Page 63 of DeLuca: The Devil

Damian De Luca, The Saint

Fear. Pain. Hell.

Two things I owe others for touching what is mine and one I am assured for my existence.

Kat should have been safe, far away from the war my brother started, but they found her, my one weakness, and they won’t shy away from using her in the cruelest ways. All that’s left inside is excruciating pain, and I vow to annihilate them all. Nothing will stop me, even if I destroy myself along the way.

Will Kat sacrifice herself, shedding her last bit of hope, or will Damian give what little he has left, sparing his lost love from an unthinkable act?

De Luca: The Saint is the second book in a series of standalones that should be read in order. The Men of Mayhem Series is for an 18+ audience and contains scenes that might not be suitable for all readers. Please see inside for content details.

***Keep reading for the first chapter of The Saint.***

Chapter Forty-Two

DAMIAN

The rain pours from the angry sky as if it’s mimicking every emotion running through me. Kat stands before me with her drenched hair sticking to her skin. My fucking everything pulling away from me, the way, I always knew she would. Our worlds don’t align, they never did, never could.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she shouts loud enough to hear over the thundering sky. Lightning strikes, thunder rolls, the ground shakes.

Normally, a person would jump from the sounds, but I don’t. I’m frozen. Immobile. Fucking broken.

She shakes her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. I reach for her, but she jumps back, “Don’t. I can’t.”

Kat turns and walks away from me.

Pain.

Excruciating pain.

This is why mobsters don’t fall in love with innocent good women. Katherina Kennedy is all things good. She’s probably too good for this earth and far too good for me. More than once I wondered if she was an angel sent here to save my soul. Impossible. She couldn’t save me; I’m too far gone. Like trying to glue a shattered glass back together, I’m forever broken.

Why am I letting her simply walk away from me? Because she deserves so much better than I am.

Kat is everything good and beautiful in the world. I’m everything bad. Good and evil can’t have a happy ever after. The sacrifice is too great.

I watch as she gets further into the distance, barely recognizable to my eyes.

Pain.

I clutch my chest as the pain threatens to destroy me. I already know it will. I am a shell of a man without her. I remember what it was like before Kat came into my life.

Empty.

Fucking random women to ease the ache. Never feel a goddamn thing. This is my existence.

Broken. Shattered. Complete devastation.

The one and only person that made it possible to breathe. Gone. Just last night, I was inside her, and today, I’ll never fucking touch her again.

All because of my pathetic need to be honest. She asked, and I swore I’d never lie to her. Kat wanted to know the truth, but now she left me. I should’ve fucking lied. I would’ve done anything to hold onto the one good thing I had. Too good. I lost her because she’s better than I am. I’m a bad man. The worst. A wolf in sheep's clothing. I can never come back from this. Kat will go on, meet an accountant or some boring ass shit like that, and I’ll live forever alone exactly as it’s meant to be. They say misery loves company, but misery doesn’t deserve company.

I didn’t choose this life. It chose me. But I never walked away from it either, not even when Kat begged me to. I knew the moment I held her for the first time this day would come, and it has.

I stand staring as she disappears from view. I’ve always known this day would come, but I didn’t know it would be today. That’s the bullshit about hindsight. If I had known last night, that today was the day, I would’ve held her longer, tighter. I would’ve cherished her taste even more than I normally did. I live a life of no regrets, or at least I did before her. Now I regret losing her, but more than anything, I regret ever fucking loving her.

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