Page 71 of The Rise of Saint (The Sins of Saint 1)

I moved as fast as my high heels would let me, but a strong hand wrapped around my elbow, pulled me back, and I yelped when my body crashed into Saint’s.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Let me go,” I begged, no longer able to act like a Russo wife.

Saint’s cruel hands gripped my shoulders as he shook me, his eyes a hurricane of destruction. “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“You!” I cried. “You are what’s the matter with me. You have done nothing but hurt me ever since you forced your way into my life. You humiliated me, used me, and now this? I’m nothing but a fucking weapon for you to use to get what you want.” I tried to slam my fists against his chest, tearing at the white fabric of his shirt. “You ruined my goddamn life! I’m nothing but collateral damage to you. Nothing!” My screams echoed against the high ceiling and crashed against the concrete walls.

“Jesus, Mila. I told you to trust me. Get a goddamn grip, and fucking trust me, okay?”

“Fuck you, Saint. Fuck you and this entire mindfuck you took me on. You drag me through hell, and you can’t even give me five goddamn minutes to talk to my brother. Five fucking minutes. But no. It’s all about you. Everything is always about you, isn’t it? About what you want.” I sucked air through my teeth. “You are nothing but a selfish bastard who gets off by hurting others. A fucking monster. All of you are goddamn monsters.”

Saint let go of my arms as if my skin had burned him. Orbs of blue blazed with something vile, mean, ripples of cruel anger rolling from his broad shoulders.

He sliced through me with his piercing stare. “You say that as if I had pretended to be something else. As if I have given you a reason to think I am a good man,” he gritted out. “Did you think just because I creamed your cunt that it changed anything between us?” He took an intimidating step closer, his body a breath away from mine, and his top lip curled into a snarl. “You are nothing but a business transaction, Mila. Just a means to an end for me to get what I want. Fucking you didn’t change that.”

Every word he spoke was coated in venom, and it poisoned me little by little, my heart slowly dying inside my chest. Every bone in my body splintered, broke, my spine snapped in half. It was the most pain I had ever felt in my entire life. Not even years of abuse, dark closets, and cigarette butts against my flesh hurt as much as his words.

He grabbed my wrist, his fingers biting into my flesh. “James,” he called, “take Mila back to the Empress immediately.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with disdain. “I have no use for her here anymore.”

It was like a slap to my face. A searing whip against my cheek. Not even the lashes of his belt left me with such anguish. My heart no longer beat, and my pulse no longer raced. There was only ice left inside me—hard, agonizing ice as cold as the glare in his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything but hatred for the man who stood before me. Instead, I felt pain. The gut-wrenching pain of a heart that had been ripped apart and left to bleed.

Saint let go of my wrist for a split second as James reached for me, and that was when I ran. I didn’t know where I was running to, or where I’d go. All I knew was I needed to get as far away from Saint as possible. I couldn’t breathe around him anymore.

People scrambled out of the way as I pushed through the crowd, desperate to get away.

“Mila!” Saint yelled behind me, but I kept running. My feet ached in the heels, but I couldn’t risk slowing down to pull them off.

I rushed through the brass swivel door and out into the road. I glanced up and down the street, not a clue in which direction I should go.

“Mila!” Saint’s voice was close behind me, and I turned to see him push his way through a crowd of tourists. “Stop!”

I shook my head, panic and adrenaline pummeling through my veins.

“Mila!”

I scrambled in the other direction and onto the road. The sound of screeching tires sliced my eardrums as cars braked harshly. It was chaos around me—inside me. Disoriented and hurt, panicked and afraid, I just kept running, not caring if I was hit by a car. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt as much as Saint’s cruel words that ripped my heart out.

I finally managed to cross the street, motorists yelling and cursing at me for being so reckless, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting away from Saint and James, as far as I could.

I snuck a glance behind me and saw Saint and James struggling to make their way through the busy traffic. It bought me a little time, and I rushed toward one of the side roads just as a black car screamed around the corner, coming to a stop right beside me. The passenger side door opened, and I heard the familiar voice. “Mila, get in. Get in now!”

Oh, my God.

“Mila, don’t! Get away from that car,” Saint yelled over the sound of hooting and speeding cars.

“Mila,” the driver called, “get in the car. I can help you.”

There I stood, at the side of the road, my mind a minefield of indecision. Everything around me went on mute. It was absolute silence except for the sound of my wildly beating heart as I watched Saint rush through traffic, desperate to get to me.

For a single moment, I remembered how it felt when he kissed me in the limo, his lips seared into mine. That kiss was strong enough to make me believe there was more in him than just monsters, and maybe there was beauty hidden somewhere beneath all the ugliness and darkness. I allowed myself to think that maybe there was a part of him that cared…cared about me.

But I was wrong.

“Mila, stop!” Saint’s voice cracked through the silence, and I couldn’t get myself to move. I couldn’t find the strength to lift my feet off the asphalt as I watched him run toward me, screaming at me. “Don’t do it, Mila. Don’t get in that motherfucking car!”

I wanted to think the reason he didn’t want me to go was because he cared about me. I was a fool to allow myself to even think he did. No matter how hard I wished it was true, it wasn’t. The only thing he cared about was getting what he wanted. His words meant nothing anymore, their only purpose to hurt and destroy. After weeks, after every kiss, every touch, and every powerful moment we shared, Saint was still the devil I met in that penthouse who dug his claws into my soul and snatched me away.

I couldn’t trust him. Not ever.

Another car drove right in front of him and hit the brakes. He slammed his fists on the roof of the car. “Mila, stop. Goddammit!”

Tears stained my cheeks, and I swallowed the pain that sliced my chest like shards of glass.

“I hate you,” I murmured, and the breeze carried the lie from my lips, right before I turned and jumped into the car, slamming the door shut.

I glanced at the familiar face next to me. “Get me out of here.”

To be continued in…