CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SAINT
Acold rush scatters across my skin as Cyrus’s soldier throws a bucket of liquid ice on me, jolting me from the endless dark depths. Knife-sharp cold rivulets roll over my skin. I shake my head and laugh, looking up at the tall, brown-skinned man towering before me.
Behind me, my hands are bound by chains. My drowsy eyes find Cyrus, and he chuckles, waving his hand to dismiss the soldiers positioned at the four corners of the room. Pain twists sharply across my face, burning and blistering deeply.
“Why did you torture him?” I demand, struggling with the chains holding me still. Wrath ravages my voice. “You are angry with me. Not him! He didn’t kill your son. I did!” Heat rushes violently to my throat. My chest rises hard with every furious breath, nostrils flaring as veins cord in my neck.
“He would have turned forty in two days. He would have had a family. But you took that away from me. My only child!” His voice comes out in a guttural roar. His fists clench, veins straining against his arms. His words rip something in me open.
I never forgot what I did.
I never stopped thinking about that night, even though I pushed all of it away. But seeing Cyrus brought it all back. And I hate myself for what I did. I hate that I didn’t stand up to my father. That I didn’t protect my first kiss. I let him die.
But I’ll never admit that.
“I still have the shell of the bullet.” A pained expression crosses my face as I avoid Cyrus’s ardent gaze. My stomach knots with regret. I wish I could go back to that night. I would have done something to protect him. Anything.
“And that’s supposed to make it all better.” He paces the floor, spittle building up at the corners of his mouth. He cracks his knuckles and barrels toward me, slamming his tight fist against my jaw. He screams, voice shaking with violence at every bite of his skin against my cheeks.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
The hot, thick taste of blood lingers on my tongue. My neck snaps upward, and my eyes meet the warping ceiling. A broken laugh scrapes out of my lungs, blood and saliva leaking from my mouth.
“What I did was unforgivable,” I murmur under my labored breath. “And I don’t deserve your mercy. I deserve your wrath. But please don’t hurt Mason. I beg you.” Every muscle in my body locks tight.
“You think I care about him or your emotions for him. You took my son! I’ll take him from you since he’s clearly so important.”
My pulse heightens, throat tasting of rust as I finally take him in.
“Take my father instead.” I maunder, and he pauses in front of me.
Shock crosses his features as he steps closer, seconds away from putting his fist through my face.
“He gave the order. Your son would have been here if my father hadn’t allowed his blind hatred for people like me to influence his actions.
” I admit, giving a tight smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
A part of me accepts the truth about myself as those words leave my lips, even though it makes me uncomfortable.
It makes me accept the part I played in his son’s destruction.
“I thought the King code was to protect family, no matter what.”
It was.
I learned that from my grandfather a long time ago.
Protect family and legacy, no matter the cost.
Cyrus and his son used to be family, but when it came down to choosing them, my father chose his hatred for love over him. Over his right-hand man. Over the man who had stayed by his side until the very moment he became a King.
He didn’t send them away. He didn’t show any mercy. He gave me a gun, and I used it.
I killed him.
Raw regret punches holes into my lungs, and my breathing turns harsh and uneven.
“I never slept for months.” My jaw clenches. “I had nightmares. My cousin made me see a therapist without my father’s consent. I tried not to move on from him. I tried. I tried.”
“But you did. You forgot about him. You lived your fucking life like he never existed. Went to college, succeeded in your father’s business.
You’re months away from being the successor to the Black Viper Syndicate.
And he gets nothing but a fucking grave.
” At the gory declaration of every word, he draws closer to me until he’s closed the gap between us one more time.
His fingers fasten around my throat, while he lifts his clenched fist in mid-air.
I prepare for the hit, but I don’t break eye contact.
I look him in the eyes because I’m no longer running from his death.
I have to face the consequences of what I did. What it cost me. What it cost Cyrus.
But he doesn’t strike me. His tight fist hangs in mid-air, trembling violently.
“I hope he forgives me for what I did. I hope you forgive me, too, even though I don’t deserve it.” I whisper. A tear slides down my cheeks, and he unhands me, retreating to the exit.
He signals his soldiers outside the torture room, and they flood inside, circling me like hungry wolves.
“Not them. Not them.” I drawl. “You.”
I wanted to feel his destructiveness against my skin.
I wanted him to take out his need for vengeance on me.
Not his soldiers, but him. Only him.
But he doesn’t. The only thing I get from him is the jaded stare in his eyes as he leaves me with his soldiers.
The first punch cracks across my jaw, and my neck snaps back.
Before I can steady myself, a gloved fist buries into my ribs brutally, cutting the air out of my lungs.
Another soldier shoves me forward, slamming his boot into my stomach repeatedly.
Each hit bruises my skin, and my body curls inward from the pain.
As I look up at the soldier looming above me, his boot rains down on me.
“Saint. Saint.”
I grunt, rolling over as I take in Mason.
He’s lying on the floor just like me. The first thing I notice is the scar on his belly.
