“What about me?” Pete whined as he tugged on his girlfriend’s blouse. “I’m injured too.”
“But not pregnant,” Henrietta chuckled. She ruffled the remains of Pete’s hair and planted a chaste kiss on his bruised forehead. Logan’s face creased in mirth at the impression of rosebud lips left in the centre of the swollen skin. It looked like someone tried eating Pete’s face.
“I want to leave,” Pete complained, drawing his face into a toddler-worthy pout. “I’ve not had a good time of it.”
Logan offered a tight-lipped smile and casual wave as Henrietta led Pete away by the hand. “Watch your back,” Logan hissed after him. The remaining colour drained from Pete’s face as he sped up and disappeared.
“Leave him alone,” Hana sighed. “It’s not his fault.”
Logan raised his eyebrows. “If a bro’ asked
