Page 90 of Godless Saints

I waited, silent.

Sawyer exhaled sharply. “I shouldn’t have put the Blood Writ on you. That was fucked. Even for me. I saw an opportunity and I—”

“You put the Writ on me?”

I closed the distance. Chest to chest. I pushed him. Sawyer stumbled back and landed on his ass.

He sat stunned, then pushed up slowly, brushing dirt off his coat with shaking hands.

“Hyung… I’m sorry,” he said quieter. “I really am.”

I pressed my lips flat.

“I know you’re sorry.”

I let him have that second. Then I stepped back. Expression hard. “That doesn’t mean I trust you.”

Sawyer put a Blood Writ on me. The same Sawyer who called me Hyung. The same Sawyer who stood between me and Cillian in the cathedral.

“Hyung—”

“No.” I cut him off. “Not right now. You put a Writ on me. You aimed a loaded gun at my life and pulled the trigger because it felt interesting. So forgive me if I don’t fall at your feet just because you suddenly feel bad about it.”

Sawyer’s mouth opened. “After Seamus I swore I wouldn’t—”

I slammed my hand over his mouth. Hard.

“Shut the fuck up,” I hissed. “Are you stupid? Don’t say his name out loud.”

His eyes went wide against my palm. I held it there a second longer, heart slamming, before I dropped my hand. I stayed silent for a moment, the cold wind cutting across my face. My pulse was still hammering.

Fuck. He was still my best friend. The same chaotic psycho who would burn everything for me and sometimes light me on fire too. He did this shit at Harvard too.

I exhaled slowly.

“…It’s done,” I said quietly. “Writ or not, Cillian would have kissed me in that room, anyway. There was no avoiding that. Not in any version of this.”

Sawyer looked wrecked. “Still… I’m sorry.”

I didn’t answer. I stared down the empty drive where Cillian had disappeared, the roar of his motorcycle long gone.

Tomorrow was the Winter Ball. Cillian had just kissed me in front of Aster. Sawyer had admitted he put the Blood Writ on me. Did Cillian know? Secrets. Lies. Constant performance. This was only going to get so much worse.

CHAPTER 21

CILLIAN

Thud. The baseball slammed the ceiling, dropped back into my palm like it wanted to bruise me.

I shouldn’t have left him.

I clenched the baseball harder, seams biting into my palm like punishment. Fuck. I didn’t regret the kiss. Not for one second. He was mine. He’d been mine since Saint Lucia. But the way he pushed me away after—

My jaw locked. The ball dug deeper.

I could walk away from the family. From the violence. From the name that made them spit trash and whore.

Never wanted much before. Just let the fists talk. Then Moon. Now all I see is him. Dark-haired kids with his eyes.