Elizabeth
I didn't notice any of the bikers approach or hear the rumble of their bikes, so seeing Logan and his brothers takes me by surprise.
I could refuse his help. God knows I want to, but there are shards of glass everywhere. I can't even touch the floor for balance.
Hesitantly, I give him my hand and he holds it tight, pulling me up.
“Are you okay?” He asks, and I nod, squeezing my hand out of his hold.
“God, you're bleeding,” he says, looking at my forearm. It's as if him mentioning that somehow activates the pain, and I wince as I look at the deep cut.
“It's nothing,” I say, still fighting to free my hand. “I need to report this incident to my boss.”
“I'll handle that,” he says. “You need to get that cut checked.”
“I said I'm fine,” I say, my voice sharp. “Will you please
