Page 45 of Made for Saints

“What happened?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, too quickly.

“Emilia.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, and I saw the hesitation there, the way her teeth worried her bottom lip. “It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

I stepped closer, my free hand brushing against her arm. “Tell me.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before finally sighing. “The cashier...he made a comment. Something about how Icould ‘pay another way’ if I didn’t have money.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, my grip tightening around the sandwich wrapper. “What did you say?”

“I told him to go to hell,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Can we just drop it? It’s not a big deal.”

But it was a big deal.

It was a fucking huge deal.

My jaw clenched as I processed her words, my vision narrowing as a cold, familiar rage settled over me.

“Stay here,” I said, handing her the sandwich, my voice low and steady, the calm before the storm.

“Dante—”

“Stay. Here.”

I didn’t wait for her response. I turned and strode toward the shop, the bell above the door jingling as I stepped inside.

The cashier—a lanky man with greasy hair and a name tag that read “James”—looked up from his phone, his bored expression morphing into one of confusion as he took me in.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone laced with indifference.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I stepped closer, my movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.

“You made a comment to the woman who was just in here,” I said, my voice low and even. “What was it?”

James blinked, his confusion giving way to unease. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

The words were quiet, yet they carried enough weight to make him flinch. My tone wasn’t loud—it didn’t need to be. It was the calm before the storm, and James could feel it brewing.

“I—look, man, it was a joke, okay? No harm meant.”

“No harm?” I repeated, my tone deceptively calm, tilting my head slightly as I studied him. “You think you can say whatever you want to women and call it a joke?”

James took a step back, his hands raised defensively. “Hey,I didn’t mean anything by it. I swear.”

“Swearing won’t save you.”

Before he could react, my hand shot out, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the counter. The impact rattled the register, the sound echoing through the empty shop. James let out a strangled yelp, his wide eyes darting around as if someone might come to his rescue. No one would.

“You chose the wrong woman to harass,” I said, my voice cold and steady, each word cutting like a blade. “And now, you’re going to learn what happens when you cross a line.”

James stammered, his mouth opening and closing uselessly as panic overtook him. But I didn’t give him a chance to plead. My fist connected with his jaw, the force of the punch sending him sprawling to the floor.

He groaned, his hands fumbling weakly to shield himself, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

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