Page 49 of Godless Saints

Zara released me. “I’ll explore the options. But this version of you, brawls in corridors, fresh bruises, Thorn Court rumors, is becoming a liability, Hyun. Dangerous for both our names.”

I nodded once. “Cillian and I are done. Like I said.”

The lie scraped my throat raw. Something in my chest eased, anyway. Even my fake girlfriend saw the cracks.

Zara studied me for a long moment, then stepped back. “Good. I’m not letting Thorn Court claim any more Favor. We are not done. Fix your face, stay out of the spotlight, and let Vivienne help spin this if she can. I’ll find a way to salvage our arrangement, provided you stop dragging both our names through the mud.”

I watched her walk away.

The arrangement was cracking.

So was I.

CHAPTER 12

MOON

The collar wouldn’t sit right. Every time I moved, the fabric dragged across the marks. I looked exactly like what I was—someone who had been handled.

The small prep room smelled of powder and citrus. Harsh mirrors lined one wall. The door opened behind me. Zara and Vivienne slipped in. Zara carried a small black makeup bag. Vivienne had her arms crossed, already assessing the damage.

“Hold still,” Zara said.

“I am holding still.”

Vivienne’s reflection smiled, dry. “You are vibrating with masculine discomfort.”

“There’s paste on my face,” I said.

Zara tilted my chin and dabbed concealer over the bruises. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s just makeup.”

I hated this. Cool cream on my skin. Her fingers too close to where Declan had gripped. The way I needed them to do it.

“I don’t understand why women do this every day.” The words scraped out. Makeup on my face. Fucking humiliating. What if someone could tell?

“We manage worse than this every single day,” Zara said, dabbing without mercy. “Suffer quietly.”

Vivienne smirked, head tilting. “Aw, listen to the big tough guy complaining about a little concealer. For once, handsome, let the women handle the real work. We’re very good at fixing messes you boys make.”

I rolled my eyes. She wasn’t wrong.

Zara worked fast. Concealer. Powder. A careful blend over the split on my lip. She smelled like citrus. Her hair was different today, waist-length knotless braids pulled into a sleek half-up style, edges laid. It looked good on her. Devastating, even.

The kind of woman I should want. Should marry. Instead my mind slid straight to Cillian. I could picture the life everyone wanted for me. I just couldn’t picture myself in it.

Great. Makeup on my face and having a full-blown crisis over a man. I was going to need a fucking drink.

“You’re going viral on The Gallery again,” Zara said. “They’re already talking. We don’t need anyone snapping pictures of those bruises and feeding the rumor mill.”

I stared at my own reflection. The bruises were disappearing under her hands. The version of me that looked like he belonged to Aster was coming back. It felt like lying to my own face.

Cillian had messaged again. Notifications still unread. I hadn’t opened them. Couldn’t. Every time his name surfaced, Declan’s voice followed. He took the Writ on you from day one.

Zara finished and stepped back. “Better.”

Vivienne tilted her head. “Almost convincing.”

I rolled my shoulders under the jacket. The fabric still felt too tight over the marks on my throat. “Let’s go.”