Chapter two
Aria
Saint.
The boy I had met only twice but had thought about at least once every day since. He was the last person I expected to lay eyes on.
I kept the gun aimed at him, my fingers tight around the grip. He wasn’t the boy from the past anymore. I had heard about him. I had inquired about him. His name was whispered in the darkest corners of society now.
They called him Il Santo, the Patron Saint of Death.
He was his father’s sottocapo and enforcer. Saint now carried out his father’s deadly decrees, killing without remorse. The softness I remembered had been stripped away, replaced by a man molded by violence. I could see it in his eyes—the emptiness, the coldness.
His daddy had broken him, twisted him into an image of himself. They looked nothing alike, but Saint dressed like him now.
His father was known for his suits. He was always in these expensive bespoke creations, his slick, greasy, dirty blond hair perfectly in place. He was the kiss-the-ring type, with big, gaudy jewels gleaming on his fingers.
But where his father had been polished and put together, Saint was rougher, rawer. Tattoos covered his skin like a second layer, ink creeping up his neck and his hands—his appearance more chaotic.
I knew his daddy was a bad man the first time I saw him, even at that young age. Not just because he was a criminal—my father was one too—but he wasn’t like Donato.
My father had a sense of loyalty, a code he lived by. He didn’t beat children. He didn’t kill women. He didn’t destroy just because he could.
I knew Saint’s father had done both.
I used to listen when my father talked about the men he dealt with—even when he didn’t know I was listening. I knew all the secrets he tried so hard to keep from me. I was a sneaky little girl, always watching, always listening.
And after a while, he stopped even trying to hide them from me. And he started teaching me how to use the information he possessed.
As I stared at the new Saint, a knot twisted in my chest. I couldn’t help it. I felt sad for him.
I ignored his comments.
“Saint. What do my friends have to do with you, Valentines?”
I kept my eyes locked on him, refusing to look away—not even once, not even for a moment to check on Jason and Isabella. They were whimpering, but I couldn't afford to lose focus.
“He stole from my family,” he said flatly. “He has to die, and the girl too. Since she saw me. No loose ends.”
“What about me, Saint?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You going to kill me too? I know who you are.”
His head tilted slightly, like the question surprised him. He shook his head slowly.
“I would never harm a hair on your pretty little head. And I won’t have to. You know the rules. You won’t talk. If I kill him and leave her alive, she most likely will. Look at her. Even after he caused her to lose her life, she’s staring at him with love in her eyes.”
He spat like the very idea tasted bad in his mouth.
Isabella whimpered but stayed quiet otherwise.
I didn’t take my eyes off Saint. I swallowed, my fingers tightening on the gun. I didn’t have to see her to know he was right—she would talk.
“What if I just shoot you right now?” I asked.
He didn’t answer at first. He didn’t even blink.
“You won’t,” he said, sounding confident.
It was cute that he had such faith in a girl he’d only met twice as a child.
Saint suddenly let out a low whistle. The smile on his face was downright evil.
Three men suddenly came from the back of the small house, filling the room with their dangerous presence. The click of their weapons made the air feel thicker. They all raised their guns, aiming them at me.
I blew out a breath and steadied my hand.
I felt the press of a gun at the back of my head. One of Saint’s men was behind me.
I hadn’t paid enough attention to my surroundings.
Fuck.
I didn’t move. I held my gun, aim steady. The cold metal of the barrel against my skull was enough to make the room spin, but I would not relinquish my weapon. My pride wouldn’t let me. It would have to be taken from me.
Saint walked over and plucked it out of my hand.
I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to try and take it back from him. I had to crane my neck just to look up into his eyes.
He was way bigger than me, stronger than me. I could fight, but I couldn’t beat him, even if I tried my hardest. And I probably would have gotten myself killed in the process of trying.
But I was my daddy’s daughter.
So it was tempting.
The room was now chaotic. My friends were crying, begging.
