“Mmm?” she mumbled.
He pushed himself up onto one knee and slipped a small black box out of his pocket.
Morgan’s eyes bugged.
“Morgan.” He held out the box, snapping open the lid. “Will you marry me?” Inside lay a ring of white gold and sapphires. It glittered and sparkled, beguiling with its promise of love and fidelity.
A sudden intake of breath proved to be her undoing, and she choked on a lump of egg. Coughing and spluttering, she hacked like a cat with a hairball.
Logan was up in a flash, pounding her back and shoving a bottle of water into her face. After a deep swallow, she heaved oxygen into her lungs, fighting for a semblance of dignity. “You want to marry me?”
“That’s the plan,” he replied, sitting back.
“The plan?”
“I mean, I want to marry you. I love you, and I want to be with you, and…” He stopped abruptly and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m rambling. This is much harder than I thought it would be.”
“Where’d you get the ring?”
“I picked it out at a jeweler during a raid last week. Why? Don’t you like it?” Sudden anxiety washed over his face. “I can get you something else.”
“No!” She shook her head. “I love it. It’s gorgeous.”
“Is that a yes then?”
With the force of a bolt of lightning, it hit her. Logan wanted to marry her. Elation sizzled through her veins. “Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you.”
With a look of intense relief, he swooped in for a kiss that left her breathless then slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.
“How did you manage that?” she asked.
“I asked your mother for help.”
“You asked my mom? Seriously?”
“Who do you think packed the basket? Or told me you like sapphires?”
An hour later, they lay side by side, staring up at the clouds. Morgan felt replete. Like her body was filled to the brim with every good emotion that existed. She gazed up at his face. “I love you.”
He gazed at her with the kind of devotion you only read about in stories. “And I love you.”
She shivered as he trailed his fingers up her arm, raising goosebumps. “I wish this moment could last forever.”
He kissed the top of her head then her lips, hands cupping her face. “It will.”
***
The next morning, Morgan got up as quietly as she could in the pre-dawn hours, trying not to disturb Logan’s sleep. Sneaking to the bathroom, she took out the pregnancy test. The moment of truth awaited. She fumbled with the packaging and peed on the stick.
Her foot tapped on the tiles as she waited, impatience and nerves making her jittery. After several tense seconds, the first line appeared. She chewed her lip. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant. Then, it showed, becoming brighter with each passing moment. The second line. I’m pregnant.
“Oh, shit.” Her hands trembled. An indescribable feeling welled up inside. Joy? Fear? It was hard to tell.
After tossing the test into the bin, Morgan slipped back in bed and nestled up against Logan, hoping his presence would soothe her. It did not. Her mind was in turmoil.
For an hour she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m going for a run, babes.”
He mumbled something and turned over, snoring. After their engagement yesterday, there had been a celebration party, and Logan went overboard. He was not the only one. There would be quite a few headaches today, she was willing to bet. Strangely enough, she felt fine this morning. The nausea was there but subdued, manageable.
Perhaps it’s the dry crackers and ginger tea I had before bed. A little tip from Jonathan whispered into her ear.
It was a beautiful morning for exercise. Crisp and clear. Easing into a slow jog at first, she did a circuit of the buildings. She was preparing to do another when a familiar voice called out.
“Hey, Morgan. Wait up.” Angie jogged over the dew-laden grass, looking girly in a hot pink tracksuit. “Can I join you?”
“Sure. Let’s go.”
“Why don’t we run down to the far end? Follow the fence?”
“Sounds good. We can make it count as a patrol.”
They set off and fell into the rhythm of running, their feet forming a steady beat. Morgan felt good, her breathing smooth and even. She kept thinking of her pregnancy, getting more and more excited. I’m having a baby!
A spontaneous grin broke onto her face, and she placed a hand over her taut belly, wondering at the life growing there. I’m telling Logan as soon as I’m done here. In fact, I’m turning back now.
She slowed. “I’m going back, Angie. I need to tell Logan something important.”
