Page 47 of Godless Saints

Cillian.

His name surfaced.

Fuck.

Bag still back there with Declan.

“Ashbourne took the Blood Writ on you. Day one.”

My foot stopped mid-step. Day one. Saint Lucia. The flowers. The gallery floor. All of it under a Blood Writ.

“Liar,” I said evenly.

Declan grinned. “Ask him.”

I spun toward him. Stomach clenched so hard I nearly gagged. Declan crossed his arms and scoffed.

“Oh, fuck me,” he said. “Don’t tell me you actually like him.”

Vision flashed white. I let rage flood.

“Ashbourne flirts with you for points,” Declan said, stepping closer, “and you spread your legs like a good little performance.”

Too caught in the words. He was already on me.

His arm hooked around my neck, spinning me as he yanked me back. My back slammed into his chest. His forearm crushed under my jaw, snapping my head back and cutting off my air. I thrashed, shoulders jerking, legs kicking, but nothing worked. His other arm trapped mine against my ribs, killing the next swing. I bucked and twisted, heel scraping his shin, but he only crushed me tighter.

I clawed his sleeve, nails finding the seam, and twisted hard. He hissed, cursed. His grip loosened just enough. I wrenched my shoulder down, slipped under his arm, and shoved away with everything I had left.

My back hit the wall. I took three quick steps sideways, body coiled and ready to run if he moved again. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Pain throbbed beneath my jaw and along my neck with every heartbeat.

His blood marked his lower lip now. Mine tasted like copper.

We stared at each other. His smile came back first. Naturally.

“Knew there was something under all that polish.”

My breath dragged in rough. Once. Twice. I forced it even.

“Touch me again,” I said, “and the consequences will follow you far beyond these walls. The Moon name doesn’t need fists. We end legacies with one call.”

Declan wiped the blood from his mouth with his thumb, staring at the red smear for a second.

“Oh?” His voice dropped, amused. “So the perfect little Aster prince wants to play big boy games now? Not just schoolyard bullying?”

He took one step back, eyes gleaming with promise. “Fine. I’ll remember that… Enjoy Ashbourne while he’s sentimental,” Declan sneered, wiping the last of the blood from his lip. “That shit never lasts. And when it ends… I’ll be right there to finish what he started.”

I stayed pressed against the wall, body screaming, legs tense and ready to sprint, pain throbbing hot under my jaw and down my neck as I watched him retreat. I picked up my bag without taking my eyes off him.

“See you soon, Moon.” He stepped aside. Not because he had lost. Because this was a warning, and men like Declan loved saving violence for an audience.

I walked past him.

Controlled pace. Straight spine. A painful lump rose in my throat, and I made it around the corner before my stride broke. Only when I turned the corner did my fingers fly to my throat.

The marks on my throat burned. The skin felt raw and swollen under my fingers. Every heartbeat sent sharp pain pulsing through the bruises Declan had left under my jaw.

I stopped beside the narrow window and forced my eyes to the glass. Red finger marks stared back. Slight swelling near the hinge of my jaw. Ugly. Real.