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.”

“It was cleverly set up, but that’s no excuse.

unreadable, responded with at voice

painting his features. “We…we found him. But when we approached, he…” He trailed off, exchanging a quick glance

shot himself. He’s

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

man, desperation creeping into his voice, stepped forward. “Logan, we’ve been with you

a hint of anger in his voice, added, “We want revenge as much as you do. Let us make this right.” But Logan wasn’t swayed. “One lapse can cost lives in our world. You know that. I can’t afford such

shame or the weight of

“Leave. Now.”

shoulders drooping in defeat. Logan didn’t spare them. another glance. Instead,

house was tense. The silence was only broken by the occasional sigh from Logan or the quiet hum of the car engine.

of the place was always something that caught my attention, but today, my

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

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

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

the doctor dabbed at his arm, but other than that, he remained stoic, his face giving away no sign of the pain he must have been in. Their eyes met briefly, a

dryly. “A falling billboard, and you call that lucky?” The doctor glanced up, his eyes holding

I

back to his old

a comforting smile, though it

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

stitched up Logan’s wound. It’s not fair. I

while, but when the last stitch was secured and the wound bandaged, Dr. Mitchell packed up his equipment. Before he left, he pulled me aside. “Keep an eye on him, okay? He puts on a brave face,

shut behind Dr. Mitchell, leaving only Logan and me in the room. The weight of the day’s events hung