Bound By Thorns (Squad Six #2)

SIXTEEN

Logan

I was frozen, just staring at her as she stood there in the doorway. At first, I thought I might be dreaming, that the nightmare was about to twist into something dark, but the look on her face stopped those thoughts. She looked scared, almost terrified, as if she was bracing for me to strike. The guilt that I had instilled that fear in her settled heavily on my shoulders.

The room was so thick with tension I half-expected her to turn and leave, but she didn’t. Instead, her eyes flickered down to my lips for a fleeting moment, sending a jolt through me. Memories of that brief, confused kiss we’d shared flashed through my mind, and I desperately tried to grasp the fleeting emotions of that moment, but they slipped through like sand.

Breaking the heavy silence, I managed to croak out, “How long was I out?”

“Almost thirty-seven hours,” she replied, her voice steady but her body language hesitant.

I blinked. Enough time for her to have gone to Boston and back. Relief washed over me knowing she was unharmed and standing here in front of me.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked unexpectedly.

“Yeah, it was… needed,” I admitted, feeling a bit more grounded.

She just nodded, and in a moment of thoughtless honesty, I blurted out something I instantly regretted, “Better than sleeping on the cold stone floor. Bet you didn’t have to worry about that.”

The pain that flickered across her face was immediate and sharp, like I’d physically struck her. I cursed myself internally; here she was, having just lost her parents, and I was adding to her burden with my careless words. I was hurting a hurt woman.

“Kaylan—” I started, wanting to take back my words, to make things right somehow.

But she cut me off with a sad smile, her eyes not meeting mine, “It’s okay. I am your tormentor. I am the whore of Ravenrock. I know who I am. What part I played.”

Then she turned and left, leaving the room and me in a heavy silence. The door clicked softly behind her, and I was left sitting there, reeling with guilt. Out of all the things I could have said, ‘sorry’ should have been the easiest and yet, it never came.

She called herself a whore because not too long ago, I had hurled the word at her. She had willingly accepted the mantle of my tormentor, yet I knew she had only ever saved me. Why did I keep doing this?

Whore .

The word gnawed at me. I felt a fit of rage whenever I recalled why she was called that. She wasn’t a whore. She was Garret’s whore. The fact that Garret had her, touched her, fucked her, made my blood boil to a crisp.

At that moment, a realization dawned on me. I wasn’t enraged because I thought she was my tormentor. I was enraged because I was simply… jealous. And due to sheer stupidity and misguided rage, I had almost ended her life. Not that my squad would’ve let that happen.

Fucking hell, Logan!

I flung off my duvet in a huff, stormed out of bed, and marched to the bathroom—my head spinning slightly. A shower seemed like the only thing that might calm my frayed nerves.

Twenty minutes later, I entered the lounge, fresh but still seething internally. She wasn’t there, and it looked like everyone had finished their dinner. My stomach growled in protest; I was famished.

I sat down quietly beside my squadmates.

“Look who’s finally up,” Kabir teased with a chuckle.

I shot him a glare as I loaded my plate with baked potatoes and chicken, topping it off with a generous helping of salad. I devoured my meal like I hadn’t eaten in days—which wasn’t far from the truth—and shoveled food into my mouth without pause.

Zarek watched me for a moment, a hint of amusement on his face. “When did you get up?” he asked.

“Just half an hour ago,” I mumbled through a mouthful.

“Kaylan’s back, you know,” Leora said, giving me a knowing smile.

I nodded, not missing a beat. “Yeah, I saw her when I woke up.”

That caught everyone’s attention. Eyebrows lifted in unison around the table.

“Did you apologize?” Sebastian asked, his face stern.

I choked my food down in a hard gulp. “Not yet.”

My response was curt, uninviting. I did, however, see Zane’s expression shift from concern to agitation. He shook his head and focused on his plate.

Changing the topic, Leora continued, “I talked to Dr. Mendoza. She’s great, Lo. You’ll like her.”

I forced a smile, not wanting to dampen her enthusiasm, “Thanks, Leo. I’ll start my sessions soon.”

Zarek cleared his throat, “Actually, that starts tomorrow. I insisted on it.”

I bristled slightly. “Recovery from torture doesn’t follow a schedule.”

The room fell quiet.

I sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I won’t be myself for a while. Please, just give me some time.”

“We are giving you time, Lo. Both of you,” Leora reassured me, gently reminding me that I wasn’t alone in my recovery.

The mention of ‘both’ nudged my thoughts toward Kaylan. She was increasingly occupying my mind, becoming a constant presence in my thoughts.

“Now,” Leora brightened considerably, “have you seen my ring?”

