Devil

I knocked on Logan's door, biting my bottom lip in worry, hoping he wasn't sleeping. I shift my weight from one leg to the other, debating whether to knock again because there was no response from the other side. As I raised my knuckles again, I was relieved to hear the sound of the lock turning before he opened the door. I gulped as I saw what was in front of me. Logan was shirtless, rubbing a towel through his silky hair. His muscles shook beneath his skin. I swallowed and cleared my throat.

"Yes?" he inquired huskily.

"Uh…" I began, and he raised an eyebrow at my lack of response. I cleared my throat once more before continuing, "The ceiling light in the restroom isn't working." "Would you please look into it?" I spoke softly. Unlike the master bedrooms, which have a plethora of small bulbs in the bathroom, my room, which is one of the guest rooms, has only one ceiling light to illuminate the space above my toilet.

"I'll call someone tomorrow to fix it."

"Like, right now," I say right away. He shifted his gaze to the clock on the wall behind him.

"It's almost midnight," he groaned. "I'm tired, and I don't think anyone will come if I call them now."

I bit my lip, and his gaze was drawn to my lips, his jaw slightly clenched.

"It is that..."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "What is it, Lia?" he asked, his voice softening.

"I'm afraid of the dark, and the lack of a window in the restroom isn't helping," I admitted honestly, my cheeks flushed. He'll think my explanation is childish, but I can't help myself. I've been terrified of the dark ever since that incident. He exhaled loudly as he clicked his tongue.

"Return to your room, and I'll be right there." He muttered as he entered his room. I went to my room and sat on my bed, anticipating his arrival.

He returned a few minutes later, wearing a T-shirt and holding a plastic bag. I followed him to the restroom, where he analyzed the situation while rubbing the back of his neck. I was using the flashlight mode on my phone and pointing it at him.

"Can you tell me what's in the bag?" He looked at me when I asked him a question.

"I took an extra pair of bulbs from the storeroom."

"There is an issue. "We'll need a ladder to fix it," he said, making me frown slightly.

"All right, don't tell me you don't have it." My eyes widened. He turned to face me before saying the words that nearly broke my heart.

"Exactly. I gave it to be repaired."

"How about a chair?" I inquired, hoping to find all possible solutions to my problem.

"We don't have any chairs on this floor, and the dining chair is too short," he explained. I bit the inside of my cheeks, trying to come up with another solution.

"Are you certain you gave the one you had for repair? Perhaps it's in the storeroom itself. Did you thoroughly check?" I tried to reason with him, but he didn't respond. I noticed him pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"But you can help," he said as he examined my figure, which I frowned at.

"I can't even get to your shoulder. So, how am I supposed to do it?"

"I'll lift you," he said. My heart began to pound loudly in my chest, as if on cue.

"W-What?"

"I believe you are the best option right now," he stated firmly, nodding his head as if to confirm his thought.

"You can reach the ceiling perfectly if I carry you on my shoulder," he said. I thought about what he said. If either of us loses our balance, I'll end up on the floor, my skull cracked open and my blood splattered all over the place. No way, that's a bad idea.

I shook my head, dismissing his suggestion. "There has to be another option."

"Look," Logan said as he took a step closer to me, and I gripped my phone tightly in my hand. He's intimidating right now, his eyes blazing with the usual fire. "It's either this or tomorrow," he continued impatiently, and I hate that he has a point.

"How about your office swivel chair?" He rolled his eyes and looked irritated.

"What? I'm putting my life in danger here!" I exclaimed. He chuckled slightly and shook his head. While he was doing so, I observed his hair falling on his brow.

"It isn't tall enough. And I'll do everything in my power not to drop you," he teased, and I glared at him.

"Fine, I'm not going to drop you," he said. "Let's get this over with," he said, taking my phone from my grasp and placing it on top of the bathroom vanity, the light from the phone and my room somehow illuminating the area. Logan went to check if the switch was turned off and returned to the middle of the restroom, where I was standing. I'm glad he checked because I don't want to be electrocuted while repairing the bulb.

"Stay calm throughout or you'll lose your balance," he warned. I nodded and took a few deep breaths. I bounce on my toes while rolling my sleeves up to my elbow.

"I'm ready," I said, cracking my neck, the strange pop sound calming my nerves. He cocked his brow, a small smile on his lips.

"We're not going to the Olympics," he grumbled, grabbing a wash towel from the side of the washbasin.

"Hold it," he said, and I did as he said. I felt his hands on my waist before I realized what had happened. He lifted me up and positioned me on top of the vanity.

"Woah," I exclaimed, my cheeks flushed with surprise. My palms were resting on his broad shoulders. He knelt down and took a box of new bulbs from the bag, which he opened before placing it on the slab. He locked his gaze on me for a split second before turning around and squatting down in front of me.

He then lifted my leg, placed it on his shoulder, and drew me in closer with my leg. His manly arms hold me up by my thighs, and my feet are locked in a crisscross pattern in front of his chest. My heart rate was over 100 beats per minute, and my breaths were coming out irregularly. Everything about this situation feels both wrong and right.

"Ready?" He inquired, lightly tapping my thigh, and if I hadn't been on his goddamn shoulders, I would have jerked back in an instant. I'm extremely ticklish on my thighs, and for a split second I considered informing him of it, but then decided against it. What if he does it on purpose again? No way, I'd be down in the next second with broken limbs.