My pulse was pounding.
"Get the fucking gun away from her head and step the fuck away from her," Saint ordered the man behind me, his tone colder than it had been before.
His lackey hesitated but moved.
He turned to Isabella and Jason. “Shut the fuck up!” he barked, and they fell silent.
His hand flew up—so fast I didn’t have time to react. Thick, dexterous fingers wrapped around my throat, applying pressure.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, and my skin flushed with heat. The aggression from him caused every muscle in my body to lock up.
I couldn’t do anything as he dragged me across the floor, further into the house. He shoved me into a chair in the middle of the floor. His grip got tighter, his blunt fingernails digging into my skin.
My head was spinning from the loss of oxygen, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me gasp for air.
I raised my chin.
His grip tightened even more.
I pushed air through my nose.
His lips were close enough to kiss—or sink my teeth into—when he spoke. He smelled like soap and his skin.
“You don’t pull a gun on a dangerous man unless you're prepared to use it,” his voice was hard. He said it like he was trying to teach me something I didn’t already know.
He loosened his grip around my neck, finally letting me breathe a little.
Letting me respond.
I met his gaze as I spoke. “I would’ve shot you if it meant saving them,” I snapped. “The only reason I didn’t was because I knew your men were here. It was a losing situation.”
Saint looked at me like I had just told him the world was flat.
"We’re old friends, Aria," he said. There was something in his voice that let me know he was toying with me, but he might also have been hurt by my words.
He rubbed his jaw.
"You would kill me?"
“Yes,” I answered without missing a beat. “But that’s not possible now. Let’s move forward. I’ll give you the money that was stolen—with interest.”
“No,” he replied. "It’s not about the money. It’s the principle. You’re part of this world, Aria. You know that. What would your father have done if someone stole from him?"
I frowned. “I was part of this world. Emphasis on was. And everyone that worked for my father was loyal to him. They ate as well as he did, so they had no reason to steal from him,” I spat out. “Don’t compare him to the sociopath that spit you out.”
Saint’s anger showed in the tick of his jaw. His voice rose. “Enough talk,” he snarled. “They have to die, Aria.”
His body language and tone had shifted. I’d obviously hit a nerve. I guess he was not a fan of hearing the truth about his father.
Predictably, Jason and Isabella got loud again, begging and screaming.
“Please! Don’t—please… please. Don’t kill us!”
Isabella’s cries were high-pitched as she begged for mercy, her hands shaking as she reached out toward him.
Hearing her beg and cry, sounding so broken, was unbearable. It felt like a knife being twisted in my chest.
Her begging didn’t faze Saint at all. It was nothing more than background noise. His eyes only momentarily flicked to Jason and Isabella when their screams got too loud before he returned his attention to me.
"Didn't I say shut the fuck up,” he gritted between his teeth.
They fell silent again.
I needed time.
“You’re your father’s errand boy. Shouldn’t you call him and ask him what you can and can’t do? Can you turn down my money without his permission?” I blurted out, stalling, trying to think of how to get them out of this alive. Maybe my cousin would show up in time to save us all if I gave him enough time. “You do whatever he says, don’t you? Like a good little boy.”
Saint threw his head back and laughed, but it was devoid of humor. He stood up to his full height, finally releasing me, his grip on my neck fully gone.
"That won’t work on me, Aria."
I shifted my approach, desperation creeping in.
"What will it take to let us go? Remember, I tried to save you once. You owe me."
He didn’t answer right away. He looked like he was contemplating, then suddenly, his eyes went dark.
An unnatural smile spread across his face.
My blood stalled in my veins because I knew, deep down, that what was about to come out of his mouth would be heavy.
“Marry me,” he said.
It took a moment for the words to sink in. Marry him.
My brain short-circuited, and I forgot why we were there. Forgot my friends' lives were on the line.
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t think. My response was automatic.
“Fuck no,” I spat, the words coming out hard and harsh.