Page 10 of Lethal Saint

I caught the keys when Jonathan threw them and ignored his probing stare.

“You okay? This shit isn’t triggering for you?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

Sure, it made me remember finding two of the women I loved most in the world brutally murdered. Forced me back into those memories, when I’d fallen to my knees and broke, but this was different. The victim was still alive, and she needed care. I wasn’t about to break down.

Jonathan grunted, a sound that managed to call bullshit, and climbed into the back seat.

The drive was the longest in my life, even though it was only twenty minutes from Ivanov’s flashy manor in Richmond to my apartment in One Hyde Park. My family had their own flashy manor, full of similar gold, crystal, diamond, and glittering wealth—withoutthe seedy abuse—but the good thing about being the second eldest son of a crime family as rich as sin was being able to escape the constant noise and drama of the family home.

Not that I didn’t go home on Sundays, because I was a good Marshall boy. Dad would have killed me if I didn’t. Hopefully he’d understand why I was skipping tomorrow’s dinner. That orhe’d be livid the second he found out what I’d done tonight. Who I’d killed.

I glanced across at Vasilisa as I pulled into the car park beneath the apartment building. She still clutched the gun but she’d stopped shaking. Soothing a woman’s fear was worth facing my father’s wrath. Or worse—his disappointment.

“I’ll give the King a rundown,” Jonathan offered, following me out of the car and slamming his door shut. “We need to be ready for retaliation from—fuck, from everyone.”

I sighed, walking around the car to open Vasilisa’s door. She sat there, frozen again, and I knew it wasn’t because she was accustomed to being treated like a queen but because she was scared stiff.

“Your father can’t get to you here,” I said gently, ignoring the look Jonathan shot my way that called me a soft-hearted bastard. He strode over to the lift and disappeared up to the apartment he had beneath mine.

I reached slowly into the car, giving Vasilisa enough time to make me bleed if she chose, and tucked a strand of soft blonde hair behind her ear, drawing her eyes to mine.

“See that guard over there? No one gets past him. And the doors to this car park won’t even open without a key fob like this.” I grabbed it out of my pocket, letting her see it. “This place is as secure as it gets, little queen. You don’t need to be afraid.”

Her throat bobbed. She nodded, though reluctantly, and slowly climbed out of the car when I backed up to give her space.

I knew what she thought of me, knew she was waiting for me to make my move or lay out my demands. But rage buzzed in my ears and the only thing I wanted was for her to talk to me. She spoke to me once, in that room, to repeat her father’s lies. I wanted to hear something real.

Liz’s words echoed through my head when I skimmed the back of my fingers down Vasilisa’s hair, but fuck that spitefulbitch. “You don’t need to fear me, either, Vasilisa. I’m a soft bastard.”

There was nothing dull or vacant in her eyes when she looked up at me, her breath coming sharp and fast. She was remembering all the people I’d killed tonight, no doubt. Fuck, I wouldn’t trust me either. But how did I explain to her that sexual assault, to anyone, any gender, made me want to burn the whole fucking world down?

Nothing I said would prove that to her. I’d have to show her. How to do that completely escaped me. I was good at killing and torture, and the only instinct I had told me to treat her with care and kid gloves, which had already backfired once.

With an ex. But this was different. This was a girl who needed my help.

She followed me into the lift, her whole body stiffening, panic seizing her breath in her lungs when the doors closed.

“Is it claustrophobia, or being in here with me?” I asked, keeping my tone as soft as possible. “If it’s the former, we’ll be in here less than a minute. If it’s the latter—”

I saw from her darting gaze that it was, and nodded. Yeah, I was a scary bastard and I’d committed wholesale murder in front of her.

“Take the safety off your gun, little queen.”

Vasilisa’s eyes snapped to mine, so wide, the brighter flecks like pure, liquid gold. She only dropped her gaze to glance at the gun as she flicked the safety off. It was a run-of-the-mill handgun, something anyone could use without training, but powerful. Especially at such close quarters.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle but avoided the trigger, shaking a little when I folded my hand over hers and brought the gun up to my chest, letting it rest over my heart.

Her mouth fell open, rapid breaths leaving her.

“Finger on the trigger, Vasilisa.”

She stared at me, a bright blend of shock, wonder, and fear—a thousand miles from the empty way she’d first looked at me. Good. She was awake. If I’d known she needed to point a gun at me to find her fire, I’d have done this back in the ballroom.

Her breathing hitched, but she rested her finger on the trigger.

“Good girl,” I murmured, eyeing the control panel. “Five floors left to go.”

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