Redeeming Logan

Chapter Thirty-One

Taliah

I awake the next morning sore and with the need to pee. My limbs are tangled in Logan’s, and disentangling them without waking him up was a whole ass task in itself. My little victory dance of managing to do that was postponed with my screaming bladder. Rushing to the bathroom, I sigh as I relieve myself in the toilet. Finishing up, I head over to the sink to wash my hands. Stopping mid wash to stare at the bruises mottling my skin. A smile came to my lips at the large one circling my neck. After drying my hands, I gently prod at the purple and blue fleshy collar. Looking down my body, Logan’s name stares back at me in angry red letters, still healing, and irritated from our sex marathon. My fingers drift over it, snagging along the scabby flesh, I remember how it felt when Logan placed his ownership on me. Knowing I’m his takes a burden off my shoulders that I didn’t know was there .

Padding back into the bedroom, Logan snores, laying on his back, his chest bare, causing a blush to rise to my cheeks at the memories of last night. My pussy is still sore from the assault his cock had on it. He definitely knows how to make a woman feel owned, that’s for sure. I stand there inside the bathroom door, watching him sleep until the bright idea comes to me. An idea that could go completely haywire if I fuck it up, but I’m determined to do this.

Rushing quietly to my closet, I toss on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. Grabbing a duffle bag off the top shelf and filling it with extra clothes and shoes before heading out and towards Logan’s desk. I scribble a note for him and grab his key ring and key card off the end table next to his head. With one last lingering glance, I exit the room, the steel shutting behind me with a soft click.

I head down to Logan’s workshop as fast as I can, hoping to get in and out before he wakes up. Scanning his card against the reader, the door pops open. The smell in the room is horrendous thanks to the dead bodies still strapped to the table. I hold in a dry heave as I rush towards Logan’s cabinet in the corner, wrenching open the door, and pulling out various items and stuffing them into the duffle along with my clothes. Different lengths of rope, duct tape, several knives in different shapes and sizes, a small vial labeled Ketamine, and a few syringes. Bag packed up tightly, I heave it over my shoulder and hurry from the room.

Slowly making my way through the maze of steel doors until I find the exit door looming ahead. The same door Logan brought me through months ago. It looks less intimidating now than it did the first time I saw it. Swiping Logan’s key card against the security lock, it turns green, beeping, before the lock disenages. I push open the door, walking over the threshold into the stage rooms ahead. The squeak of the tile beneath my converse is the only noise in the hall. Finally finding Mr. Pickett’s office, I wrench the door open, relieved the room is empty, then closed the door quietly behind me. Spying a tall file cabinet in the corner of the room, I hurry over to it, pulling each drawer open until I find the file I’m searching for. Shannon Richards. I stuff it inside of the duffle bag and sprint out of the room like it’s on fire.

Rushing for the front door, I push it open, nearly getting blinded by the bright morning sun. Shielding my eyes, I trudge towards the car that’s parked off to the side of the building. Fiddling with Logan’s key ring, I see the car fob attached; clicking the unlock button, the tail lights of the car light up, making me sprint towards it. Tossing the heavy duffle back into the passenger seat before rounding the car and climbing into the drivers side. The car smells like Logan inside, making my heart beat faster in panic at this being an awful idea. I steel my resolve and push the key into the ignition, the car roaring to life beneath me. I’ve driven before, in drivers ed, but never for pleasure. I guess this is as good of a time as any to do that.

The drive to Shannon’s last known address was exhausting—six hours of exhaustion to be exact. I park across the street, leaning back in my seat with a huff. The sun set a few hours ago, and the cabin of the car shrouded in darkness. The two story house across the street is dark except for the living room light, illuminating the room within. From my spot, I can only see a couch and a coffee table in the room, a large blanket covered lump lying on the couch. After an hour of no movement anywhere in the house, I determine it’s time to get this shit over with. I reverse the car into the small driveway, making sure the trunk is close to the front steps.

Rooting through the duffle bag I grab the Ketamine, filling a syringe with what I hope is the correct dose, then swing the bag over my shoulder, and make my way to the quiet house. The wooden stairs creek ominously under my feet as I ascend them. I look into the window next to the door and Shannon still hasn’t moved from her spot on the couch. My hand reaches out to test the door knob, resisting the urge for a victory screech as it easily turns in my palm. Pushing the door open and squeezing through the small opening before closing it softly behind me. I hold my breath as I approach the back of the couch, the syringe held tightly in my fist, poised and ready. Scooting around the end, my eyes trained on Shannon’s sleeping form, her arm dangling off the edge like she hasn’t a care in the world.

I kneel down next to her, head already tilted towards me with her hair falling over her face, making my job this much easier. Reaching up with the needle, I slide it into the skin of her neck and depress the plunger quickly. Shannon doesn’t stir, only a soft snore slipping past her lips, I wait on the floor for a few minutes, waiting for the drug to take effect. After what seems like an hour, I lift Shannon’s limp hand and drop it next to her side a few times to make certain she’s out like a light.

Ripping the blanket off her body, I thank whoever is watching over me that she’s wearing clothes under there, even if it’s just an oversized t shirt. Unzipping the duffle back, I grab the rope out, making quick work to tie her wrists and ankles together, taking care to put her wrists behind her back so she can’t slip out of them. Ripping a piece of duct tape off, I slap it over her mouth because I don’t feel like hearing her screeching when she wakes up in the trunk of the car. I sling the duffle bag back over my shoulder and hoist Shannon’s comatose body up under the armpits and drag her from the house, huffing and puffing as I go. She’s essentially just skin and bones, but damn, who knew dragging a body would take this much muscle power.

By the time I get her down the stairs and to the trunk of the car, I’m sweating bullets. I managed to knock Shannon’s head against every single wooden step on the way down as well as the bumper of the car when I was pushing her inside. The knowledge that she could wake up with a concussion makes me smile as I slam the trunk door shut. I don’t bother checking to make sure no one was watching me before I slide into the driver's seat, turn the key, and peel out of the driveway back to Harmony Heights. Practically bouncing in my seat with giddiness as I imagine the smile Logan will grace me with at his surprise.