She playfully waved her hand in front of my face, flaunting the ring Zarek had given her. I smiled genuinely, feeling a momentary lift in spirits.

“I have,” I forced a grin, “I helped Zarek pick it out and kept it hidden for weeks.”

“Weeks?” Leora turned to Zarek, feigning outrage, and I chuckled, watching them bask in their happiness.

As they chatted, a part of me envied their lightness. Would anyone ever look past my scars and see me—not just the broken parts?

Maybe Kaylan could.

The thought jolted me, stirring a mix of hope and confusion. Was I developing feelings for her? I was certainly jealous of Garret. Disturbed by these revelations, I lost my appetite and excused myself from the table.

Walking back to my room, Leora joined me but stayed silent. Her presence was steady, unobtrusive, like she knew I needed time to wrestle with my thoughts.

At my door, she placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, her grip warm and grounding. “You know you can talk to us too, right? If therapy isn’t enough, I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone, Logan.”

I locked my gaze with hers, her expression open and sincere. For a moment, the words stuck in my throat, but then, in a rare burst of spontaneity, I croaked, “Do you want to come in?”

She smiled softly, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and nodded.

As we settled into the armchairs next to my bed, I noticed her watching me closely—too closely. Her gaze tracked every small movement I made, every fidget, every twitch of my fingers.

“Stop psychoanalyzing me, Leo,” I muttered, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

She chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Force of habit, Lo. Occupational hazard.”

I shook my head, letting out a dry laugh. “Of course it is.”

Her humor faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious. “But I’m not here as a psychologist. I’m here as your sister. Remember that.”

The word hit me harder than I expected.

Sister.

I let it linger, trying to remember the last time I’d felt like I had a family.

“Ravenrock,” I began hesitantly, the name alone making my chest tighten. “It wasn’t just the physical stuff, Leo. Garret… he had this way of making you doubt yourself. Of making you question everything you thought you knew.”

Her face softened, her eyes reflecting the weight of my words. She didn’t interrupt, just let me speak.

“I kept thinking I could outsmart them, you know? Come up with a plan, some way to get ahead. And then there was Tyka. I told you about my adoptive brother, right?”

She nodded, so I continued, “His torture was abstract. Random. He just liked… loved… seeing me in pain. He wanted to break me, and sometimes… I think he did.”

Leora leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “Logan, he didn’t break you. If he had, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be you.”

I huffed a bitter laugh. “I am not me, Leo.”

Her gaze softened, and she reached out, resting a hand lightly on my knee. “You’re the same guy. The one who gave me hell for calling my gun a baby. The one who flicks me on my forehead. The one who keeps a notorious count of Zarek-saves.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

But her smile faded slightly, her tone shifting back to something more serious. “You’re also the one who called me his family—your sister. And now, I’m telling you the same thing.”

I swallowed hard, staring down at my hands. “Your brother is broken, Leo.” And fuck me because my voice cracked.

“He’s the guy who can’t sleep because the bed feels like too much. The one who finally gets sleep and wakes up sweating from nightmares. The one who can’t even look at red heels without feeling sick.” My hands clenched into fists. “And the one who can’t stop blaming Kaylan for fucking Garret Tyson.”

The words left my mouth like venom. I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught of memories, my rant pounding in my skull like a migraine.

“Kaylan,” I said after a pause, her name heavy and dragging in my throat. “The Kaylan I knew seven years ago isn’t the same woman I saw at Ravenrock. Back then, she was fierce, confident, loyal. But there? She seemed like she was with Garret. Like she was helping him.”

Leora tilted her head, studying me. “But was she really? You know her initial interrogation cleared her of any malicious ties to Garret’s organization.”

I nodded slowly, the conflicting memories flashing in my mind. “I know. I mean, I know she’s not allied with him. Hell, she saved my life—kept me from freezing to death, left bandages, said things that made me think she was trying to help me. And when we escaped… she was there.”

I recalled the devastating cost of our escape for her—the bullet she took, the one I could’ve have prevented from hitting her. A fresh wave of guilt crashed over me.

I shook my head, dispelling the self-loathing. “Why do I keep feeling this… this anger?”

When I looked up, Leora was studying me, her voice soft but steady. “You don’t have all the answers, Lo. And that’s okay. That’s why therapy matters—not just for the things that happened to you, but for the things you can’t make sense of.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s just… talking in circles?”

“Then you’ll have tried,” she said simply. “And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find something—an answer, a little peace, whatever you need to take the next step.”

I met her gaze, her unwavering determination catching me off guard.

“Okay,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” she said. “Because we need you, Lo. Not just Gunner. You . Logan.”