Page 127 of Hostile Saint

I looked to the door again. “Do you know what’s wrong with me?”

“Not a goddamn thing.”

“Lynx—”

“We don’t know shit yet. Feel me?”

I felt him. I felt he was scared. Not of me but… for me.

He added, “You healed in record speed, who cares?”

Precipitously, my heart raced to new levels again as so many things suddenly became clear. “I-I thought it was Elle’s herbs.”

“Huh? It was.”

Lynx lying again had me swiftly becoming irritated. “Lynx, you yourself called me Swiss Cheese.”

“Doesn’t prove shit.”

I remembered… “You said I died!”

He growled, “You’re sittin’ here, ain’tcha?”

His denial was rapidly grating my exposed nerves. “I died three times!”

“But you made it!”

I abruptly stood and sarcastically asked, “Why? Was the vet a miracle worker?”

He looked away.

I sneered, “I’m not a saint. I’m a fucking freak.”

Before I knew what was happening, Lynx was roaring in my face, “You’re my fucking boy! You’re my fucking Saint!”

Charlie was on his paws, growling.

Lynx turned on him. “You. Lay. The. Fuck. Down.”

Charlie followed the demand.

Lynx poked my chest. “This heart is what led me to this very moment. It. Is. Pure.”

“But the brothers!” I was terrified I’d change and be like them. “So mean!”

He gritted his teeth. “Kid, I swear you are nothing like them. Even the fucking dog knows it. You have to trust my gut on this. I told you we needed to find out why those torturing bastards hated you so much. I think this is it. I believe those demented fucks know you and Lace are better than them, altered or not.”

When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “Think about it. According to what you’ve said, and what your dad has written, they started showing signs at such a young age. Plus, so many of your injuries are exactly like what Lacey’s mom claimed was happening to the kids.” He grabbed my scarred palm and pointed. “This is how your mom wasn’t found. Lacey’s mom burned her hand to destroy some tracking device. Those so-called brothers of yours must’ve witnessed things. It’s like they were doing their own experiments, using you and Lace as their own goddamn guinea pigs.”

As I had begun to suspect, there it was.

The brothers had been mimicking the deranged scientists.

They had been mimicking rape, as they had seen and experienced. Asphyxiation during the rituals… they had tortured Lace with it before I intervened.

Lynx sounded sick to his stomach when he said, “The torture you suffered, Pup,” he gestured down, “I think they were imitating—Jesus. H. Christ. Your father’s notes claimed Sail controlled reproduction.”

Instantly, I remembered them slicing my testicles, and wanted to shiver at the memory, but my heart cracked as I realized I wasn’t the only one…