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His warm breath bathes the back of my neck as he exhales. “To kill Aleksei.”
I always knew it would come to this, but it doesn’t make the certainty any easier to accept. “And what do they get?”
“His empire,” he replies without pause.
“And you believe them? You think they’ll just let you live after everything you know?”
His silence is all the answer I need.
Saint’s journal now makes perfect sense to me. The Oscar Wilde quote sums Oscar up to a T. He would betray Alek for something he wants—Saint—but this isn’t a deal without strings. And as for Borya and Astra, they are two sociopaths who are sick of being second best. They want true reign—all hail the king and queen of the underworld.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Hugging my middle, I take a moment to compose myself because I know Alek will come searching for me soon.
“A????.” Saint gently places his hand over the slope of where my neck and shoulder meet. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. Someone will be waiting for you. You can trust him. I will come meet you as soon as I can.”
I can’t shake the feeling that he’s not telling me something.
“As soon as you can?” I turn around slowly, hating that I feel this weight in the pit of my stomach. This was supposed to be our out, the moment when we were both reborn, but it’s fallen short because leaving here will just be another blemish on my soul.
“You mean when Alek is dead? And god knows what will happen to Sara?”
I don’t mean to be confrontational, but how can I do this?
Saint arches a dark brow, folding his arms across his chest. “And you have a problem with Alek being dead? I thought you wanted this to be over with as much as I do.”
And that’s the catch. I thought I did. But now, the thought of me having a hand in Alek’s death makes me sick.
“Of course, I do. I just…I know it’s personal because of what he did to Zoey. I’m not excusing his behavior but—”
Saint shakes his head, his cheeks billowing as he exhales. “But? It sounds like youareexcusing his behavior. There is no but in this situation. I never thought you’d be so…naïve. He’s gotten to you, hasn’t he?”
“What?” I gasp, angered because…he’s right. Not in the way he has to so many others, but I can’t deny being a part of his demise doesn’t sit right with me. And I know what that says about me.
I hang my head in shame.
“That son of a bitch!” Saint turns around, and with a roar, he punches a hole straight through the wall. His fist disintegrates the plaster like it’s made of mere paper.
Sara yelps while I rush forward, stopping him from doing more damage. “Stop it!” I grip his forearm, begging him to stop. “It’s not like that.”
He shrugs me off, his fury burning me as he turns around quickly. “It’s exactly like that, but listen to me,a????.” He lowers his face to mine, his tepid breath blowing the hair from my cheeks. “I will never allow him to destroy you too. I will do everything in my power to get you the fuck out of here. Even if you are kicking and screaming, you will be leaving here. Tonight. We clear?”
I stand my ground, gritting my teeth in frustration. “I’m not Zoey.”
He inhales sharply, closing his eyes, appearing to ask for mercy from above. When he opens them, I gasp because the color consumes every inch of me. “I said are. We. Clear?”
Fuck him and his infuriating need to protect me. This is an argument I have lost. No matter what I say, Saint will ensure tonight’s plan will go off without a hitch. “We’re clear.”
And that’s what defeat sounds like.
“Good. Now go back downstairs and have your customary dance.”
My eyes widen. How did he know?
“Oh yes, I know all his tricks. Don’t forget who made me.” Nothing but bitterness reflects in his tone as he stands before me broken.
Something ugly is transpiring between us. Saint was my safe place, but now, he can’t stand to look at me.
“Saint—”
