Page 13 of Ravaged Saints

Slowly, I walk inside, my fingers fidgeting with the frayed edges of my sleeves. The sound of the metal door clanging shut behind me feels like a death knell, the echo of its finality ringing in my ears. I’m trapped.

My thoughts spiral into overdrive, my chest tightening, my hands clenching at my sides. I need to focus. I need to stay calm. But my breathing betrays me—shallow, fast, like I can’t quite catch my breath.

“This is Ryker,” Max says, pointing to a man stepping out of the shadows. Another tall one, of course, with jet-black hair and eyes to match.

Ryker strides over to Max, clapping him on the shoulder and whispering something that makes Max grin.

“And this,” Knox says, stripping off his gear without even glancing my way, “is Bryn, and the one over there looking like she wants to kill you with her eyes is Aspen.”

“Nice to meet you, ladies,” he says with a wink, his smile unwavering.

“Where are the others?” Knox asks, and Ryker nods with his head.

Are there more of them? How many more?

Max puts his hand around Bryn’s waist. “Let’s get in so you two can meet everyone.” His grip is steady, and the way he says it, you’d think this was just another ordinary day for him.

Bryn glances back; her lip trembles slightly before she shakes her hair, and the mask is in place again.

As we enter, a large open room greets us, and music is playing, a song I recognize, Sleep Token—The Summoning. I can’t remember the last time I heard music!

Looking around, I notice that the kitchen occupies the left side, with sleek black cabinets lining the walls, its stainless steel appliances reflecting the dim lights. Adjacent to it, the living room is centered around two black leather couches, facing each other with a third couch nearby by the window. A flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall, an old DVD player hooked up beneath it.

To the right, a pool table stands under a set of bright lights, and at the far end of the room, a door leads somewhere deeper into the place. The smell of roasted meat lingers in the air, my stomach growls in response. The space is decorated, with skull posters hanging on the dark concrete walls. A few mismatched rugs—some tattered, others newer—cover parts of the grey floor.

“How?” I murmur, unable to hide the surprise, my pulse picking up.

“Generators.” I jump, heart racing, as the words come from behind me. Ryker leans casually against the wall, his posture relaxed but still imposing. My eyes fall to his toned arms, the veins pulsing with each movement, and I notice, unlike Max and Knox, the skin of his arms is unmarked, no tattoos in sight.

I nod, my mouth still open; he lets out a soft smile.

A whistle comes from the door at the far end of the living room, and two more men come in, both dressed in cargo jeans and t-shirts.

“This is Dante,” Max points to the guy in the black shirt, his brown hair messy, with curls; his eyes are hazel, and like Knox, he is fully tatted, and a skull on his hand catches my eyes. He looks at Bryn first, taking her in; his eyes travel all over her body.

“I’m Bryn,” she says, sounding shaken and a little defensive; at least I’m not the only one feeling like we just walked in the lion’s lair.

He nods, but his eyes shift to me almost immediately; the corner of his lips turns up, and he licks his bottom lip. “And you?”

I swallow the knot in my throat but stand my ground, tilting my chin up, “Aspen.”

His gaze shifts to Knox and back to me, a smile playing on his lips.

“I’m Ethan,” the other guy walks up to Bryn, offering his hand, and she takes it. “You’re shaking, babygirl,” he says, moving to the couch. He takes a soft brown blanket and puts it around her shoulders, and then he looks at me.

“I’m good.” I raise my hands and step to the side, before he even asks anything.

Knox murmurs something to Dante and Max, and they both shake their heads, looking at me, and my heart is beating in my ears; I can feel the blood coursing through my veins; this is bad.

“Where did you find,” Dante looks at us again with a smirk, “these precious ladies?”

Knox shakes his head, heading to a bar that looks like something someone built with spare pieces of wood; he pours something, a golden liquid, into a cup. “Aspen over there,” he points his finger without turning to me, “got caught on the foot snare while we were sweeping the place.”

Bryn heads to the couch and sits; the last guy, Ethan, with his blond hair, looking like a tattooed Disney prince, sits next to her. “She pushed me. If she didn’t, it would’ve been me hanging upside down.” She covers herself with the blanket and leans back, closing her eyes.

She looks so comfortable here; how is that possible?

I’m still standing near the door, arms crossed in front of me, my eyes darting between the five guys who live here, no women. They are all fit, and by the way they move and dress, I’m guessing they are all soldiers or…hunters.

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