Logan’s head jerked up when the door creaked open. He had been pacing the floor, his thoughts tearing at him, the air thick with frustration and doubt. Seeing Freya standing there again—pale-faced, her eyes swollen from crying—caught him off guard.
“Freya?” His voice softened immediately. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer. She just stepped into the room with slow steps, dragging her feet but her hands were trembling slightly. Her hair was still damp from her tears, her face flushed red. Logan took a hesitant step toward her, his eyes scanning her face, searching for an explanation.
“Freya, talk to me,” he said again, quieter this time.
She finally stopped in front of him. For a moment, she couldn’t speak; her throat burned, and her heart hammered painfully. Then, with a shaky breath, s
