voice broke through my spiral.
“We need to be careful. They’re watching. Waiting.”
I looked up, meeting his intense gaze.
“What if I’m too dangerous for you?”
He smirked, brushing a stray hair from my face.
“I don’t care.”
The words felt like a challenge — or a confession.
Later, alone in my room, I stared at my reflection.
Who was I?
The stranger in the photos?
The girl who didn’t remember?
Or the woman falling helplessly into Logan’s dark world?
The line between fear and desire was blurring.
- Writer