"Yes," I said hesitantly, my heart palpitating in my throat. Logan straightened his grip on me slowly and carefully, gripping my legs tightly. I fisted his hair in my hands as soon as my butt left the surface, afraid to let go.

"Okay, now use the towel to remove the shade," he said as soon as I could touch the ceiling. It was the ideal height for his six-foot frame and my five-foot frame.

"Just turn it in the opposite direction," he says. I did as he instructed, and it came off easily. At the very least, someone knows what they're doing.

"How should I proceed?"

"Take out the light bulb."

"How?"

"Keep twisting it counterclockwise until it comes out," he says patiently. He hands me the new one that he's been keeping on the slab.

"Now, gently insert the bulb into the socket and turn it until you feel it lock into place," he instructs.

"Done," I exclaim as I place the shade over the light bulb.

"All right," he says as he crouches down on his knees to let me down. He then turned on the light, and the room was instantly illuminated. I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, a slight flush covering my cheeks, the events of the previous few moments pressing down on me.

"Thank you for your help," I said shyly. Why am I suddenly nervous?

Logan nodded in response, muttering, "At least now you owe to me." I rolled my eyes and decided to disregard it. I don't want to be rude because he just did me a favor. He exited the room, mumbling good night and carrying the plastic bag with him. I sighed, a bright smile playing across my lips.

I can't believe I was able to repair a ceiling light! And all while perched on the shoulder of one of the town's sexiest bachelors.

Unknown POV:

Bright sunlight falls on my closed eyelids, causing my eyes to scrunch up. Lifting my heavy head, I scan my surroundings for anything other than the moldy bread in the rusting plate and cup of water.

The bright sunlight seeping through the big exhaust fan at the bottom of the left wall tells me it's a new day. How long has it been since I've been here? More than a week, most likely. I try to free my sore hands from the restraints I've been placed in, but my efforts are futile.

The cop in me tried to hold up against all the tortures I've endured, but I don't think I can anymore. They've probably figured out by now that I'm not going to open up, that I'm not going to give them the information they seek. But how come they're still keeping me alive? I know they won't let me go because I have all the evidence against them. But I'm not going to tell them where it is. Even if they did kill me, I hope it only ends up in the hands of those who deserve it and will bring justice to the two precious souls who died.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps alerts my senses. My body immediately awakens to prepare for the physical torture that awaits it today. My captor's mud-covered dirty boots are visible. Coldwater splashes on my face, causing my wounds to burn. My hair was roughly pulled back to reveal my face, and I saw the familiar face of the person who had been physically abusing me since the day I was brought here.

"Don't make me ask you the same question I've asked you for days, sheriff." The man muttered and made a face that indicated his displeasure with the title "sheriff." I stare at him with tired, hooded eyes. His mouth opens to sneer at me, and I notice his rotten teeth and gums, which I assume are the result of meth consumption. I take a direct blow to the nose, causing my head to yank back. More blood oozes from my already broken nose, and this time I didn't try to hide my pain.

"Has there been no hope, Pete?" I hear the voice of the person I've been looking for in the last month, during which I was detained for no apparent reason. He enters through the door, dressed as if he were entering a conference room and wearing a clean grey suit. He appears to be out of place here, but no one knows he owns the entire establishment. He's the boss, and anyone would think he's a gentleman. He's a devil on the inside. It's the first time I've seen him in person; I've always heard his voice over the phone giving orders to all the bandits here. But seeing him up close makes my arms want to punch him in the face.

"Ahh, this f***er has been here for almost ten days and hasn't moved an inch. And I don't think you had a reason to come in here, Boss. I would have handled this myself." Pete told the Boss like the obedient dog that he is.

"I wouldn't have had to show up if you were doing a good job, Pete. This would have ended sooner if we had known he wouldn't give us what we wanted." With a cold glare, the man who prefers to be addressed as the Boss told Pete.

"Since you are no longer willing to cooperate, I don't see the point in keeping you around for long. And I don't want to waste my time on a futile case. So, sheriff Wilson, any final words?" The Boss pulls his silver revolver from the back of his suit and approaches where I was chained to the metal rod above my head. Because of our proximity, the scent of his rich cologne hit my nose. He checks the cylinder for the number of bullets, and I see only one, instantly realizing that he was going to aim for my head, quick and simple.

"I know you killed them, and I also know why. Don't expect your secret to being safe indefinitely. One day, the truth will be revealed, and you will be held accountable for your actions. "You can't hide forever, you coward," I snarled.

"I see that the officer in you is making you appear more daring, despite the fact that your life is at risk. I give it to you for your bravery, but you're going to die today, and there's only one other person in the world who knows the truth. And that's me. So there's no need to be concerned aboubout the truth never being revealed because it won't. Nobody is going to stop me from getting what I want, not even that little girl, as I will soon discover. And when it's all over, I'll put an end to her as well." In the end, he smirks, proving his point.

"So farewell, officer; may you rest in peace." As I watch him aim his gun at the center of my forehead, seconds turn into minutes. I close my eyes and regret not telling Karolia anything before she left. Not forewarning her about the man who is the source of her misery. I hope she finds the torn pages, that the truth does not die with me, and that my death is not in vain. Those were my final thoughts before hearing the gunshot and embracing the eternal darkness.