Page 115 of Savage Saint

We don’t knock. The club's cargo van hits the door at full speed, and metal screams. It buckles inward with a violent crash, ripping from one side of the track as the van barrels through and brakes hard inside.

We're moving before it completely stops.

Doors fly open. Boots hit the concrete. Weapons are up.

Music blasts from somewhere deep inside, loud enough to hide the sound of our entrance for no more than thirty seconds. Then a woman screams, and I could give a fuck.

I’m running toward the sound. Kaos, Rizos, and Onyx spread behind me while the other brothers clear the first floor. There are set lights everywhere. Cameras and cables running across concrete, fake walls, and cheap sets built into different sections of the warehouse.

There’s a bedroom, office, and living room. Places assigned to look real through a camera lens, and nowhere else.

Another scream comes from upstairs, and I take them three at a time.

“Genesis,” I yell out as a door flies open. Ahead of me is a half-naked woman; she stumbles into the hallway. Not Pocket Doc. Relief and rage hit me at once. “Get downstairs.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, and I keep moving. Kick in every door in my path until I reach the last two. One is partially open with rust on the knob; the other has a large purple scratch on it.

Not a marker. Like someone ran an object across it and left the stain behind.

I check the unlocked one first. Someone is hurt, if the blood marks on the floor are anything to go by.

I kick it open the rest of the way, and Kirill Volkov is sitting against the wall on the other side of the room. Alone. His white shirt is covered in his life’s essence.

His nose is crooked and swollen, dried red smeared beneath it and across his mouth. One hand presses against his side, where the handle of a pair of scissors sticks out from between his fingers.

For the first time since walking into the building, I breathe.

Not because Genesis is safe, but because she fought. My fucking girl fought.

Kirill looks up at me and laughs. The sound comes out wet. “She's vicious.”

“Where is she?” I close the door behind me.

“Your little nurse?”

“My patience is limited.” My steps are slow, no gun raised. Don’t need one.

“She broke my fucking nose, Saint. It didn’t need to be this way.”

Pride cuts straight through the terror sitting on my chest. None of this blood is hers. “And you should’ve done your homework, Volkov. Some men can be bought; I’m not one of them.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“And the scissors?” I ask instead, ignoring the taunt. He earned every second of pain; I won’t give him an ounce of empathy.

He gives me a bloody smile. “Her fault, too.”

“I see.” Dragging a chair across the floor, I sit directly across from him. Kirill watches me. I watch him. “Where’s Genesis?”

“She got away from me.”

“Try again.”

“It’s the fucking truth. She smashed a light into my face, stabbed me, and ran.”

Drop your weight.

Turn.