Page 6 of Dirty Little Saint

I nod while trying to swallow down my apprehension. “Fair enough.”

He locks the door behind us before spinning on his heel. “Follow me. I’ll show you to the library.”

The only thing I’m looking forward to now is the many cocktails I’m about to imbibe. Lord knows I’m going to need them to get through this night.

Riot

I fear nothing. Not even death. My father is someone I should fear. Holden Graves is a monster. But I stopped being afraid of him a long time ago.

And he fucking hates me for it.

I pause before entering my father’s office, taking one more peaceful breath of sanity before the torture begins. But no matter what he does to me, I have to keep the target off Maureen. He can’t know what she means to me. Fuck, I’m still figuring that out myself. All I know is that the thought of him harming her in any way lights the poison in my veins on fire. I’ll burn this whole fucking compound down to keep her away from him and his sick games.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that looking at my father is a bit like peering into a future mirror. I am my father’s son in many ways. From our tall, lanky builds to our jet-black hair, although his is now peppered with grey, to our sharp jawlines, angular noses, and bright-blue eyes. But that’s where the similarities end.

Holden Graves is a terrible husband and an even worse father. My mother and I have the physical and mental scars to prove it.

I enter without haste, pushing the door open like it owes me money. I can never appear weak in front of him. He’ll find some way to make me pay for it. Every step, every breath has to be calculated around him. Everything I do is deliberate and with purpose. Just one wrong move is all it would take for him to gut me open and feed me to the wolves.

I stand rigid in front of his desk, careful not to make eye contact until he addresses me.

“At ease, Riot. Sit the fuck down.”

I don’t relax, but I sit immediately. My shoulders are so tight, my bones feel like they might crack.

We lock eyes, and a shiver passes through my lips, down my spine, and spreads to every inch of my body. This man is murder in the flesh. Pure fucking evil. It’s no wonder I have anger issues. The devil’s blood runs through my veins.

It makes me fucking sick to my stomach.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” He leans back in his black leather chair casually. But it’s an act. The second I let my guard down, the moment I start to think he’s being chill is when he’ll strike. He lures his prey into a false sense of safety before ripping their throats out with his bare teeth.

I press my shoulders back and stand my ground. I don’t have the luxury of being a normal son. “I assume you’re referring to your bastard, Zeke. He’s dead. I killed him. There’s not much else to say.”

My father’s nostrils flare even as a twinkle of amusement flitters in his eyes. But he doesn’t break. “You did not kill your brother. Your new slut did. And what I’m referring to is how in just one short semester, you’ve managed to lose complete fucking control of Nocturnus.”

My brother. Fucking pathetic. Atlas and Valentin act more like my brothers than Zeke ever did. That bastard snuck into my coven, staged a coup, and went after my woman. But my father wants to blame me? Nah. Fuck this.

“Maybe if you had better control over your dick, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” I bite back.

He doesn’t even have to move an inch to bring me to my knees. Without making a sound, he attacks.

A blast of heat hits my chest first, then a barrage of needles stab at my throat. He’s always careful about not leaving marks. Physical scars can be covered up with tattoos and clothing. No, he goes for where it hurts the most. He hits the innermost parts of you that you can never escape from.

“You were saying?” His eyes turn black as he continues to assault all my nerve endings.

I don’t push back. I’d have to lean on my thread to Maureen, and I don’t want him tasting that. It’s not his to know. So I stifle my own power and take his punishment like a true fucking Graves.

When I was a kid, my mother tried to stop him. She’d get in between us and beg him to show me mercy. It worked a few times. But eventually, he said that she was making me soft. And he was right. If I had been able to defend myself, my mother wouldn’t now need the assistance of a cane to walk. She wouldn’t have been robbed of every ounce of joy in her life. He beat it out of her the same way he beat it out of me.

I’ll be fucking damned to hell if he thinks he’s going to do that to Maureen. Not to mention her ever-growing hold over Atlas and Valentin. Holden Graves will have to get through all three of us, and it won’t be pretty.

“Your resistance is futile. I will break you open and take what I want,” my father growls.

I smile back at him and continue to hold my position.

He releases me with a snarl. “Do not underestimate me, son. That was just a taste of what’s to come if you don’t get in fucking line.” He smooths his scarred hands down the front of his shirt. “How did you lose control of Nocturnus?”

I have to swallow a few times before I can speak without my voice cracking. He did a fucking number on my throat. “I didn’t lose control. Zeke and the others failed. The ones I didn’t kill are rotting in Absentia Asylum.”

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