Page 7 of Secrets Unveiled

“219,” I whisper. This man is insufferable. I wish he would just yell at me like Saxon and get it over with. This technique is far worse. I crumble beneath his gaze. He has a way of making me feel so flustered, so out of control, I give in almost immediately.

“Good girl.” Releasing my chin, he kisses the top of my head before standing up and heading towards the door.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, standing from my chair as fear begins to bubble in my chest. My brother is a scary man when it comes to intimidating the men I date, but Saint is terrifying. Last time a man, or rather, a boy, did me wrong when I was a freshman, he didn’t show up to school for two weeks. When he finally did show up, he did everything in his power to avoid me. Never making eye contact and even going so far as to change his entire schedule, so we never shared a class together again. Saint and Saxon told me they didn’t do anything to him, but I’m not stupid.

“Saint?” I call after him.

Stopping in the doorway, he turns toward me once again. He brushes his hair back with his hand, closing his eyes as he does so. As he reaches for his head, his white t-shirt rises just enough that I’m able to see just a bit of his lower abdomen. My eyes instantly focus on his tattooed skin, my face suddenly becoming hot.

When I look up at his face, his eyes are on me. The corner of his mouth tips up just slightly as his heavy gaze remains on me.

“Listen, Sage. Men like that need to be taught that a woman is more than just her pussy. If he keeps going through life thinking women are merely a gift to men, he will end up hurting someone, and I’ll be damned if that woman is you. You’re far more than just a trophy for him to win. You deserve more than anyone, Sage. Never let a man make you feel like you’re not enough. You’re more than enough.” The room falls silent as the two of us stare at one another. Saint is a second brother to me, but when he talks like this, I envy the woman he ends up with.

I wrap my arms around myself, not sure how to respond. One minute, he’s an overprotective brother, and the next, he’s my defender from evil.

“Stop thinking too much on it, witch stick. I’m just going to pay him a quick visit. No need to start digging a grave just yet.” He winks at me, then turns around, leaving me speechless. I let out a long sigh, before I send up a quick prayer for my brother and Saint not to kill this poor man who’s about to get one of the hardest lessons of his life.

Fucking hell.

PRESENT

SAINT

He’s been crying for so long. I’ve never actually witnessed a man cry as much as he has—it’s pathetic, really. I suppose waking up and finding yourself tied to a chair with tape over your mouth may be frightening to some people. To be honest, though, I thought his man would have a little more balls than he’s currently displaying. After dropping off Sage from her date, I came here to Seb’s apartment to pay him a quick visit. It’s become a hobby of mine to visit the men who do so much as look at Sage the wrong way. I’ve been doing this ever since high school, and I’ll admit, I’ve come to enjoy it.

Seb is pleading with me underneath his duct tape as more tears pour from his eyes. Little bitch. I’ve only burned the top of his right hand, barely enough to blister, and he already can’t take it. Sage didn’t even cry when she was pulled from the house fire that left her with third- and fourth-degree burns. She’s stronger than any man she’s ever dated. Doesn’t surprise me though. Growing up in her father’s club has made her tougher than most people in this world.

“For fuck’s sake, shut up,” I moan, as I stand in front of him, flicking my lighter open and closed. The metallic clicks of the lighter ring in the air. It’s a habit, and I find comfort in the noise it makes. Seb’s attention is on the lighter, his eyes filled with fat tears as they dart from the lighter to my face. Well, not my face. I’m wearing my mask; it’s a skull with three thick black lines that trail from the teeth portion to the bottom of the chin.

As much as I enjoy the torture aspect of my job within the club, this type of torment is my favorite. Torturing someone who’s wronged Sage is my personal job that I take very, very seriously. Kneeling in front of Seb, his blood-shot eyes focus on me as I lift the lighter to his left hand. He moans louder, shaking and trying his best to free himself with no luck. I watch the flame dance in the air between us, the sight mesmerizing.

“I’m sure you know why I’m paying you a visit tonight, but let me reiterate it for you. Never call her again, never speak to her again, don’t even think about her, or I’ll know. She deserves better than you, and I’ll make sure she finds it.” Lowering the lighter to his hand, the smell of burning flesh invades my nostrils through my mask. Seb cries into the tape as I watch his skin bubble into bright red blisters. I hold the lighter in place, and only when one of the blisters bursts, do I flip the lighter closed. Satisfaction fills my chest. Seb’s cries dissipate, but he continues to sob, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. Pussy.

“Remember these consequences when you feel the need to disrespect a woman again.” I rip the tape from his mouth, his apologies spewing from his mouth as he shakes his head back and forth.

“I swear, please, no more. She’s forgotten, I promise. Never again.” Seb has this annoying voice that makes me cringe. It’s a cross between a high school boy who never reached puberty and a man who speaks through his nose. It’s so fucking nasally it’s hard to believe Sage found him even remotely attractive.

“Good man. Now, you may want to get your hands looked at. It’s a shame you spilled that boiling pot of water on yourself. I think those burns may scar. Oh well. You can just get them covered up later, after they heal.” With that, I place a small kitchen knife on his thigh, and head towards the door.

“Wait, wait! Aren’t you going to untie me?” Seb babbles. Turning my head over my shoulder, I smile at him.

“That’s what the knife is for, silly. Come on, now. I thought you were a smart man. Bye now.” With that, I slam the door behind me, leaving Seb to find his way out of those ropes. A loud thud echoes from behind Seb’s door, and I laugh to myself, knowing he’s just flipped himself over in the chair. Fucking idiot.

Opening the front door, I take off my hoodie and hang it on the coat rack. It’s been raining all fucking day, and the quick walk from my Tahoe to the door has left me soaked. Rubbing my hands through my hair, water droplets splatter across the marble floor when I hear laughter coming from the kitchen. It’s Sage; I’d recognize her laugh anywhere. She has this low, wheezing laugh that comes from deep down in her belly, and I can’t help but smile at the sound.

Before I make myself known, I lean against the wall, concealing myself from whoever’s in the kitchen, and listen.

“He hasn’t called or texted you at all? Not even an apology?” Ophelia questions. Ophelia is Sage’s oldest friend. They’ve been going to school together since they were in preschool. Ophelia’s father has been a part of the club for all her life, so she is quite familiar with this lifestyle. I guess that’s why she and Sage get along so well.

“Nothing, not a single word. To be honest, though, I didn’t think I would hear from him again, not when Saint showed up at the restaurant.” Hearing my name on her lips has my mouth curling into a wicked grin. That’s right, baby. You know I don’t take kindly to pieces of shit hurting you.

“Wait, Saint showed up at your date? Why? Did he know you were there?” Ophelia gasps as she lowers her voice, as if she knows I’m listening in on their private conversation.

“No, he didn’t know. He just showed up to pick up his order, or so he says. I practically ran into him as I was leaving the restaurant. He told me to get in his Tahoe and wait for him. I don’t know what he said to Seb, but knowing Saint, it wasn’t good. I can probably guess he threatened him in some sort of way.” Sage’s voice is low, but she doesn’t sound angry or mad; she just sounds indifferent.

There’s a long pause in their conversation, and as I’m about to head into the kitchen myself, the front door bursts open, laughter filling the foyer as I turn to see who it is. Bristol and Frieda, Sage’s other close friends, come running in the house, water dripping from their clothes as they try to shield their hair from the elements.

“Fuck this rain! It’s messing up my outfit!” Bristol squeals. Bristol is tall and very thin; her long brown hair is tousled in loose beachy waves as she tries to fix herself. She’s in a tight black dress that barely covers her ass, and the heels she’s wearing make her legs look even longer than they already are.

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