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She can touch me with her hands, but I won’t let her experience what it’s like to feel my soul. “Who said I was joking?”
She pauses. “I can’t imagine anyone you would have to kill.”
“A lot of people,” I answer her, tightening my belt.
“Well, they must be bad…”
I laugh, my head tipping back until I’m focused on the ceiling. “No, Saint. They’re not all bad. Because when Hector needs someone to do the shit he can’t trust anyone else to do, he calls a Vitiosis, you know why?”
Her eyes blink up at me and I feel a pang of guilt for unloading on her. “Because we don’t give a fuck if the person on the receiving end of our nine is good or bad. It’s just simply what we do.”
She gulps. Pretty sure she doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t either. “What about Nate?”
“Same, only different,” I say. “The first thing you have to understand is that we are not good people. We’re not redeemable. You either live with us, demons and all, or you don’t.”
“And Eli?” She turns all the way to me now, tucking her leg underneath her ass.
“He’s a Rebelis. He does everything he wants. He also stirs mischief, trouble. He antagonizes our enemies.”
“Why would you do that?” I’m reminded that not only is she not part of this world, but not the one out there either. Things work differently in her head.
“Because it makes them angry. Everything is… heightened.”
“Games,” she whispers, and I smirk.
The limo stops, and I gesture out the window. “We have to pick up Bishop. Come in.”
She pauses, chewing on her lip while her eyes swing up to the house.
I grip my fingers around her chin, forcing her eyes back to mine. “You don’t want to talk to him yet, that’s fine. He won’t push you. When you’re ready, he’s there.”
“It’s fine,” she exhales. “I guess it’s going to happen.”
I still, whatever the fuck is left of my heart beats a little in my chest, the most it has ever done. “Come on.”
She pushes the door and steps outside. I’m still straightening my jeans when we’re walking up to the front of the house.
She stops just short of the stairs.
“Saint…” I turn over my shoulder. She’s staring up at the house, her shoulders rigid. I backtrack, reaching for her hand. “I can drop you home first if you’re tired.”
She shakes her head. “No. I slept on the plane to get back into our time zone.” She brings her eyes to mine and smiles. “I think I want to talk to him.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You sure? Right now?”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yes.”
Fuck.
I wrap my fingers around hers, but she grabs on to my pinky finger instead. I leave it there while guiding her up the stairs and to the front door. The Hayes family and their over-the-top glass houses. I shove open the front door and gesture her inside. She takes in the décor, her eyes flying around in amazement. The family photography, the art, the crystal chandelier, even the Calacatta marble floor. She’s taking in everything, and a little voice in the back of my head is worried about that.
Bishop’s walking straight for Saint when he comes into the foyer. I release her. It’ll probably be the first time she’s going to see a little bit of the grumpy Bishop.
He scoops her up by the legs and she squeals as he tosses her over his shoulder. “You ever fucking do that shit again.”
She giggles—fucking giggles—and he slowly places her back to the floor. I watch as a silent conversation happens between them. His eyes on hers, her small smile. “She’s not okay. About the same as you.”
“Why did she need you?” Bishop asks the question we’ve been trying to figure out since we knew she was flying to New Zealand.
I watch her face carefully. Saint can’t lie for shit. She shakes her head. “Not right now.”
“What does that fucking mean?” I snap, stepping closer to her. “What do you fucking mean?”
She looks at me. “I’m sorry, okay! To both of you, but I can’t say right now.”
Bishop’s jaw tenses, and I know he’s pissed about it as much as I am. We’re the ones who keep the secrets. We’re the ones who are always steps ahead. Not them.
She steps away from us. “Where’s Hector?”
Saint
There are echoes that live within these walls, and they whisper all of the secrets the Hayes family keep locked away.
Brantley glances down the hallway behind the staircase, before coming back to me. “We’ll take you.” Truthfully, I probably should have gone straight home. I don’t know if I’m running on fumes or adrenaline, but I feel the need to see Hector. For one reason, but the other possibilities could be a bonus, too.
Bishop stares at Brantley, and I feel the shift of whatever is happening begin to move between them. They’re hiding something from me. I can sense the tightness in the air.
