Page 111 of Ravaged Saints

I snap my head up, my heart hammering against my ribs. Our eyes lock. His expression is unreadable, but the tension in his jaw tells me enough. A sickening weight settles in my chest. The room feels too small, the air too thick.

What the fuck is going on?

Bryn

Waking up, I see that Ethan is already getting dressed. He stayed in my room last night, but something feels off. His shoulders are tense, his movements quick, and his eyes dart between the door and the bag at his feet.

He pulls on his black cargo pants and the compression shirt he wears most days, but then he grabs a vest. Sitting up fast, my heart is pounding. “Is that a bulletproof vest?”

Ethan’s head snaps toward me, his expression carefully blank.

“I’m going for a run, and since Knox saw the footprints, I want to be careful,” he says.

I notice how the words waver; he’s lying.

We’ve been here almost a month, and I know when he’s hiding something. I know him better than he thinks.

“Ethan, please, don’t do anything stupid,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my body against his.

His hands settle on my waist, his lips brushing my forehead. “Don’t worry, babygirl.”

But his eyes are cold and detached. The moment shatters when he steps back and grabs the bag. “If anyone asks, tell them I went for a run.”

I nod, but my stomach twists as he walks out.

A heavy weight sits on my chest, one I can’t shake, even as I head to the shower. I let the water pound against my skin, hoping it’ll wash away the unease, but it only settles deeper.

The last few days have been… off. I feel closer to Aspen but distant from the guys. Ethan told me things would get better and that Knox would understand the changes he’s planning, but the fact that he keeps sneaking out and hiding papers in the trees tells me he is lying. To be fair, I know Knox or the rest of the guys would not accept the plans, but not for the reason Ethan thinks.

I know he’s working with someone. They’re helping him open the base for others. This place can’t survive with just us. It can be used for so much more, even more than what Ethan thinks or wants!

I throw on jeans, a shirt, and boots, tying my hair into a ponytail. I need to feel comfortable today, and I need to be ready.

Upstairs, the house is quiet. Everyone’s still asleep, though I heard Aspen in the shower while I was getting dressed. I grab some fruit and milk, but I can’t eat. My stomach won’t settle; I hear steps, and when I turn, I see Knox walking in. His figure is always a commanding one. He’s wearing a black Black Sabbath shirt and black loose cargo jeans, his tattoos on full display, and my eyes roam over his body; he is all muscles and menace.

“Where is Ethan?” No greeting, just pure interrogation, as always.

“He went for a run.” My answers is clipped and detached, and I don’t bother looking up.

He huffs and walks outside. I roll my eyes. I’m sick of him and his attitude.

He thinks he owns this place, that he controls everyone like we’re still in the military. They aren’t even soldiers anymore. They’re mercenaries!

I rinse my dish in the sink, trying to push down the irritation, when a sound rumbles behind me.

“Morning, Bryn.”

Dante.

I don’t turn. “Good morning, Dante.” I hear him exhale before walking out, and the weight in my stomach grows heavier.

I move toward the stairs, but movement catches my eye. Max rushes toward the left side where Ethan’s room is.

My pulse spikes. What is he doing?

I kneel on the stairs, just low enough to stay out of sight, watching.

Ryker’s muffled words drift toward me, but I can’t make them out. I inch lower, leaning in to catch more.

---