“What?” An undefined emotion crossed the younger girl’s face. She stuttered a reply. “Are you sure you don’t want to go a little further?”
They’d left the buildings behind but were not out of sight yet. The fence was still a distance off. Morgan shook her head. “No, I’m sure. I need to see him right away.”
“Okay. I’ll go with you,” Angie replied. Her dark eyes were hooded, but Morgan hardly noticed.
They turned back the way they came, and she thought she’d burst out of her skin with excitement. I’m going to be a mom! I can’t wait to tell Logan. I’m sure he’ll be happy. Just as happy as I am.
They’d gone only a few paces when Angie cried out, doubling over in pain. Morgan stopped. “Are you okay?”
Angie gasped, clutching her side. “I think I’ve got a cramp.”
“Take it easy. It should pass soon.”
“Just give me a minute,” Angie said.
Her face was twisted with pain, and Morgan moved closer to offer support. “Here, let me help you.”
“Thanks, I’m sure it will go away any moment.”
Impatience prompted Morgan to glance over her shoulder. In the distance, she spotted Logan’s tall figure striding toward her. A smile grew on her face, her heart swelling with joy. She looked back at Angie to spur the girl along. “Can you walk—”
Angie’s hand flashed to her waist. A glint of silver showed. Her body twisted, and the object swung towards Morgan’s unprotected stomach.
Alarm flared in Morgan’s mind. Instinct kicked in. She pulled back but not far enough. Pain exploded in her abdomen. She gasped, trying to catch a breath with lungs gone empty. She gripped Angie’s wrist, trying to remove the stinging agony. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for ages.” Angie grabbed Morgan’s shoulder. Her fingers dug into the muscle, pulling herself closer. The knife cut deeper.
With a cry, Morgan wrenched at Angie’s arm. Her other hand lashed out, a fist catching the girl on the cheekbone. She broke free, pressing against the bleeding wound. Blood pumped out between her fingers, thick and warm. My baby!
She gazed at Angie’s triumphant face with confusion. “Why?”
“Why? You want to know why?” Angie lunged, the knife stabbing at the air. Morgan staggered to the side, narrowly avoiding it. “Because you took Armand away from me.”
“No…I didn’t…” Morgan’s brain scrambled, unable to form a coherent thought. She’s crazy. I have to get away from her. I have to…Logan!
She looked over her shoulder, spotting him running toward them, but he was still so far away. Too far. “Lo—”
Angie sprang forward and used the moment to her advantage. Morgan dodged, but she wasn’t fast enough. The knife slid into the flesh beneath her sternum. It bit deep, sinking to the hilt. With a brutal cutting move, Angie sawed upward. The girl shrieked in anger. “He was mine!”
The pain morphed into a hellish trail of fire, burning up into Morgan’s chest. She screamed, her body set alight. Clawing at Angie’s face, she broke free. A river of blood pushed up her throat. She choked, the crimson fluid gushing over her lips. Her knees buckled, and she fell, the world moving past her eyes in slow motion. Angie’s face hovered
above hers for a second, gloating. Morgan blinked, tears fogging her vision. “Please.”
A hoarse shout sounded, and Angie was plucked away. Logan appeared in her stead, his face contorted. “Morgan. Hold on, baby. I’m here.”
She tried to speak but coughed. The words gurgled in her throat. She was drowning in her own blood. Logan grabbed her by the shoulders. He pulled her upright, holding her against him. Her head lolled forwards, and the fluid dribbled out onto his chest. It allowed her to breathe, and she sucked in a lungful of air. “Logan.”
“Don’t speak, my love. Save your strength. I’m going get help, okay? Just hold on.”
“Don’t leave me. Please.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
The world dipped and swayed around her. Her muscles were weak, the strength leaching from them on the tide of her breath. She lay against Logan’s chest. His scent enveloped her, warm and safe. His voice whispered to her, the words near and yet so far.
I’m here. I’ll never leave you. I promise.
Stay with me.
Stay.
