CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MASON
Idon’t know what time it is, but I managed to make it far on foot, hitch a ride in a bus, and get all the way to Saint’s apartment.
It’s not ideal, but it’s the only place I can be safe. Ironic that I’m coming to the one man who acknowledges this part of me, even when I hate that he does.
And I vividly recall the conversation we had in the office.
I take it back.
As I pace inside the humming elevator, my blood boils with equal parts fear and anger. Memories surge into my thoughts. I place my hand against the steel wall of the elevator, shutting my eyes, and I try to push it all back, to seal it in a box.
But it’s not working.
I still see his face.
The extremely hideous smirk on his lips.
The anger blazing in his eyes.
I pound my palm against the wall and straighten my spine, pacing like a hungry wolf as the elevator ascends to Saint’s apartment.
What if he sends me away? What if he doesn’t want to see me? I wouldn’t blame him. I made him a promise and immediately went back on my word.
My heart aches with pain, and I clutch my chest, breathing through the nausea that rises to my mouth. My legs still strain from the torture of running over ten miles before I found a bus station.
The elevator dings when I arrive at the top of the building, and my heart lurches into my throat. As I step into the dimly lit apartment. I stagger toward the open living room, placing my hand against the top of the couch to steady myself.
The amber light floods in, burning harshly against my vision. Saint appears from his study with a gun in his grip. He lowers his steady arms when he sees me. My eyes blur in and out, and my enervated knees give out. The room twirls around me as I lose my balance and fall against the tiled floor.
When the room bleeds back in, I’m lying against the soft mattress of a king-sized bed, and Saint sits on the chaise lounge at the side of the room. My gaze takes him in, and the pistol on the round table beside him. His nostrils flare as he looks at me. “What are you doing here?” He demands.
I try to sit up, but my legs still ache from the pain. I’m not sure I’d be able to walk for some days.
“You are not supposed to be here.” His voice tightens.
“I don’t know anywhere else to go.” I whisper, lying back on the bed and inhaling sharply.
“We can’t keep lying to ourselves…”
“I know what I said.” My jaw sets as I look at him.
“No.” He surges to his feet, expression scrunched with anger. I don’t look at him. I deserve whatever hateful words he’ll say to me. “You can’t come to me when it’s convenient for you.”
“I know.” I sniffle. “I ran from him.”
He pauses and looks at me, a protective armor falling over his features. “Is it your uncle?”
“He came after me. In my apartment, and he chased me.” I don’t have to tell him the entire truth, only bits of it. My lips tremble, and I clench my hands at my sides.
“Did he put his hands on you?” He closes the gap between us. One knee on the bed, his hand slides under my jaw and lifts my gaze to him.
“No, but he tried to.” I bite my lower lip as tears gather in my eyes. Silence stretches between us, so thick it can be cut with a blade. His eyes darken, red glazing over his irises.
“I’m going to kill him.” His jaw flexes, and his eyes read my features.
But it’s the feel of his skin against mine that drives through me.
I take in deep gulps of his calming scent, steadying my breathing slowly.
He regains his footing and picks up his gun from the table. “Give me his name.” He demands.
“No, Saint, there are other ways to deal with this.” I sit up and get out of bed, even though walking feels like my legs are knee-deep in a flaming hot volcano.
“No?” A sordid expression falls over his features. “Look at what he does to you. How he makes you feel.” He mutters quietly.
“Of course, he makes me angry!” I bite out, voice tight with restrained ire.
“He makes me so fucking angry that I don’t recognize who I am or my thoughts, and I hate that.
” His back is against me. I try to put my hands on his shoulder, but he doesn’t let me.
“I don’t know what world you live in, but killing someone lands you in prison, and if I ever fight back, he’d use it against me.
He’d call me a monster.” My legs almost give out when his hand slides around my waist and holds me steady.
He leans closer, so close that our lips almost meet.
“Then let me be that monster.” He gives me a dark look. “Anyone who touches you die. Kurt. That fucking guy in Genesis. Anyone. Anyone that’s not me.”
