Page 65 of Of Saints & Savagery
Frederick, the reclusive head of the Skull and Crossbones, must have sent them. And after the guys refused when I offered to let them use me as bait, this feels like a second chance. If I fight them off, he’ll send someone else. He won’t give up until he gets what he wants. Like Annabel Lee said, there are lots of them, and only one of me.
But maybe one of me is all I need.
The guys didn’t even have to use me as bait. I already was. Now I’ve hooked just the man I needed to talk to. I just have to keep my head—literally and figuratively—long enough to find out where Eternity is. This might be my only chance.
And if I’ve learned anything this year, it’s how easy it is to fool a powerful man who thinks you’re harmless and innocent as a lamb. I did it to the guys, didn’t I? They would have never guessed I was Merciless. I played dumb, and they believed me. I pretended I was powerless, and they believed me. I acted helpless and naïve, and they fell for it.
Now, all that feels like a warmup for this.
If I go along, docile as a lamb to the slaughter, they might believe I am one. If I play my cards right, I can convince Frederick that I’m not a threat. I’m just a dumb girl who asked questions about her best friend because she misses the sleepovers they used to have. He’ll never know that we stoppedhaving those after Mom found us trying to use the skills Heath taught us to pick the lock on Dad’s gun locker.
So I don’t fight the guys, even though I might be able to take all three. I let them lead me around the side of the building away from the movie screening. I don’t call for help when a couple walks by, leaving the movie to slip back to the dorm for a little time alone before lights out.
The three men march me toward the road, then to the corner, where a van is parked. It’s not a creepy white van with no windows, like you see in movies. This one is huge, with tinted windows and a luxury brand logo on the front. The lights are on, and the engine purrs to life as we approach. When we reach it, the tall guy goes around and climbs into the driver’s seat while the other two open the door and usher me inside.
Two bench seats sit facing each other, more like a limo than a scary kidnapper van. In the center of the one facing forward, a man sits waiting. He looks like the driver but bigger, stouter and a bit older. I hesitate, my pulse pounding so erratically I can’t make a decision. Fear thrums through me, but I know that panicking doesn’t help. I have to use the fear, like I do in the pit.
So I climb into the van and sit on the seat facing him, meeting his eye like I’m no more scared of him than I am an opponent at the Slaughterpen.
The other two guys climb up and close the door, and the van pulls away from the curb.
My heart stops, but I don’t flinch.
“Hi,” I say, when the man doesn’t speak, but only studies me with a cool, calculating gaze. “I’m Mercy. But I guess you know that already.”
“I do,” he says. “It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance in person, though. Judging by your willingness to join me, can I assume you won’t be any trouble?”
“No trouble,” I assure him with my most demure smile.
“Good,” he says, holding out a hand to shake. “I’m sure you know who I am too.”
I take his hand, my gaze meeting his grey one. The realization snaps into place too late, and in a split second, I know why he looks so familiar. Our palms connect in that instant, and something sharp bites into my skin. I try to recoil, but he grips my hand firmly, refusing to release it, pressing the painful point deeper.
“Nice of you to join us, Mercy Soules. You’ll have to excuse the precautions. I needed a little bit more than your word. My sons seem to think you’re loads of trouble. From what I’ve heard so far, I’m inclined to agree.”
My mind has grown so fuzzy, my body so heavy, that all I want to do is lie down, but I can’t seem to remember how.
Julian Sincero releases my hand and catches me when I pitch forward. He lays me on the floor of the van between the seats.
“They tell me you’re quite a skilled combatant—famous even,” he says, stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Fame is always a selling point. And with this face, you’ll fetch me quite a pretty penny.”
twenty
The Saint
My phone buzzes, but before I can pick it up, Ronique starts yelling.
“I can’t believe you,” she seethes, wheeling on me as soon as the door closes behind Mercy. “How long has this been going on?”
All my life, from beginning to end, whenever that day comes.
“I told you I wasn’t a nice guy,” I remind her, not bothering to pretend to care. Ronique was a means to an end, and the end is here. I warned her that I’d hurt her, and she took it as a challenge. That’s on her, not me.
I pick up my phone, but before I can check the messages, she hurls a shoe at me. “You didn’t tell me you were fucking yoursister.It’s sick!”
“Adopted sister,” I reason, batting her shoe into the corner. “We’re not related by blood.”
“Byblood?” she splutters. “Do you even hear yourself? What kind of perverted house did you grow up in?”
