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.”

over his left eyebrow, added, “It was cleverly set up, but that’s

face unreadable, responded with at voice colder

painting his features. “We…we found him. But when we approached, he…” He trailed off, exchanging a quick glance with the shorter man, who picked up where the first left

shot himself.

Logan’s sharp gaze moved from one man to the other, weighing them, judging their worthiness. “I entrusted you both with not just my safety, but hers as well.” His

desperation creeping into his voice, stepped forward. “Logan, we’ve been with you for years. We’ve faced countless threats together. Please,

in his voice, added, “We want revenge as much as you do. Let us make this right.” But Logan wasn’t swayed. “One

shimmered with unshed tears, perhaps from shame or the weight of the failed responsibility.

“Leave. Now.”

Logan didn’t spare

back to Logan’s house was tense. The silence was only broken by the occasional sigh from Logan or the quiet hum of the car engine. The sprawling mansion came into view, its large iron gates

opulence of the place was always something that caught my attention, but today, my focus was solely on 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 mafia wounds than

wasting a moment, he gestured towards one of the plush sofas in the expansive living room. “Sit,” he ordered Logan, who complied without protest, clearly used to the doctor’s no-nonsense

our outing today, none of this would have happened. As I watched, Dr. Mitchell expertly cleaned the wound, his hands moving with precision and confidence. There was a practiced grace in hist

sign of the pain he must have been in. Their eyes

lucky?” The doctor glanced up, his eyes holding a spark of humor. “You’re still sitting

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

didn’t look 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

comforting smile, though

me, aching for the pain that our mate was in. It felt almost aggravating, for her to be so attached to Logan, but I

stitched up Logan’s wound. It’s not fair. I felt helpless in

the last stitch was secured and the wound bandaged, Dr. Mitchell packed up his equipment. Before he left,

promise to do just that. The door clicked shut behind Dr. Mitchell, leaving only Logan and me in the room. The weight of the day’s events hung