His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 163: Gunshot

"Who is him, Dad?" I asked under my breath. I didn't want to wait until the call was over. I needed answers now. I was already losing my mind.

But of course, Dad gave me that look again. The one he gives me when he's disappointed—like I was a kid who asked a dumb question.

I didn't care.

I really didn't.

I needed to know what the hell was going on.

Then the voice on the phone broke through again.

"Please... come to number 6..." He was trying to give an address, but the line started cracking again, and I could barely hear him. "...I'm here with my dead, bloody wife, please... come quickly..."

His voice was shaking. Broken. The sound of someone who was about to give up.

"Don't let me die with her too," he begged. "Please... someone save me..."

I felt something twist in my chest.

Whoever this man was... he sounded like he was about to collapse. Or worse.

But Dad, always trying to stay calm, spoke again. "Look, you can't just ask us to save you without telling us where you are. The line broke while you were trying to give the address. Please... just try again, okay? Take a deep breath."

His voice was softer now. Still tense, but controlled.

And then it hit me.

That voice on the other side of the phone—it sounded familiar.

Too familiar.

Like I'd heard it before, more than once, but couldn't quite place it in the moment.

My heart started to race.

"Okay..." the man said, a little more calmly now. Like he was trying to steady himself. "I'll tell you again. This time clearer..."

I held my breath. I didn't even realize I was doing it, but I was gripping the edge of the table like my life depended on it.

"Go on," Dad said. "I'm listening."

The man took in a shaky breath.

"I'm at number 66 Avenue—"

BANG!

A gunshot tore through the line.

Loud. Violent. Sudden.

I gasped and jumped, my chest tightening so fast it hurt.

Then...

Silence.

The call cut off.

The air in the room felt too heavy to breathe. The silence after that gunshot was the kind that made your ears ring.

"What the hell just happened?" I whispered, my throat dry.

I looked at my dad. "What's happening, Dad? Who was that? Why does his voice sound familiar?"

No answer.

He looked just as shaken as I was—but he was better at hiding it.

But I wasn't. I was freaking out. Heart pounding. Mind spinning.

This was the first time in my life I'd ever been scared for someone I didn't even know.

And something told me...

This wasn't just some random stranger.

"Dad... what's going on?" I asked, my voice cracking a little as the shock still sat heavy on my chest. "Who was killed? Who's dead?"

But he didn't answer.

Not even a glance.

He just walked past me like I wasn't even there, like I was just a shadow standing in his way. His steps were fast, rushed.

I followed him. I had to.

"Dad, who was that on the phone?" I asked again, matching his pace. "Why did the voice sound so damn familiar?"

He didn't look at me. Not once.

And that just made my chest tighten more.

"Dad, please," I said again, my voice growing louder. "Talk to me. Who was it? What's happening? Don't leave me in the dark like this."

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He finally stopped, just for a second, and turned to me with an irritated look.

"Logan, leave me alone," he said flatly. "I've got more important things to do right now. Important places to be."

I stared at him, frowning.

"By 'important places,' you mean the one where someone just got murdered?" I asked, arms crossed.

He gave me a cold look. "Did you hear me say that? Did you hear the word 'murder' come out of my mouth? No. So leave it alone."

"No, I won't," I snapped, moving to block his path. "You can't just walk into danger like that, Dad. You're putting your life on the line."

He raised his voice a little. "Do you even know who I am?"

"Yeah, I do," I replied, standing my ground. "You're my father. My only father. And I won't just stand by and let you walk into a damn trap."

His eyes softened for a second—but only a second—before hardening again.

"Logan, the person on that call... he's someone very close to me. I can't let him die. I can't abandon him."

There was a sharp pain in his voice when he said that.

"I get that, Dad. I do," I said quickly. "You're loyal. You don't turn your back on people. I know that. But this? This isn't your fight. This is what the police are supposed to handle. This is dangerous."

But he kept walking.

I followed.

"Logan, were you deaf when I said this man is my friend?" he shot back without stopping.

"And friends don't have names now?" I asked, getting frustrated. "Why are you being so damn secretive? Why won't you just tell me who it is?"

He didn't answer.

Just kept walking down the hallway like a man possessed.

When we got to his bedroom door, he yanked it open and slammed it right in my face.

The sound echoed in the hallway. Loud. Final.

"Fuck!"

I banged my hand against the wall, frustrated beyond belief.

"What the fuck is wrong with this man?!" I growled. "Why can't he just let the police do their damn job for once?"

I stood there in that hallway, fists clenched, heart racing.

My gut was screaming at me that something wasn't right.

Something was off.

And I had a bad, bad feeling...