Chapter 30 Saint
Saint
She comes in alone.
No guards.
No visible weapons.
Which tells me everything I need to know.
Perfect hair.
Perfect posture.
Perfect predator.
She closes the door behind her with quiet precision.
“Mr. Lawson,” she says pleasantly. “I’m pleased you could join us.”
I don’t answer.
Silence is a weapon.
She walks a slow circle around me, heels clicking softly against the concrete.
“You’ve caused me a great deal of inconvenience,” she continues. “And you’ve made my son… emotional.”
I finally lift my eyes to her.
“Your son is trying to save lives,” I say. “You should try it sometime.”
She smiles.
Not angry.
Not offended.
Just amused.
“I didn’t raise him to be weak.”
She stops in front of me, studying my face like she’s evaluating merchandise.
“You’re going to help me get my granddaughter back.”
“She’s not yours.”
She sighs like I’m a stubborn child refusing vegetables.
“You’re very attached to her,” she says thoughtfully. “That’s good. It means you’ll cooperate.”
“I won’t.”
She tilts her head slightly.
“Everyone does.”
She nods once.
The door opens.
Two men step inside.
Big.
Quiet.
Professional.
“Not yet,” she says calmly. “We’re just talking.”
The men leave again.
The door shuts.
She leans closer.
Close enough that I can smell her perfume—expensive and sharp.
“Your little town was charming,” she says softly. “I think I’ll buy it when this is over.”
Rage rises in my chest like fire.
“Touch them again,” I say quietly, “and I will kill you.”
She laughs.
The sound echoes off the concrete walls.
“Oh, Mr. Lawson.”
Her eyes gleam.
“That’s the plan.”