How can he make these promises to me when he knows what’s at stake? His father’s wrath. His family’s legacy. His life’s hard work. Is he willing to burn it all down for me?
I wrench myself away from him, breathing through the heavy pain in my legs. I run my fingers over my face. How can he say these things to me? He doesn’t know who I really am. The things I have been forced to do to destroy his family.
“Are you going to spend the rest of your life like this?” He demands. “Getting wrathful and putting it all away. Mason, it will take a toll on your body, and one day, you can’t handle it anymore, and you’d…”
“Then I die.” My voice is firm, driven by a need I have never acknowledged before. Silence lodges between us. Too thick. Too sharp. The only sound I hear is the ragged breathing behind me.
“You can’t say things like that.” He storms toward me and forces me to look at him. Fear blazes in the dark depths of his irises. Raw, bone-jarring fear. “You can’t say things like that.” He repeats firmly, eyes bouncing around my face.
“I hate the effect he has on me. I hate that when I’m so angry, I don’t recognize who I am. I don’t ever want to be that person.”
“What do you want right now? Tell me?”
“I don’t know.” I sputter and shake my head.
How do I explain to him that my life has been ruined?
Telling him what I truly want means that this thing between us, this feeling I’m acknowledging, will shatter before my own eyes.
“I don’t know. Just…” I close the gap between us and wrap myself in the warmth of his skin.
“My legs still hurt.” I whisper against his chest and inhale the scent of his cologne.
A scent that does something unimaginable to me.
“Let me take you somewhere.”
“Where?” I look up at him, lips pressed in a firm line.
He pulls his phone from his pocket and turns it off. “You have all of me tonight.” He smiles and tosses the phone onto the bed.
I nod and smile plainly at him.
“Stay here. Let me get a shirt.”
“Alright.” I nod and settle down. He leaves me in the heavy silence of the room. When he returns, he wears a pale blue button shirt, and his car keys are in his hands. He closes the gap between us and lifts me into his arms, carrying me bridal style.
We head to the parking lot where he parked his car, and he deposits me into the passenger’s seat carefully.
He shuts the door behind me and circles the bonnet of the car, getting into the driver’s seat.
It doesn’t take long, and the city blurs behind us.
I don’t ask him where he’s taking me. I don’t have to.
I trust this minute feeling of safety swirling in the pit of my stomach.
When we arrive at the docks, I give him a look, and he smiles as he parks the car in the corner. “Remember the night we met here. You told me you loved watching the sea when things got heavy.” His eyes gleam with honesty. “I figured maybe here would help.”
I press my lips into a thin line, and then I force a smile to put up the pretense.
I lied to him that night. Of course, I did. But knowing that he remembered that moment sends a sting of betrayal coursing through my veins. I lean forward and wrap my hand around him. “Thank you.” I press a kiss against his jaw.
“Can you walk?” He gestures his head toward the sea.
“I’m not sure.” I lean against the car seat. “I love it when you carry me.”
“You do?” His eyes soften, and I nod. “I’ll carry you all day if I have to.” He unlocks the door and walks over to mine, opening it and helping me out of the car. He crouches down and looks over his shoulder. “Come on, hop on.”
I don’t waste a second. I hop on his back, and he grunts and supports my weight against him.
He straightens up. His hand curls around my thighs to hold me steady.
We stride across the pathway, past the labyrinth of freight containers.
“Aren’t you worried about your father’s soldiers?
” I ask, hands firmly wrapped around his shoulders.
“They know not to report to anyone else except me.” He hums. “We are safe, little devil.”
He waits for the sting of my protest, but I don’t utter a word. I think maybe I’m starting to like it when he calls me that.
We walk over the gravel leading to the shore of the sea.
He sets me on my feet, and we settle on the ground next to each other.
He puts his hand around my shoulder, and he tugs me closer as the waves from the sea crash against our feet.
I snake my hand around him and lean against his chest. I hate how this night started, but I don’t want it to end.
Eventually, all of this will fall apart, and I’d regret ever giving it a chance, but I don’t want it to end.