Page 54 of Saint

“Finally,” a man said, stepping out of the shadows. Saint’s head snapped over to see a tall, gaunt-looking figure move closer. He wore round, wire-rimmed glasses over watery, light brown eyes and his hollowed out cheeks reminded Saint of a corpse. “I was beginning to think I’d have to wake you up with one of my devices.”

He didn’t like the emphasis Skeletor put on the worddevices, but he was only concerned about one thing at that moment. “Where’s Mia?”

The mere mention of her name brought everything rushing back at once. The team of men breaking into the cabin. Getting stabbed in the neck with a sedative. Mia screaming.

He had no idea how they’d found them, but that information would have to come later. Now he only needed one answer. “Where is she?” he growled out when the man in front of him didn’t reply right away.

“She’s with her father,” he stated with a small, tight smile. “I’m sure they’re having quite the family reunion right about now.”

His answer confused Nik. Was Mia a part of this? Had she led them to the cabin? Or was she now locked up somewhere? His gut churned and he clenched his hands into fists, pulling at the manacles. “Who are you?”

“Dr. Grendel.” He moved closer, the look of anticipation on his face making Saint’s skin crawl.

Dr. Malcolm Grendel. He recognized the name instantly.

“Tell me, Nikolai, what sort of torture devices are you familiar with? Being associated with the Bratva and then locked up in a Russian prison must’ve exposed you to some interesting tools. Some we might even have here.”

Grendel patted the covered table with a bony hand and Saint swallowed back the bile rising up his throat. Malcolm Grendel was one of the ten names on The Agency list. Out of all the assholes in that organization, why did he have to deal with this creepy-looking psycho with a penchant for torturing? Why couldn’t he have gone to the sex resort like Ryland?

Because you’re fucking cursed and have been ever since your own mother abandoned you,a little voice taunted.

Grendel yanked the cloth cover off the table to reveal an assortment of torture devices—pliers, a drill, a hammer and several wickedly sharp blades stuck out the most. He didn’t likethe looks of the gas mask with a tube attached to a pouch that could hold liquid, either. He didn’t feel like drowning today.

Fuck.Saint had been tortured enough in his life. Going through it again…

He wasn’t sure if he could survive it.

“What shall we try first?” Grendel rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Any preference?”

“Yeah, go fuck yourself.”

“No? That’s okay. I’ll be more than happy to choose.” He ran his skeletal-looking hand lovingly over the dirty tools. When he lifted the hammer, Saint tried not to grimace. “We could start breaking bones.”

Don’t show fear,he told himself.Be fucking defiant to the end.

“Give it your best shot,” Saint growled, straining against the restraints and glaring at the doctor. If he weren’t manacled, he’d beat the other man to a bloody pulp with every object on that goddamn table.

Despite his bravado, flashes of Anton Petrov’s torture room filled his head, followed by the hole in the Russian prison where he’d been locked up for days. And the closet at the orphanage. No matter how much he’d been through, that goddamn closet still gave him nightmares and made him break out in a cold sweat.

At least this sadistic bastard didn’t know about his claustrophobia. He could rip off Saint’s fingernails and yank out his teeth with the pliers, but the moment he locked him up in a small, dark, confined place, Saint knew he’d lose his shit.

With a disappointed frown, Grendel laid the hammer back down on the table. If Saint refused to show trepidation, it ruined the other man’s sick fun. Saint was tough as nails and, from experience, he knew it took a lot to break him. As long as Grendel didn’t discover his biggest fear, he could suffer for days on end.

Or, at least until his team arrived.

???

The cold, damp, rocky tunnel looked like it had been abandoned a long time ago and Mia guessed it was an old Soviet bunker. The entire place had been carved into a mountainside and the eerie vibes it gave off filled her with dread.

Her father held her arm in a firm grip as he roughly escorted her down the dimly-lit tunnel with Benedict Salinger, his lapdog, following closely behind. She snuck a glance at the man who bore no resemblance to the one she’d spoken to earlier on the phone. Chadwick Carlisle had no interest in having dinner with her. He just kept asking for intel on Saint and Ex Nihilo. But Mia refused to tell him anything. And the more she held out, the more her father’s face twisted in an angry rage until he was almost unrecognizable.

“Let me go,” she ordered, twisting free of his too-tight hold.

Chadwick abruptly turned and slapped her across the face. With a shocked cry, Mia pressed a hand to her stinging cheek. Words fled her. Not once had he ever lifted a hand against her. Not until now. Even Salinger had the decency to look surprised.

At that moment, any sliver of hope she’d harbored about salvaging their relationship disappeared. The little girl who’d wanted it so desperately now knew it was impossible. If she wasbeing honest with herself, there was nothing between them to save. And she was done trying.

“I don’t know when you became so belligerent,” he seethed, looking her over as though she disgusted him. “But you’ll do exactly as you’re told, Mia GraceCarlisle.”

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