Page 97 of Soulless Saint

“What?” I lifted a brow at Kaleb, my fork hovering over my plate.

“You’ve barely touched your dinner,” he said in a low tone, piling more breadsticks onto his already cleared plate. “You need to take better care of yourself, Vixen.”

“So,” Damien said, with an air of finality as he wiped his mouth with a blood red napkin and pushed his cleaned plate to one side. “I’m guessing my sons haven’t shared with you the reason I invited you to dinner tonight?”

The reason he invited me?

I thought…

“I can see I guessed right,” Damien said before I could formulate a reply. He swirled the remaining scotch in his glass, lifting from his comfortable slouch in his seat to lean his elbows onto the table.

I kicked Kaleb under the table and he jerked, mouthing ow as he reached down to rub the sore spot. “What exactly were you supposed to tell me?” I whispered at him harshly.

He sighed, rolling a reply around in his mouth before opening it to speak. “There’s some shit going down.”

“That’s a hell of an understatement,” Sloane said, tossing her napkin down even though her second helping of lasagna wasn’t even half finished.

My face screwed up as my gaze shifted to each of them in turn. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about? What would your business have to do with me?”

“Nothing, under normal circumstances,” Damien answered. “But my two pigheaded sons have decided to completely ignore my orders to stay away from you.”

I glared at each of them in turn. Not only were they completely ignoring my protests that I wanted nothing to do with them over the last few weeks, but they were also ignoring direct orders from one of the most renowned gang leaders this side of the USA. Awesome.

But… I still wasn’t following. “But why does that—”

“It means,” Damien interrupted me. “That by associating with you in the capacity that they have, they’ve knowingly put you at risk.”

“Dad, come on,” Kaleb argued, but without any real fire, proving that he knew his father was right.

Something cold slithered in my stomach and made a home there. I’d been so good since moving to Santa Clarita. Or at least since moving in with Toby and Kate. Those old feelings of dread, of paranoia that anyone could be a monster in the skin of an innocent. That at any minute I could go from being safe in my bed, to shot through the chest, came rushing back.

They’ve put you at risk.

What did that mean, exactly?

I shuddered, gripping the underside of the table to use it as an anchor. Breathing became difficult as a wave of panic washed over me, fighting to drag me under.

I’d had an entire month of panic attacks after I was discharged from the hospital, and Ava Jade was there, holding my hand through each one, telling me the same thing over and over and over again.

Let the panic consume you, she would say. Accept it or else it’ll never let you go. And then remember, you are stronger than you think you are.

But Aves wasn’t here to hold my hand right now.

“Hey,” Kaleb said, and I gasped as his hand found mine, balled in my lap beneath the table, and squeezed it tight. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you don’t know you can keep,” Damien said, his voice rough with anger.

Let the panic consume you.

Accept it.

And then remember, you are stronger than you think you are.

I am stronger than I think I am.

I exhaled, the tremor in my core stabilizing. And I hated to admit it, but Kaleb’s warm hand wrapped around mine beneath the table was helping, providing me with something sturdy to hold on to.

Once I got the lump out of my throat, I found my voice again, warmth returning to my limbs. “What did you mean?”

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