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“I know you don’t want to hurt me.” Contrary to his death grip on my arm. “You’ve always shown me kindness. Even when you’ve punished me…you’ve ensured not to hurt me too bad.”
His nostrils flare. He’s angered I’m privy to his secret.
“I saw what you did to Drew.” I swallow past the lump in my throat as I can barely speak his name without wanting to be sick. “It looked personal because it was, wasn’t it? You were there when he made the deal. I was dragged into this just like you were. Why? Tell me why you’re doing this!”
“Stop talking,” he snarls, shaking me like a rag doll. But I will not. This is the first emotion I’ve elicited from him, and I’m not about to stop now.
“Help me understand. You’re the only person who can fix this. Please.”
“This can’t be fixed! Don’t you understand? We’re both dead if I don’t do this. And I can’t fail he—”
“You can’t fail who?” I press, begging him to tell me what’s going on. “I don’t want to believe you’re the villain. I know that you’re not.”
“You know nothing about me!” he screams, his wrath propelling the hair from my face. “You have no idea what I’ve done!”
“Tell me! I want to understand you.”
“No, ah???, you don’t,” he counters sadly, releasing me. His touch has left bruises, but I don’t care. They are not reflective of who he is. I refuse to believe they are.
“No one is perfect. My mother made me believe I was nothing but a whore, and that I deserved her boyfriend pinning me to the floor and telling me how hard he was going to fuck me.”
Saint closes his eyes for a split second, appearing pained.
“And for a long time, I believed her. She told me my looks were used for nothing but evil, but I proved her wrong. You can do the same. Show Popov you’re not the man he believes you to be.”
“I can’t,” he exclaims, eyes wild. “No matter how badly I want to.”
“What has he got over you?” I inquire, shaking my head in confusion.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” I rebuke, standing my ground.
“We are not having this conversation.” A fire thrums through his veins. I can see it. He is about to explode.
With a match in hand, I declare, “It’s Zoey, isn’t it?”
I have snatched the air from his lungs.
“Don’t,” he warns, pointing his finger in caution.
It falls on deaf ears. “Why not? She’s the only person who can stir any sort of human response from you. Is she—” The words are trapped forever when his arm shoots out, and he cups my throat.
I gasp, struggling to breathe, but I don’t fight him. “She is the most important person to me, and I will do anything,anythingto protect her. And if that means handing you over to Popov, I will gladly do so because you mean nothing to me!”
My lower lip begins to quiver.
I wasn’t expecting him to recite a love poem in my honor, but I thought we were at least friends.
“You are insignificant to me, and quite frankly, the only reason you’re still alive is because I need you.” And he doesn’t mean that in the warm and fuzzy sense.
“Iwilldeliver you to Popov. So get used to that idea. There is nothing between us! Nothing! You’re just a pretty face to jerk off to.” He tightens the hold around my neck while I arch back. “Understood?”
I nod slowly, a tear scoring my cheek. I am defeated as this is the first time in fifteen days he’s shown me true cruelness. My momma’s words come back to haunt me.
He releases me, and I sag forward, gasping for air as I rub my neck.
“Good. Now get out of my sight. I have work to do.”
