His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 272 A New Perspective

Ella

The weight of the billboard bore down, threatening to crash onto me. Just as I braced myself for impact and felt Ema’s strength surge through me, preparing to lunge out of the way or stiffen my body to repel the impact, Logan surged forward, knocking it away with his superhuman strength.

It was an impressive feat, but as the dust settled, I noticed blood beginning to seep from a wound on his arm. I heard screams and panicked voices around me. Innocent shoppers who were just as shocked as I was. But I didn’t care about them. “Logan!” I shouted, rushing to his side.

He brushed me off with a smirk. “I’ve had worse.” But his eyes betrayed the concern he was trying to hide. “His wound,” Ema said, drawing my attention back to his arm. “It’s… bad. It hurts me, too.”

I had heard the stories before, about ghost pain, caused by a mate getting hurt. It was faint, but it was there. And I was worried, too.

The dust still hung in the air, a misty remnant of the fallen billboard. Logan stood, his armi dripping blood, while I tried to absorb the shock of what had just occurred. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed, bringing with them two men. I started to back away, frightened, but Logan put his good arm around me and gave me a squeeze.

“They’re our men,” he murmured. “Not enemies.”

The men approached, glancing at the wreckage, then at Logan’s bleeding arm, their expressions morphing from concern to sheer panic.

“Boss,” the taller one began, the strain evident in his voice. His dark hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. “We arrived too late. We tracked him down, but we couldn’t intercept him before he triggered the trap.”

a stockier man with a scar over his left eyebrow, added, “It was cleverly set up, but that’s no excuse. We should have been

face unreadable, responded with at voice colder than

found him. But when we approached, he…” He trailed off, exchanging a

himself. He’s

other, weighing them, judging their worthiness. “I entrusted you both with not

with you for years. We’ve faced countless

as you do. Let us make this right.” But Logan wasn’t swayed. “One lapse can cost lives in our

bodyguards looked devastated. The taller man’s eyes held a plea, while the shorter man’s shimmered with unshed tears, perhaps from shame or the weight of the failed responsibility. But Logan remained unmoved. He turned away,

“Leave. Now.”

as the two men left, their shoulders drooping in defeat. Logan didn’t spare them. another glance. Instead, he turned

drive back to Logan’s house was tense. The silence was only broken by the occasional sigh from Logan or the quiet hum

my attention, but today, my focus was solely on the man beside

were barely out of the car when the side door to the mansion opened, revealing a middle-aged man with silver hair, glasses perched on his nose, and a medical bag in hand. This was Dr. Mitchell, a trusted ally of Logan’s and, as Logan explained on our way inside, a man who had patched up more

towards one of the plush sofas in the expansive living room. “Sit,” he ordered Logan, who complied without protest, clearly used to

outing today, none of this would have happened. As I watched, Dr. Mitchell expertly cleaned the wound,

remained stoic, his face giving away no sign of the pain he must have been in. Their eyes met briefly,

falling billboard, and you call that lucky?” The doctor glanced

Mitchell began to stitch the wound, I found my voice. “Is he going to

up from his work but responded, “He’ll be fine, Miss. A few stitches, some rest, and he’ll be back to his old self.” “So, annoying and brash, right?” I teased, although more to calm my own frayed

comforting smile, though it didn’t quite reach his

that our mate was in. It felt almost aggravating, for her to

bond, I thought to myself, looking away while the doctor stitched up Logan’s wound.

the wound bandaged, Dr. Mitchell packed up his equipment. Before he left, he pulled

leaving only Logan and me