Page 34 of Saint

Still, I refuse to let him see my fear. If I bow to him in the slightest, I’ll no doubt be eaten alive. I roll my shoulders back and pretend my sanity isn’t being tested. That I’m not screaming at the top of my lungs inside, willing this all to end.

“Why, Violet?” Saint’s tone is firmer this time.

“I’m here to get answers about Liam.”

“You already have them.” Saint watches me. “You and I both know he’s dead.”

“I’m aware.” My stomach sours at his admission after he spent the morning sending messages that Liam was on vacation. “But I know there’s more to it.”

“Like what?”

“You knew me before you got in the car last night.”

He nods, and it feels like he’s giving me the tiniest inch, so I take it.

“But the app is supposed to be anonymous.”

“Nothing is ever truly anonymous.” Saint leans forward, planting his hands on the bed to bring himself closer to me.

I scoot back on instinct, but it just makes him chuckle.

“Did you know who I was when you first messaged me?” I shift back another inch. “Or only after we talked?”

“Lots of questions, kitten.” Saint shakes his head.

I don’t expect him to answer them, but I can’t keep them in. What seemed random wasn’t, and I need to know why.

Why that road?

Why Liam?

Why me?

“When you got in the car, did you know who Liam was?”

Saint stares at me, not answering. The silence radiates around us. And even if I can’t see clearly beyond the mask, I feel his eyes focused on mine.

“You did,” I answer for him. “You knew we’d be on that road headed to the party. You were there on purpose.”

He still doesn’t answer.

Doesn’t move.

Saint waits for whatever realization I’m coming to.

“You were on that roadfor us.” I try to scoot back more, but this time, he doesn’t let me.

Saint grabs both my ankles, pulling me down the bed toward him.

My feet dangle at either side of his hips, and his hands grip my legs. He drags his palms up my shins to my knee—to my thighs. He smears the blood flecked over my skin as he tips my legs open for him. The breeze from my skirt fluttering up reminds me my underwear is on the floor, likely sitting in a puddle of blood.

“You have a lot of theories, kitten,” Saint says, his fingers inching up farther until the tips of them brush my pussy. “So many ideas racing around in your wild little mind. You’re tempted to chase them, but you shouldn’t.”

He skates his fingers back and forth, my pulse picking up speed as he wraps his hands up over my thighs to tug me closer to him.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

He pauses. My legs spread on either side of him as he towers over me.

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