Page 52 of Godless Saints

CHAPTER 13

CILLIAN

Answer me.

I know you’re reading these. I can see you leaving me on read.

Did they stitch you? Are you in pain?

Tell me where you are. Now.

I will find out who did this. I will carve their fucking heart out and deliver it to your door.

Answer your phone or I’ll come find you myself.

Three days. No answer. My fist slammed the bag. Chain snapped overhead. Sweat burned my eyes. Three days destroying everything that wasn’t him. He’d buried himself in Aster like the walls existed to keep me out.

They did.

Fucking annoying.

The Ivory bout went to absolute shit. Moon fenced Vesper. The bout ended the second Vesper’s blade cut his collarbone. Someone altered Marceau’s blade. Details shifted with every lying fuck, but the blood stayed bright across his collarbone. Every head in the hall snapped toward Thorn before the blood even stopped running.

Of course they blamed us.

Fair. Usually. Not this fucking time.

Ironically, Thorn got rewarded with Favor. Because nobody saw it coming. And everyone believes it was me. Moon walked to the nurse’s wing with Zara King. It fucking burned. She didn’t even love him. I never got to tell him I hadn’t touched the blade. He told me to stay away. Optics, sure, but it felt real.

He shut me out.

Two runners took my cash and came back with jack shit. I’ll remember their faces for later. Three Vesper boys lied to my guys. One of Declan’s friends stopped smiling the second my hand crushed his throat against a locker. Still no name.

Fine.

Ten more minutes and fingers started coming off.

Misha dragged me out before I put one of Vesper’s assholes through a window. I slammed the Thorn locker room door. Hinges screamed. Conversation stopped. Three Thorn boys looked over from the benches. One still had tape clenched between his teeth. Another had his shirt half off. A third froze with a glove in his hand.

“What?” I snapped.

They looked away. That settled it.

Misha sat on the far bench, elbows on his knees, already watching me like he knew this was about to become his problem. Aleksei came out of the showers in a towel, hair wet, expression blank.

“Who the fuck altered Marceau’s blade?” I asked.

Misha’s brows lifted. “Hello to you too.”

“Answer.”

Misha looked at Aleksei. He was too fucking calm. Too composed for someone standing this close to a man who wanted to put his fist through a wall. He met my eyes, the corner of his mouth curving just slightly.

“Easy, Cillian. Glare harder and you’ll break another locker.”

My hand curled into a fist.

“Probably Declan’s crew,” Misha said.