Chapter 27 - Logan
“Don’t leave me. Please.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Logan slid his arms beneath Morgan and stood. He set off at a run, heading for the infirmary. She lay against his breast like a broken bird, her blood soaking the front of his shirt.
“I’m here. I’ll never leave you. I promise.”
“Stay with me.”
“Stay.”
He murmured the words over and over, hoping to keep her awake. The distance seemed to stretch forever. Her rasping breaths were terrible to hear, but even worse was the sudden silence.
Logan stumbled to a stop and looked down. Her eyes were closed, her skin paper white. Laying her down on the ground, he pressed his ear to her chest and felt for a pulse. Nothing. No heartbeat.
“No. Don’t die.” He grabbed her face with both hands, tapping her cheeks. “You can’t die.”
No response.
He leaned forward, breathing into her mouth. Her chest rose and fell. He repeated the procedure, punctuating it with chest compresses. “Come on, baby. Fight!”
Morgan lay lifeless, her blood soaking into the ground. After a few minutes, he was forced to acknowledge the truth. She was dead.
He brushed his thumbs over her mouth, leaving crimson smears on her cheeks. “I saw the test. I know.”
His hands curled into fists, and he choked back a bitter sob. Deep inside, something broke. Something that died years ago at his father’s hands only to come alive again at her touch. Fury welled up inside. A cold, unforgiving hatred that pushed out any thoughts of mercy or kindness. Angie.
Logan strode back to where he’d left her. His mind flashed back to the moment he saw her attack Morgan, his desperate run to intervene, the despair when he was too late, his anger…no his rage at her perfidy. He’d ripped her away from Morgan, his fist connecting with her jaw and knocking her unconscious.
An ugly bruise had formed on the side of her face, and her lip was split and bleeding. He grabbed her by the arms, lifted her up and threw her over his shoulder.
At the main building, people were gathering for breakfast. He headed there and dumped Angie on the ground, prodding her with his boot. She stirred, moaning.
“What the hell is going on?” Max asked, striding over.
“This bitch killed your sister.”
“What?” Max stopped short, floundering.
“She killed Morgan.”
“What do you mean killed? Morgan’s dead?” Disbelief flashed across Max’s features.
Angie sat up, shaking her head. She groaned, rubbing her swollen jaw. Blood trickled from her lip. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ben interrupted. “Angie? Oh, my God, Angie! What happened?”
He pushed through the crowd and reached down to help her to her feet. She leaned against him and pointed a trembling finger at Logan. “He hit me. Logan hit me.”
“You son of a bitch. How dare you touch her? I’ll break your neck, you little whelp!”
Angie clung to Ben, staring at everyone with huge eyes. She looked fragile, doll-like. Not a person there could believe her capable of murder. Angry glares turned on Logan. Silent condemnation spread from one to the other.
“Logan? What’s going on?” Max asked. His voice held a pleading note, begging him to tell them it was all a joke, a misunderstanding. “Where’s my sister?”
“I told you. She’s dead.” Logan looked at Angie. “Angie killed her.”
“You’re crazy. Angie would never hurt anyone.” Ben’s face grew purple with fury, puffing up like an angry bullfrog’s. He placed a supportive arm around her shoulders and looked at Max. “You can’t honestly believe what he’s saying?”
The crowd gathered closer, forming a half circle. A ripple spread through their ranks, whispers buzzing in the air.
“I saw her do it,” Logan said. “She betrayed us, betrayed Morgan.”
“He’s lying. He’s the one who did it. I tried to stop him, and he hit me.”
All eyes turned on Logan, evaluating, considering. He stood stock still, face a blank, but his hands were covered in blood. The bruise on Angie’s face likewise accused him.
“Logan?” Max asked.
“I didn’t do it, Max. I loved her. You know that. She was my whole world.”
A disturbance interrupted them. Elise had summoned Julianne who pushed through the crowd, crying out, “Where’s my daughter?”
Logan turned to her, and his face softened. For a split second, he allowed his pain to shine through. “She’s over there.”
