Logan Hayes stared at Damian Blackwood. He tilted his head, eyes flashing with anger, as though he couldn't quite believe the audacity of what was even happening.
He just glared at Damian for some time, letting silence settle in, and then he yanked his hand from Damian's before walking away.
Damian Blackwood frowned. It looked like Damon was going to make his work much more difficult than he thought.
****
Logan's footsteps were heavy, each one thudding against the ground as if he were about to shatter everything in his path.
He couldn't believe it had all come back. All the memories, the pain... the past.
It had all come rushing towards him.
And so soon?
Just when he had started believing everything was over?
Logan was wondering why Rapture needed him after all those years. What had happened to Douglas Blackwood, the heir of the Blackwood family? Why did Rapture suddenly need him?
After he ran away, he told himself he was never going back.
He was never going back to that life. To those monsters he called family. After what they did to those he loved. After what they made him become...
Logan's veins popped at his temples, blood rushing so violently through his body it felt as if he might burst.
He entered the washroom and locked himself in one cubicle, his hands trembling with the effort to contain his anger, each slight quiver reminding him of the beast he was keeping at bay.
He didn't like the way the memories of the day he fled that life kept rushing in.
When he decided to leave...
[FLASHBACK]
The dark hallway of the Blackwood mansion stretched before Logan — no, Damon back then. He moved quietly, down the silent hallway, a mixture of emotions stirring within him.
Logan didn't move gracefully. His body jerked violently.
Fear sharpened his movements, made them harsher, while anger blurred the edges of his vision with red.
He couldn't believe what he had just seen.
Who he had just lost...
And worst of all, who caused all of it...
His mentor?
That only brought his mind to one thing — he was being trained to become a monster like Rapture, his mentor was.
He had seen his mentor murder numerous people. At times he stood by his side to observe the murder, and at times he participated.
None of those murders made him feel guilty.
No.
Not even once. That was how he was brought up. The devil he was being trained to become. And he cared less — it was who he was anyway.
But the person his mentor murdered was out of the picture.
It was somebody so dear to him. Someone he adored. Someone who found the good in everything he did, no matter what.
He couldn't continue living this life. This life that made him love being called a Devil. That made him find tormenting others and destroying their happiness... fun.
He had to leave that life. She always warned him about it. And today... he was done silencing the only voice that ever tried to save him.
He was leaving this life and he had to run away. Tonight. Before they could chain him to this life forever.
Each breath felt like a knife in his chest, sharp and shallow. He moved with precision, being as quiet as possible.
"Young master," a whisper pulled him into the darkness near the servant stairwell.
It was Rosa — the only person who ever looked at him like he was human, not a weapon.
"Are you okay, Master?" her soft voice asked, and Damon nodded quietly.
"Are you sure? I knew that after what you saw today, you'd do something. Damon, I've been preparing for this day. For you to run and start afresh," Rosa, his maid, spoke, her hand caressing his cheek as his heart felt heavy.
Damon's lower lip quivered as he stared at her, his fists balled.
"I'm fine, Rosa," Damon whispered, his eyes on the ground, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
Her hands trembled as she shoved a worn leather bag into his arms. Inside: a wad of cash.
"This should help you, Damon. Go now!" she commanded, but the weak part in her tone never vanished.
With shaking hands, Damon took the money from Rosa. He tried so hard to thank her, but his words caught in his throat as he stared at the weeping woman before him.
"Good luck, boy," Rosa spoke weakly.
"Thank you," Damon whispered.
"No need. Now go, son!"
Without thinking, Damon hugged Rosa, tears running down his face. Rosa reciprocated, patting his back gently.
"This should not be who you are anymore. You should be a different person, so that they won't catch you... ever," Rosa warned, and when they pulled away she gave him a weak smile, her dark eyes moist.
A single shiver ran through him, but he stood tall — because if he let himself bend, he'd break.
Suddenly, Rosa heard sounds... footsteps.
"You have to leave now," she whispered, glancing nervously down the hall. Damon looked behind him. It sounded like she was right — though it was too dark to see.
Logan clenched the bag, swallowing the lump rising in his throat.
"Why are you helping me?" he rasped, guilt clawing at him. If they found out, she'd be punished. Worse.
Rosa inhaled deeply, tears strolling down her cheeks.
"Because," she began, her voice shaking slightly. "Because you're not like them. And if anyone deserves a life... it's you."
She placed a hand on his shoulder. Damon was touched. Tears threatened to pour, but he would not let them. He turned away quickly, blinking hard as his jaw clenched, every muscle tight with the effort of not falling apart.
"Go now. I think they're getting closer... It'll be fine. Trust me." She smiled one last time at Damon — just before a bullet tore through her from behind.
Her eyes widened in shock. She stood for a while, her hand finding her wound.
Damon froze.
The bullet hit her just below the ribs. Rosa staggered, her fingers flying to the spreading red on her blouse. She turned toward Damon, arm outstretched, eyes pleading.
"Logan," she whispered, getting weaker with each passing second.
"It suits your new identity..."
Then she collapsed.
The shooter stood where she once had — gun still smoking. He was probably just a bodyguard doing his job.
He was also surprised by the turn of events. He thought it was an intruder about to steal information for the government.
"I'm so sorry, I—"
Without thinking, Damon pulled out his gun and shot the bodyguard, and he went down in seconds.
With tears in his eyes, he bent and stared at Rosa, who was barely breathing.
"I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."
Then, he walked away, his heart heavy and anger bubbling up with each step. He kept memorizing the kindness in her face, the trembling courage in her hands.
It was all their fault.
Passing through a secret door in the servant room, Damon fixed his black hoodie and then —
He ran.
Rain poured from the heavens, drenching him as he sprinted across the fields, the Blackwood estate shrinking behind him.
He was done with that life.
[END OF FLASHBACK]
"I am not Damon anymore,"
Logan whispered to himself, his tone icy.
His aura — threatening.