Chapter 2
TWO
Vivian
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the silence.
Not the tense, suffocating quiet I’ve lived with for weeks, where every creak of a floorboard means someone might be coming to check on me, where whispers hide behind walls, and every day feels like it might be the day I’m given to that man.
This silence is different. It’s soft and almost… peaceful.
It takes a few seconds for my mind to catch up with the rest of me. My body feels heavy, like I’ve been asleep for a long time, and my muscles ache in places I didn’t even know could hurt.
Slowly, I open my eyes and frown. I have no idea where I am.
A wooden ceiling stretches above me, and warm sunlight filters through a nearby window. The room smells faintly like pine and something else… coffee, maybe.
I blink, trying to focus, and look around, taking stock of my surroundings. I see an armchair across from me, a wooden coffee table, and a stone fireplace.
My heart races.
Where am I?
I sit up too quickly, and a wave of dizziness crashes over me. My vision blurs, and I grab the edge of the couch to steady myself. My eyes dart around the room. Panic rises fast and sharp in my chest.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I inhale slowly and exhale a deep breath. As the seconds tick by and my breathing calms, something becomes apparent.
This isn’t one of the cult houses. It doesn’t have the same layout as the places they’ve kept me in. No white walls, no scripture banners hanging everywhere. The floor plan isn’t as closed off.
The realization hits me with a sudden rush of relief. I’m not there anymore. I made it out. My chest heaves as gratitude and disbelief swirl together. I escaped.
I jump as a crash comes from the next room, every sense on high alert again.
“Shit.”
It’s a male voice. I lean forward on the couch, peeking around the wall. A man is kneeling on the floor, brushing up some powder.
He turns, and our eyes lock.
I stiffen as he pushes to his feet and turns toward me. Neither of us moves.
I take him in, my gaze roaming over him. He’s big. Massive. At least six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a thick build that fills the doorway where he’s paused. Dark brown hair falls over his forehead, and his strong jaw is shadowed with stubble.
My pulse pounds in my ears as his green eyes hold mine.
He slowly raises both hands, palms facing me. “It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice deep and steady.
Something unfurls inside me, making me relax.
He keeps his hands raised like he’s trying not to scare me. “I’m Logan.”
“I—” My throat feels like sandpaper. “Vivian.”
The moment my name leaves my lips, a strange expression flickers across his face, something intense, but it disappears quickly.
“You collapsed in my yard yesterday,” he says carefully. “I brought you inside.”
My memory comes back in flashes. I remember my escape. Running. The tree branches and bushes snatching my clothes and skin. The threat of the men pursuing me.
I ran faster and harder. After that, things became fuzzy. I remember falling and darkness swallowing everything.
“You were unconscious,” Logan continues. “Doc came and checked you over. He gave you fluids and said you needed rest.”
My shoulders slowly relax. A doctor. That explains why I no longer feel as if I’m dying like I have for the last few weeks.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Hungry?”
My stomach answers for me with a loud growl. Heat floods my cheeks, and I see Logan’s lips twitch slightly as he represses a smile.
“Yeah,” I admit sheepishly.
“Thirsty?”
“Very.”
“The doctor said you need electrolytes. I got some Gatorade and Propel. I made Jello, and you can have light soup now. I found an egg drop and a noodle recipe. Which one sounds good?”
“Egg drop, please,” I say, my throat aching from dryness.
I watch as he goes to the kitchen and grabs me a red Gatorade, a glass of water, and a Propel. He returns and sets the water and Propel on the table next to me.
“Drink,” he orders, twisting the cap open on the Gatorade and handing it to me.
I take it gratefully, downing half the bottle in seconds. My body soaks it up like dry soil after a drought. Logan watches quietly while I finish, then goes back to the kitchen.
I wrap my arms around my knees and watch him light the stove. He’s surprisingly quiet for a man his size.
He grabs a pan to heat my soup. A few minutes later, he returns to the living room with a tray.
“I made raspberry Jello. I was going to make a pineapple one too, so you’d have a choice, but I dropped the bag. I have watermelon and lemon, if you prefer those? They’ll take a little while to set, though.”
I smile. “Raspberry is fine. Thanks.”
He nods, setting the soup down on the table. The smell makes my stomach twist with hunger.
I grab the water, downing half the glass. “You live out here alone?”
“Yeah.” Just one word. No explanation.
I glance around again. The cabin is beautiful. Everything looks handmade: the table, the chairs, even the cabinets.
“You built all this?” I ask on a hunch.
He glances over his shoulder. “Most of it.”
“That’s amazing.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, and silence falls again.
My fingers twist together in my lap. Part of me knows I should leave.
The longer I stay in one place, the easier it’ll be for them to find me.
But another part of me, a quieter part, feels safe here.
Which makes absolutely no sense. After everything I’ve been through, trust should not come easily, but somehow, it does with Logan.
Maybe it’s because he saved me. Because he’s taken care of me and hasn’t pushed me for answers.