She rushed in the direction he showed, followed by Max. Breytenbach and his group had shifted to the side, watching the scene unfold with grim expressions, neither participants nor bystanders.
Lisa too had drifted apart. She stared at Angie, and a strange emotion washed across her face, almost accusatory. Logan knew that she’d been friends with Morgan and now hoped she was on his side.
Elise ushered the kids and Michelle away from the spectacle, dragging a protesting Thembiso by the arm. The crowd thinned.
Logan turned back to Angie. His face hardened, becoming a mask of stone. “Tell the truth. There’s no point in lying, and it won’t save you. That I promise.”
“You’re crazy.” She backed away, looking like a hunted doe. “You need help, Logan. The only killer here is you.”
“Last chance.”
“Leave her alone,” Ben said, shielding her with his body. He looked like he had before. Strong, determined, and protective. The air of fragility that had hovered about him for weeks disappeared.
“Stay out of this, Ben. She’s manipulating you,” Logan replied.
Ben didn’t answer, but neither did he move. Angie retreated further behind him, her eyes glittering. To Logan, she looked wicked, like a malignant tumor that clung to Ben’s side. Why can’t they see it?
“Don’t listen to him. He’s trying to blame me for what he did,” she said. A sneer twisted her lips. “You killed her in a jealous rage, didn’t you Logan? Who did she screw this time?”
Logan felt violent anger twist inside him. He itched to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze the life from her. With an effort, he remained calm. His next words dropped into the atmosphere like a stone. “Did you know she was pregnant when you stabbed her? Did you know you were killing a baby?”
Confused emotion flitted across Angie’s face. She stuttered. “No…I’m not…it wasn’t me.”
“She was pregnant? Why didn’t she tell me?” The choked words alerted them to Julianne’s presence. She stood next to Max who carried Morgan in his arms. She looked like a broken doll, her head cradled against his chest, arms and legs limp.
“Yes, she was.” Logan tried not to look at the lifeless body of his beloved lest he break down. “I’m sorry, Julianne. I’m sure she would have wanted you to know, but she only took the test this morning.”
“This is insane! My daughter is
dead, and…and…” She grabbed Max’s arm for support, swaying. “Just tell me. Which one of you did it?”
“I already told you. She did.” Impatience turned Logan’s tone brusque. Despite his pity for Julianne, he felt angered that people were so ready to turn against him. “This is a waste of time. You all know me. I’ve been here from the start, helping you, all of you, to survive. Why would I kill Morgan?”
The crowd shifted, uncertain whom to believe. Breytenbach stepped forward, looking first at Logan and Angie facing off, then at Max. “Examine their knives. Whoever stabbed her will have blood on the blade.”
His words fell into the tense atmosphere, causing a ripple of speculation. Max nodded. “Good idea. Logan? Will you show us your knife?”
“Here,” Logan replied, pulling his from the sheath. He held it up. The steel edge glittered in the sun. It was spotless.
Calculating eyes turned toward Angie. She paled, taking a step back. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even have a knife on me.”
“She dropped it on the grass,” Logan said.
“I’ll get it,” Breytenbach said, slipping away.
While he was gone, the tension grew. Each second ticked by slowly. Angie fidgeted, her head swiveled as if looking for an escape route. Breytenbach returned, holding up a bloody dagger. It was long and slim, pearl handled. He turned to her and asked, “Is this yours?”
“No. No, it’s not,” she replied, but her eyes had gone wide.
Ben stared at the knife for several seconds. He paled. “Angie? What did you do?”
“Nothing. It’s not mine.”
Ben backed away from her, shaking his head. “I gave you that knife.”
“But…I…it’s not mine, I swear. It’s a different one.” Her lips quivered. She reached out to Ben, grasping at air and pleaded, “Please. You must believe me.”
Ben shook his head. He did not take her hands.
Naked rage flared in her eyes. Her hands clenched into fists, and she stamped her foot. “Stupid old man. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
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