A scar his uncle had given him. My heart squeezes with resentment.
“I’m not sure how long it’s been.” He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
He breathes shallowly. Congealed blood pools beneath him.
He’s lost a lot of blood from his injuries.
“Did they take you again?”
“No, I haven’t seen them for a while now.” He whispers, breaking eye contact. “You’ve been unconscious for days.”
How do I keep coming back? How did I keep surviving?
Loneliness reeks through me relentlessly accompanied with the violent bite of fear on my skin. A sharp breath escapes me as the walls of the prison close in on me. Every muscle in my body aches with agonizing pain. I’m not letting him give up hope.
I gave up hope on Cyrus’s son. I didn’t fight to keep him alive. I put a bullet in his head.
I won’t lose Mason without a fight.
Lethal silence settles between us. He’s a few inches away from me. All it’ll take to wrap myself in his velvet warmth is just three wrenching steps. But I can’t. No matter how much my body wants to feel something else, I can’t.
Because touching him means I’m discarding everything I have ever known.
It means I’m weak.
It means I’m sick.
And I have never felt that way in a long time. I have never wanted to crawl out of my own skin because I have always compartmentalized my feelings. Kept them in boxes.
Mason ruined everything in just one fucking moment.
And I blame this thing inside me.
I blame myself for wanting what’s wrong.
And even as I lie on this cold concrete floor, every part of my inside burns with a blazing need to touch him.
But if I do, I’ll want more.
And I’m not supposed to want or feel or attach myself to anything outside of a damn contract.
The contract keeps everything controlled. It keeps the truth about myself at arm’s length.
“Mason.” My voice trembles with raw, searing need. “Mason!” Panic surges through my voice when he doesn’t answer the second time.
I move through the lacerating pain and close the gap between us. I crouch beside him and lie on my back, placing my hand around his skin.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m here now, little devil.”
A soft whimper escapes him, and his eyes snap open in the indistinct darkness.
He doesn’t utter a word, even as my heart slams furiously against my chest. What he does amazes me.
He draws closer, sliding his hand over my chest carefully.
He lifts his head and places it against my chest, and that’s all it takes for my body to relax.
To forget the blackened pain coursing through my veins.
Everything in me screams to end this. But running away from this comfort will rip us apart even before Cyrus’s soldiers do, and if this is the last memory I’ll have, I want it to be with the man I can’t stop obsessing over.
Boots thunder down the corridor. My eyes snap to the entrance, muscles coiling as I prepare myself for another round of torture.
Not just that, but to fight them from taking Mason.
He’s still wrapped around the heat of my body.
We have been like this for days. I’m not even sure how long it’s been.
But after that night, I haven’t let him go.
Bullets go off, and the lock snaps open. The rusted hinges screech, jolting Mason from his sleep. His eyes shine with panic and he breathes heavily.
It’s not Cyrus’s men.
These are entirely different people.
I cup his face with my large steady hands and look at him, scared face and all. “Stop. You are fine, we are safe.”
“Boss, we have them secured.” The lead commander of the operation says to his walkie-talkie.
A soldier moves toward me with giant plier pinchers.
“Get to him first!” I order, and he moves towards Mason, who’s on the verge of passing out.
The chain snaps free, then the soldier hurries toward me.
He puts the pinchers around the chain and squeezes hard.
The chains come off, and I regain my footing.
A bloodcurdling scream tears out of his throat as I lift him onto my chest. His body curls inward as his fingers splay across my skin.
“We are safe,” I whisper to him.
As I turn on my heel, Prince and Virgil enter the space. “He needs medical attention,” I yell at them.
“There’s a car waiting outside. I’ll call the hospital ahead of time.” Prince explains.
I don’t regard Virgil. I push past them and follow the dark hallway, taking the staircase. The ground shakes beneath my lacerated feet. Prince, Virgil, and the soldiers follow behind me.
I kick the door open, and the dark forest comes alive around me. The raw evening breeze snaps across my skin. My brows arch sharply as I regard my cousin. He stands beside the Range Rover with Bernard, who has his left thigh bandaged up.
“I need you to get him to the hospital.” I tell Bernard and hand Mason over to him.”
“Yes, sir. Go with him, Syn.”
“Of course, brother. We’ll meet at the hospital.” Syn says and circles over to the driver’s seat.
I stand and watch as the car zooms off until it disappears down the unpaved drive.
“Put this on.” Virgil tosses a pair of shorts to me. I grunt as it hits me, and I step into it hurriedly. “How the fuck did you get into this? You’ve been gone for almost two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” My head pounds and spins, but I plant my feet firmer on the ground.
“Thanks to Prince and your driver, Bernard. We tracked you down.” Virgil utters.
“I…” I lift my hand to my head.
“Saint, everything okay?” Virgil’s thick voice drowns out as if I’m submerged in water. Pain shatters at the back of my head as I collapse against the gravel floor. The edges of my vision smear into darkness as the voices of Prince and Virgil dull into a distant echo before everything vanishes.