The soup has cooled enough for me to take a sip. I moan as it slides down my throat.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you more than soup right now, but once the doc gives the all-clear, I’ll make you whatever you want,” Logan says as he sets a bowl of Jello in front of me.
I’m so thankful not to be eating plain oatmeal that I almost start crying. Sure, this isn’t what I would’ve picked, but it’s better than the bland, rationed meals I’ve had for weeks.
I eat carefully at first, but hunger quickly takes over, and I practically inhale my food.
Logan watches me quietly but doesn’t comment, something I appreciate more than he probably realizes.
“You were running from someone,” he finally comments when I’m halfway through my meal.
My fork freezes. My heart slams against my ribs.
His green eyes study me steadily. “From the cult.”
It’s not a question.
I scan his features, licking my dry lips. “You know about them?”
His green eyes darken with rage. “They’ve been causing… issues. We’ve set up a group here to help those who manage to escape. The Midnight Haven. If I’d known that you were there…” A muscle jumps in his jaw as he trails off.
He would have come for me. I know it in my bones.
“My parents convinced me to come for a visit. I didn’t know they were part of the cult,” I admit, dropping my gaze to the floor. “They gave me to Michael. Their leader.”
“Gave you?” Logan snarls.
My gaze snaps to his. “Yeah. I was supposed to be one of his brides, but—”
Logan leans closer. “But what?”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I was too big. They barely fed me.”
Logan leans forward, removes my fork, and captures my hands, waiting until I meet his eyes. “You’re not too big. You’re fucking perfect. They wanted you too weak and starved to fight back.”
I take a shaky breath. “Maybe. It almost worked.”
He swears under his breath, and his hold on my hands tightens slightly. “Tell me what happened.”
For a moment, I don’t say anything, gathering my thoughts. Then the words spill out of me.
“I planned my escape for days,” I shrug. “Maybe weeks. It was hard to keep track of time. They monitor everything. Where you go. Who you talk to. What you say.” My fingers tighten around his. “You can’t just walk away.”
“So, you ran.”
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “I waited until the guards changed shifts. There’s a path behind the outer buildings that leads into the woods. I’d been watching it for a while.”
Logan leans forward slightly as he listens. He looks pissed, but I’m not scared of him. Somehow, I know he’d never ever hurt me.
“They saw you?” he asks, his voice flat.
“Yeah,” I whisper as fear crawls up my spine at the memory. “I almost made it out before they realized I was gone.”
“How many men?”
“Three.”
A muscle pulses in his jaw again.
“They were close behind me when I reached the trees.”
Logan releases my hands and curls his into fists. He quickly moves them, hiding them beneath the table. Something about that action almost makes me smile.
“But you lost them,” he says.
“I think so.” I glance toward the windows nervously. “I just kept running.”
For hours. Through branches, over rocks, up and down hills. The brush started to thin out, and I thought I was close to a town. Instead, I made it here before my body finally gave out.
“I guess that’s when I ended up in your yard.”
Logan’s eyes burn with something fierce. Anger? Protectiveness? Maybe both. “I’m glad you did.”
The simple words send warmth through my chest.
No! I can’t have a crush on this guy. It’s probably gratitude because he saved me and looked after me. I can’t make things awkward by going all goo-goo on him and overstaying our welcome.
“Were there others? At the cult?” Logan asks, pulling me from my troubling thoughts.
“Yeah, but I didn’t see any of them. I had a few guards, I saw my parents that first day, and that was it.”
“Did they have other captives?”
I tense. “I don’t know. I was kept in one room, and they didn’t let me out. There were other buildings, but I didn’t get close to them. I didn’t hear them mention anyone else, but they didn’t talk much in front of me.”
I sag in my chair. “You think there are others?”
Logan huffs out a breath. “I don’t know.”
“I’m not being helpful,” I mumble. “I hope no one else is trapped there.”
“Me too,” he says grimly.
I finish eating in silence. When my plate is empty, I push slowly to my feet.
“Well, thank you again,” I say awkwardly.
Logan’s eyes snap up, tracking my every move as I shift from foot to foot.
“I should probably go.”
His entire body goes still. “Go?”
“I don’t want to cause problems for you,” I explain quickly. “If they’re looking for me, the last thing I want is to bring them here.”
His chair scrapes loudly across the floor as he stands. “You’re not leaving.”
The firmness in his voice surprises me.
“I-I have to.”
“No,” he says stubbornly.
“Logan—”
“It’s not safe,” he cuts me off.
“Exactly!” Frustration rises inside me. “That’s why I need to put as much distance between them and me as possible.”
His expression hardens. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I stare at him. “Excuse me?”
He steps closer. “This is your home now.”
His words hit me like a brick, and my brain stalls completely. “I’m sorry… what?”
His expression tightens. “We need to talk.”
My heart pounds.
Something tells me this conversation is about to change everything.