Logan stared at Bella, who was fading away in his arms.

She had inhaled too much smoke. Her heart had stopped.

His mind went completely blank — utterly, stupidly blank. He could not think. He could not hear the people who had seen him and were rushing over, shouting his name.

With shaking hands, he gently lowered Bella to the ground.

There was no time to hesitate. No time to stop.

Tearing away the heavy layers of clothing hindering him, he placed his hands on her chest and began chest compressions. He had never properly learnt how to perform them, having only heard about them briefly during a university lecture. His movements were awkward and uncertain, driven more by desperation than knowledge.

Each time he pressed down, a surge of power shot through his burned arm, followed by a searing pain as if the flesh were being scorched all over again.

He did not stop.

Swallowing the agony and grinding his teeth, he continued the compressions again and again, refusing to let her slip away.

“Bella… Isabella….”

A desperate plea slipped through her clenched teeth.

“If you are truly Isabella…”

‘If I still exist within the memories you lost, I cannot lose you again.’

Unaware of his own condition and consumed by panic, he focused solely on reviving Bella. The search party rushed in around him.

“Your Grace, get a hold of yourself!”

“We’ll take over!”

They forcibly pulled the Duke away from Bella and took over the resuscitation themselves.

Collapsing onto the grass, Logan stared with distant eyes at the frantic movement around Bella. Between the bodies, he caught sight of her bloodless face, and fear consumed him.

Behind them, the mansion was still burning, the flames roaring as if intent on consuming her completely.

“Water! Bring more water!”

“There are still people trapped inside!”

“Thank God—thank God. Logan, if I had lost you too, I—”

The memory overlapped without warning.

He could see his mother’s arms around him as they watched their home being engulfed by flames. It was a memory he could never erase: standing there helplessly and being able to do nothing but watch.

Even now, despite having everything in his grasp, he was powerless against the fire.

His fingers curled into fists and the cold earth bit into his nails.

“—Cough….”

A faint sound reached his ears.

Bella’s body, which had been so still only moments ago, suddenly jerked. She took a harsh, broken breath, then began to cough violently.

Logan forgot how to breathe.

He could only stare at her, afraid that even blinking would make her disappear again.

Driven by instinct alone, he dropped to his knees and crawled towards her. The lifeless pallor that had drained her lips slowly began to fade, color returning little by little. A faint, uneven breath slipped past them.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut.

The heart that had seemed to stop with hers finally began to beat again.

“Bella.”

Logan lifted Bella’s limp body into his arms and called her name softly.

A faint groan escaped her lips.

She was breathing again, but it was far too soon to feel relieved.

Cradling her carefully, he carried her towards the carriage. Near the line of search-party carriages, Jack Hunter stood, bound and being questioned. Their eyes met.

Jack looked at Logan, covered in soot and drenched in sweat, and let out a hoarse scoff.

“What? I thought she’d be dead. That lowborn wench is absurdly lucky.”

Until now, he had ignored the police officers’ questions, but he managed to find enough breath to sneer.

Logan’s gaze darkened with fury at the mocking tone.

He did not respond.

It felt like a waste of time to give him any attention.

“This time, I’ll make sure you rot in prison and never walk out again.”

His voice was low and restrained, yet conveyed an unmistakable finality.

Without another glance, Logan stepped past him and climbed into the carriage. It lurched forward immediately, as though it knew there was no time to waste.

Even inside the carriage, Logan refused to let go of Bella.

She was still breathing, but she had not regained consciousness. Every second felt unbearable. He wanted to take her to a doctor immediately and hear them say that she would be all right. But the carriage could only rattle and jolt along the rough forest road, unable to move any faster despite his silent desperation.

“Shh… it’s all right. Calm down.”

Each time the carriage lurched, Bella trembled as though seized by spasms, and Logan steadied her gently.

Her body was covered in marks from her desperate attempt to escape. The skin on her arms and legs was scraped and bloody. The sight twisted Logan’s expression with pain.

She was enduring things she should never have had to endure — because of him.

“Help… me… It’s too hot… I can’t… breathe….”

Suddenly, Bella began to convulse.

Her unfocused eyes wandered through the empty air as though she were trapped in a nightmare. She clung desperately to Logan’s coat before grabbing her own throat and gasping as though she were suffocating.

“It’s over. The fire’s gone now. You’re safe.”

Logan caught her hand before she could clench it so tightly that she would hurt herself. He restrained her firmly but gently, holding her just tightly enough to prevent her from hurting herself further.

She thrashed around, striking his burned arm with her movements. Pain flared through him, sharp and blinding. His brow tightened, but he did not loosen his grip.

Perhaps she sensed the steadiness of his grip.

Gradually, the violent tremors began to subside.

Logan stroked her gently, as though trying to calm someone still trapped in the memory of flames. For a moment, her trembling eased.

Then her body twisted again. Weak, broken groans escaped her lips. Her slender arms and fragile shoulders shook as though they might splinter under the strain.

“It’s me. Logan Fraser. I’m here with you.”

He called her name repeatedly, determined not to lose her.

Her body was growing colder by the second. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic gasps.

When the faint color that had just returned to her lips drained away and they turned blue, he did not hesitate.

He stripped off her damp clothes. He tore off his own soaked clothes, too.

He lifted her small, tightly curled body onto his thigh, wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, pressing her trembling back and shoulders against his bare chest.

Skin against skin, he gave her his warmth, holding her as though he could anchor her to life by sheer willpower alone.

“Bella.”

He pulled a blanket around her to shield her from the cold air, took a slow, deliberate breath and guided her to follow his rhythm of inhaling deeply and exhaling steadily.

“Isabella.”

Despite her not responding to his voice no matter how often he called her name, she suddenly looked up at him.

Her unfocused, hazy eyes settled on his face.

***

When they arrived at the estate, Logan carried Bella, who was still in a critical condition, straight to his bedroom.

She lay in his arms, her consciousness not yet fully restored, uttering faint, broken groans. With every passing second, his sense of urgency intensified. His grip on her tightened until the veins stood out starkly beneath his skin.

Although the duke’s sudden arrival and terse instructions startled the household, the head butler remained unflustered. He immediately sent for the attending physician. The cold determination shadowing Logan’s face required no explanation.

Logan gently laid Bella on his bed.

He touched her carefully, as though cradling fragile glass that might shatter at the slightest misstep. Yet even that small movement drew a pained sound from her. There was no sign of improvement.

“Bella. Look at me.”

She did not respond.

Her condition was worse than it had been in the carriage. Logan sat at the edge of the bed and cupped her face in both hands.

“Isabella.”

He cradled her chin in his hand and tried to meet her gaze. But her eyes kept drifting away, unfocused and searching elsewhere.

The hyperventilation that had started when her breathing returned showed no signs of stopping. Her blue-tinged lips trembled faintly.

Without hesitating, Logan held her face and pressed his lips to hers.

It was not a romantic kiss.

It was the sharing of breath.

“Exhale slowly.”

His low voice reverberated against her mouth.

He took deep, measured breaths deliberately. Once. And again. He breathed into her, guiding her to release it slowly and synchronizing their breathing.

Gradually, her frantic breathing slowed.

The convulsive trembling eased little by little.

After a moment, Bella’s eyelids fluttered.

Her gaze became focused.

The restless wandering of her eyes finally stopped and settled on Logan.

“…Y-Young Master?”

Disbelief flickered across her face as she looked directly at him and spoke.

That single word was all she could manage.

Her head fell limply to the side.