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Logan's POV

"Maybe start by saying you're sorry," huh?

It's a plan so difficult in its simplicity.

How am I even supposed to reach Noah? How do you look him in the eye and say 'sorry' like it's a magic word that erases years of pain I caused?

I groan and scratch the back of my head. My chest aches—not in a physical way. My mum had the family healer check me out before I left the Big House and I got a clean bill of health. Aside from my shoulder that still needs weeks of steady physical therapy to fully heal, I have no broken ribs. No cracked bones. No physical explanation for the weight behind my lungs.

This is something deeper. It's a bruise made of guilt and regret spreading behind my ribs. One that medicine and magic can't touch.

I sit on the edge of the hotel bed and sigh. The suite's quiet. Too quiet. The silence crawls over me like ivy on brick.