Chapter 6 - The Shadow Twin Confrontation
The icy loading dock was dead quiet except for the hiss of steam pouring from the truck's shattered radiator.
Julian lay sprawled in the slush, his cashmere coat stained with filthy grease and melted snow.
The mercenary who had aimed the pistol was unconscious against the retaining wall, his weapon lying five feet away in an oily puddle.
Julian looked up at Logan, his mouth twitching as shock slowly warped into naked hatred.
“You pathetic coward,” Julian hissed, clawing at the icy pavement to push himself onto his elbows.
“You faked your death, scurried through the gutter for five years, and crawled back for a diner waitress and a bastard.”
Logan did not flinch; his grip on the heavy steel tire iron stayed rock steady.
“He isn’t a bastard, Julian. He is my son, and you will never lay a hand on him.”
I stood trembling behind Logan’s broad shoulders, clutching the laundry sack with my newborn pressed hard against my racing heart.
The raw heat radiating from Logan’s jacket felt like an anchor pulling me back from the edge of madness.
“Logan…” my voice broke, barely a whisper lost in the freezing wind.
He didn't turn his head away from Julian, but his voice softened with gut-wrenching tenderness.
“Get inside the cab of the truck, Joanna. The engine is running, and the heater is on full blast.”
“No,” Julian yelled, struggling to his feet while clutching his bruised ribs.
“You don’t walk away from this, Logan! The entire board knows you’re an unstable fugitive from a state asylum!”
“The board knows what you paid them to believe,” Logan answered, taking one measured step forward.
Julian stumbled back against the crushed front fender of his town car, realizing he had no physical leverage left.
“You think taking that child saves you? Eleanor drafted the trust with five airtight corporate contingencies!”
“Eleanor was a criminal, and you are just her hollow copy,” Logan replied coldly.
“I have the clinical records from the pediatric oncology wing, Julian. The real records, not the sanitized ones you filed with the FDA.”
Julian’s face went completely bloodless, even paler than when the truck had first struck his car.
“Where did you get those?”
“From Father,” Logan said quietly. “He kept them hidden in Saint Jude’s backup archives for seven years.”
The headlights of two security SUVs suddenly swept across the high brick walls at the top of the ramp.
Julian’s backup team was arriving, alerted by the perimeter alarm triggered during the crash.
“You’re out of time, brother,” Julian sneered, spitting blood onto the asphalt. “They will shoot you on sight.”
Logan turned swiftly, grabbing my elbow with gentle urgency and guiding me toward the passenger side of his battered pickup.
“Get in, now!” he urged.
I climbed into the high seat, my post-birth cramps biting fiercely into my abdomen as I protected the baby in my arms.
Logan slammed my door shut, sprinted around the hood, and vaulted into the driver's seat.
Julian lunged forward, grabbing the side mirror of the truck with both hands.
“If you leave this city, Logan, I swear to God I will dismantle her life piece by piece until she begs to surrender!”
Logan shifted the manual transmission into reverse with a violent snap.
“You don't even know where we're going, Julian.”
The truck tires spun against the slick slush, caught traction on dry asphalt, and surged backward.
Julian was thrown off balance, tumbling onto the concrete as Logan swung the steering wheel hard.
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The pickup reversed out of the loading bay corridor just as the first security SUV crested the hill.
Logan slammed the stick into first gear, flooring the accelerator into the freezing darkness of the city streets.
