CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MASON
“Is there anything you need?” Saint asks as he walks into the house with my body firmly wrapped around him.
He hasn’t let me go since the moment we left that club.
And God, I hate that he’s doing this for me. That I didn’t get to pick up the pieces of myself or dissociate from what had happened to me in that room.
He picked me up without hesitation and brought me home. He ended a business deal because of me.
My body trembles from the pain of the nicks on my back. The memory of Prince’s cold blade, pressing into the heat of my skin, burns closer to the surface. My stomach twists in discomfort from Saint’s touch against my skin.
I cannot forget why I am here.
I cannot forget that in a matter of hours, I’d be free.
That I’d pack my bags and leave all of this behind.
That I’m not here for Saint, but for myself. That the man holding me close to his chest isn’t any different from every other man I have encountered in my life.
Light floods into the dark space of the kitchen. He sets me down on both feet and places my hands on the polished counter. “Stay still.” He says.
My body trembles with a mix of pain and fear, but I remain still because he asked me to. Every part of me fights this. I don’t want him touching my skin. I don’t want him tainting my soul.
He rips my clothes off my back and sets a first-aid box beside me. “This will hurt.” He says.
I groan when the burning liquid lands all over my skin, and my fingers clench against the counter.
My gaze snaps to the transparent windows and the large trees lining the driveway.
His hand moves along my skin in careful strokes as he cleans up the gore and blood.
I don’t take my eyes off the trees. I don’t let the feel of his skin against mine sink deep enough to scar.
“You’ll be fine.” He says after a while. He cleans up the cotton wool soaked in my blood and puts my tattered t-shirt in the dumpster before he returns the first aid box to the top drawer in the kitchen cabinet.
I get off the counter and head toward the staircase. The stairs creak under my weight as I venture into the dark halls, wincing from the pain. Saint catches up with me in long, purposeful strides, cutting me off before I can pass the bedroom door.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“I shouldn’t have left you.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have changed a thing.” I pinch my lips together, spine stiff, eyes resting on nothing in the hall.
“I wouldn’t have let them take you.” His jaw set, his shoulders pushing back.
An impatient snort escapes me. “All of this wouldn’t have happened if you had just left me alone.” My eyes are dull, almost lifeless. “I was humiliated again!” My body feels broken. My skin tightens with embarrassment as a lone tear escapes my eyes.
“Mason…” He tries to touch me, but I flinch away.
“I’m fine.” I wipe away my tears and stride into my room. He doesn’t bother following me. I grip the door handle without looking back and slam it in once I’ve gotten inside. I lean against the wooden frame and slide down to the floor, pulling my knees close to my chest.
My thoughts bounce around with memories. The things I have had to do to survive. The way I have had to live my life. In mind-crippling fear. Without ever knowing whether all of this will be over. That I’d finally be free.
And now this.
A man who sees the part of me I’ve hated and doesn’t demonize it.
A man whom I shouldn’t even look twice at, because being here is a transaction for my freedom.
I get on my feet and turn around, heading downstairs to the kitchen.
Hopefully, Saint’s already in his room, so I don’t have to explain why I’m here.
I grip the drawers in the kitchen cabinet, opening them one by one.
Frustration bubbles across my skin. My eyes narrow, focus intent.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes tight. I haven’t found what I’m looking for.
I open the top cabinet, searching through the dark space. Nothing. There’s nothing here. Where does he fucking keep it? My eyes finally land on what I’m looking for. Hidden beside a pile of washed dishes. My fingers wrap around it as I hold it up to my face.
“Everything okay?” I jump at the sound of Bernard’s voice. I hide the lighter behind me, regarding Bernard with a forced smile.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I take a step back and place the lighter on the sink. “I just wanted to get a drink.”
“Hmm. If there’s anything you need, tell me.”
“Thanks. I have it all sorted out.” My face tightens, and I bite the inside of my cheek. I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t, so I circle the counter and hurry toward the stairs without looking back.
SAINT
My eyes glance up the stairs, and I take in Mason.
He has the straps of his duffel bag firmly wrapped around his hands.
My lips part, my heartbeat slowing. My mouth slackens, and my body suddenly goes still at his presence.
I still remember what happened between us last night. I’m not sure if I’ll ever forget.
Not just the conversation we had in the alley. But having to carry him all the way to the car and treat his injuries.
I have never done this for any man. And the fact that I let that happen terrifies me.
“Good morning.” He says with a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m okay.” He sighs.
“Bernard’s already waiting at the car. We should go.” I turn on my heel, but what he says stops me in my tracks.
“You can’t call off the deal because of me.” He murmurs. I inhale sharply and face him. His eyes wander around the living room.
“Get to the car,” I tell him and march out of the house.
It doesn’t take long, and he joins us outside, handing his bag to Bernard. As Bernard circles the car, a bullet shatters the windshield, and the air charges with the explosive heat of violence. My eyes fly around the forest around us as I reach for my gun.
“Get behind me, Mason,” I command.
“Do not move.” A voice echoes in the forest. Holding out my arms steadily, I push Mason behind me before five men appear around us, guns held forward, faces hidden behind black balaclava masks.
“Put your gun down, son. You’re outnumbered.” I whip around at the sound of the voice. My heart shatters when my eyes rest on the man appearing from the forest. He’s in a long black tailcoat jacket and a black tailored suit.
“Cyrus?”
“Argh.” The loud bang shatters through the air, and my gaze snaps to Bernard. He’s crumpled to the gravel, hands splayed over his bleeding leg, gun at his side.
“Take them. Both of them.” Cyrus commands his soldiers. His light green eyes settle on me, and his lips hike into a euphoric smile.
Before I can do anything, the soldier closest to him closes the gap between us, boot stomping on the gravel. He pulls his arm back, slamming his gun into my temple. My ears ring, pain shredding my bones. Then he slams again and again until I lose my balance and collapse against the gravel.
Darkness floods in so quickly, even though every part of me tries to fight it. And the last thing I see is Mason buckling beside me. Then the shadows take me with them.