Page 116 of Ravaged Saints

“Take her body so the Bloodhawks won’t find her!” The command is sharp, final.

“And the other one?” Another voice, distant, blurred.

“Keep her here until I tell you. And keep her quiet.” The rasp is merciless.

Aspen. They can’t hurt Aspen. They won’t. That was the deal—

But I’m sinking. Fading. And I can’t fight it.

Knox

Barely had any sleep last night, even after losing to Dante in several poker games…

The sun is up, the weather is warm, and I’m standing outside, my eyes roaming the only place I ever felt safe, but now something feels heavy.

“You seem on edge, Reaper.” Dante stops beside me, following my gaze.

“I think someone went through my desk.” The words feel heavy.

“What the fuck?” His tone hardens. “Why would someone—” He stops. “Fucking Ethan.”

I shake my head. “Either him or Bryn.”

“Max was with Ryker, and I was with you.” Dante’s face darkens. “Ethan was with Bryn…” His voice dips lower, cautious.

“Aspen.” Her name leaves my lips, and my entire body tightens. “She wouldn’t.”

Dante nods. “I know, but—”

“Morning.”

Aspen’s sweet sound cuts through the darkness, smooth and untouched by the weight settling in my chest. Her dark hair is loose, the wind catching the ends, and I don’t think I’ve ever noticed how long and dark as the night it truly is when it dries, wild waves framing her face.

We both nod, but she picks up on the tension instantly, and her gaze sharpens. “What?”

I inhale deeply. “Where were you last night, Aspen?” I ask, stepping closer, measured and careful.

“In my bed, why?” She crosses her arms, defensive, icy blue eyes flicking between me and Dante.

“All night?” Dante presses.

“Yes! I was exhausted!” Her eyes narrow, heat flaring in them. “Just fucking spit it out. What’s with the interrogation?”

Dante shifts behind me, fists clenching. “Were you in Knox’s room?”

Her expression flickers, then hardens. “Last night?” She lets her arms drop to her sides. “Why the hell would I be in your room?”

She steps closer, chin up, chest out. A whole five-foot-three attitude squaring up against me, and the corner of my mouth twitches in amusement.

“You could’ve been looking for me,” I offer, though I know better.

“If I were, I would’ve knocked.” Her eyes flash. “Reaper.”

My muscles tense at the way she says it. Fuck, I secretly love when she calls me that. I step closer, and she shoves at my chest, but I wrap an arm around her, pulling her against me.

“I wasn’t in your room!” she grits out, struggling against my hold.

“I know, pet, but we had to ask,” I murmur the words against her ear, feeling the tension slowly drain from her body.

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