Raylen's cold, blue eyes stared at his half-brother, whose face was marred with blood. He observed how Logan attempted to conceal his annoyance behind his smile before eventually looking up to meet his gaze.
"It was very rude of you to not let me know that you were around, because I thought you were vacationing in Hell all this time," Raylen remarked, the unmistakable scent of Emily lingering heavily in the air, leading towards the back door of the kitchen.
"You killed me with your bare hands. What did you expect?" Logan retorted, spitting the blood that had accumulated in his mouth onto the ground beside him.
"For you to stay dead for good?" Raylen casually shrugged his shoulders. "But then you know that you deserved everything that happened until now, don't you, Brother?"
"Fucking son of the Devil," Logan glared at him before pushing himself up to stand. "You are no brother of mine. You were never my brother."
