"Still," Logan said, his voice low with barely restrained irritation, "you wait for my call. You don't show up on your own."
Mia let out a soft chuckle, unbothered by his attempt to sound commanding. It danced in the silence like a dare.
Logan's jaw tensed, his lips twitching into something between annoyance and reluctant amusement. But then, his eyes drifted—catching the faint white bandage wrapped tightly around her palm.
"You've been reckless," he remarked, his tone shifting, brow arching in quiet inquiry.
Mia glanced down at her hand, then back at him with a calm shrug. "The target wasn't very obedient."
She walked past him as if the conversation bored her, her steps unhurried but purposeful.
Logan turned, watching her with narrowed eyes. There was something in the way she moved—unapologetic, untouchable.
His gaze lingered longer than necessary.
The flicker of emotion in his eyes wasn't just curiosity. It was concern. Subtle but unmistakable.
He didn't call out to her.
