Page 71 of Godless Saints

The phone was already in my hand.

You back?

Deleted.

Tell me when you’re back.

Sent.

No answer.

Did I hurt you?

Deleted.

Keep running, prince. I’m not done with you.

I paced like a caged animal, fingers flexing, nails biting into my palms. I wanted to chase him down those corridors. Drag him back by the throat.

Walking away from him physically hurt. I slammed my fist into the wall. Knuckles screamed. Pain flared hot up my arm. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

I stepped under scalding water until it ran cold. Blood. Sweat. All of it circling the drain. Forehead against the tiles. Why wear my ring if he wanted nothing to do with me? I scrubbed harder. Nails dug into my own skin until it bled. It didn’t help.

I stepped out. Water dripped down my chest. Caught my reflection, red scratches down my shoulders and back, bite marks on my neck, one on my collarbone still dark and fresh.

I touched it. Moon’s mouth. The way he bit down hard when he came the second time.

My cock twitched again. Look what you did to me, prince. The smirk felt hollow. “It was just sex.” Yet he’d gotten jealous over Clare, begged me to fuck him, and now he was crawling back to Zara.

That shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

I dressed in fresh clothes. Black shirt. Dark jeans. Clean skin. The room still smelled like him. Couldn’t stay. I’d end up going after him. My hand closed around the door handle. Metal groaned under my grip.

Fuck, I wanted to call Misha. I forced myself to let go. The violence in my chest didn’t fade. It grew sharper. Hungrier. Meaner.

The common room reeked of spilled whiskey, wet stone, and stale smoke. Low stone arches. Scarred tables pushed against the walls. Fall break had cleared out most of the Court. The ones left were loud, feral, looking for blood.

I sat in the back corner, jaw tight, body still buzzing from Moon. I downed the rest of my whiskey and signaled for another. Aleksei sat down beside me, eyes sharp.

“You should be careful.”

“With the whiskey?” I asked evenly.

“With my brother.” Aleksei leaned in. “You’re putting Misha between you, Aster, and Carrick. That’s a stupid fucking place to put him, Ashbourne.”

I flashed a lazy, half-drunk smile. “Misha offered.”

Aleksei’s jaw flexed. “Misha would put a bullet in a king for less. Grandfather’s been watching him like a hawk. One more misstep…” He let the threat hang.

I paused, glass halfway to my mouth. “What the fuck happened?”

Aleksei stared at me, unblinking. “You don’t even know. He’s your best friend, Cillian, and you drag him into every reckless fucking thing you do without knowing he’s already skating on thin ice with the old man. Wake the fuck up.”

I set the glass down hard. Chest tighter. “I didn’t—”

“No. You didn’t.” Aleksei became pure Bratva ice. “Because right now all you see is Moon. Everything else is noise. Stop using my brother as a pawn in your little game. I’m not stupid. You have no intention of using that Writ. You’ll burn through our Favors, earn yourself a Blood Mark by the end of year one, and still hand Aster the advantage on a silver platter.”

I rolled my neck, staring at my split knuckles.