“You okay, bro?” the driver asked.
Logan choked around the knot in his throat. “Just hurry.”
Twenty minutes later, the car was at the curb in front of their house, and Logan stumbled out.
Disoriented.
In shock.
He heard the roar of motorcycles screaming up the street. He almost breathed out in relief until he saw it was only two lights.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out who it was.
Trent and Jud.
They flew into the drive as the wind howled and the rain battered.
They squealed to a stop, their engines killed, their eyes wild.
Trent fumbled off, soaked in blood.
Jud fell right to his knees.
“Nathan,” Logan begged. “Where is Nathan?”
“He’s gone. He’s fucking gone.” Trent wailed it.
It was half cry, half fury.
Logan bent in two.
“No.”
No.
Nathan had needed him, and he’d ignored his call.
No.
Agony froze his blood. Burned in his mind.
He swayed side-to-side, and he blinked and struggled to focus.
The only thing he knew was he had to get to Aster and explain before Jarek got there.
His head split with a rush of pain.
Unless Jarek was dead.
He pressed his hands to the sides of his head like he could stop the butchering inside.
“Get in the truck,” Trent shouted, racing for the house.
Jud was moaning.
Just fucking moaning where he’d dropped to his knees.
“I have to get to Aster,” Logan mumbled.