Page 126 of Ravaged Saints

The gunshot rings out, and I squeeze my eyes shut, the sound echoing in my skull like a death knell.

Knox’s and Aspen’s screams slice through the radio, jagged and desperate, but my body stays frozen.

I don’t feel a goddamn thing.

A numbness blankets me—cold, suffocating. I’m distant, untouchable.

I open my eyes.

I don’t feel anything. Not the crushing weight in my chest, not the hot burn tearing through my skin.

Ethan stumbles into my view, clutching his stomach as blood spills in thick, pulsing waves onto the dirt—vibrant and red, like life bleeding out of him.

What the fuck?

“Dante!”Knox’s yells crackles through the radio.“Brother, answer the fucking radio!”

I reach for it, but a voice stops me cold.

“Not yet, Grit.”

The cold wind slithers through the air, sending a chill down my spine.

Ethan groans, falling to his knees, his breaths wet and uneven.

And then I see him.

A tall man stands behind him, brown hair threaded with silver, piercing blue eyes as cold as death itself. His grin is sharp, knowing.

“Long time no see, my friend.”

The blood drains from my face. No. No fucking way.

“Dante?!”Aspen sobs through the radio, raw and desperate.

The man’s smile widens.

“She loves you,” he muses, like it’s some kind of joke.

On the ground, Ethan claws at the dirt, panting through his pain. “We were a team,” he rasps, and my heart clenches. He was one of us. He killed Bryn, but— fuck, it was ten years with him.

I reach out to him, but the man laughs and presses the gun on my injured shoulder, and I hiss, his eyes on Ethan, “How could I trust you? You sold out the BloodHawks for pussy and power.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He lifts the gun, Ethan screams, and he fires again.

His body jerks before going still, his blood pooling into the earth, tears of anger form in my eyes.

He turns to me, his smirk lingering as he steps closer, and plucks the radio from my pocket, his gun never wavering.

“Reaper,”he says into the receiver.

Silence stretches.

“Who is this?”Aspen’s breaks through the radio, thick with tears.

Roman chuckles.“Oh, princess, no need to cry.”

“Stop,” I grit out.

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