Page 70 of His Sinner

No man has ever believed in me like you have orloved me like you have.

I want to do something to make your life better the way you’ve done for me.

Saint.

Saint.

Saint.

Loose dirt shifts only for more to replace it, the earth growing increasingly more difficult to move as the rain seeps in.

I’m coming for you, muse. I will not stop until I’m holding you in my arms again.

Trevor Hobart will not be the end of us. I won’t allow it.

Saint.

Saint.

Saint.

Wet dirt sticks under my fingernails as I finally breach the surface, gasping for air. Limbs too weak now to run, walk, even stand.

But I need to get to her.

Saint.

Rain soaks my clothes, my hair, my face. My arms shake violently as I pull myself out of the grave and flop onto my stomach.

The words are hoarse from my dry, aching throat. “I’m coming for you, muse.”

From my grave, I crawl to her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

BRIAR

Someone is shaking me awake.

Even before I open my eyes, I shrink away, convinced Trevor is on top of me and calling my name.

But it’s not his hands on me. It’s not his voice pleading my name over and over.

Saint’s mud-streaked face fills my vision. His dark hair is soaked, dripping through the dirt marring his forehead and cheeks. Smoke billows toward us above his head. The manor groans and the front doors crack as the fire roars.

“Saint?”

When he hears the whisper and spots my open eyes, he grabs my hand and sobs against it, shoulders shaking. “Fuck. Briar.”

I swallow down the pain, a sob building in my own chest. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

Sorry I doubted him. Sorry I believed him capable of betraying me, hurting me, of loving anyone else more than he loves me.

“Don’t be,” he whispers, clutching my hand as he hunches over me. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from him.”

The smoke burns my eyes, my throat. “You did everything you could. You always have.”

He lets out another cry, pressing his forehead against mine until he composes himself, frantic gaze finding the smoke filling the ceiling above our heads.