Page 11 of Savage Saint
Crackling flames. Wood splintering.
My legs lock, the world tilting sideways as the past mixes with the present. The car alarms fade, replaced by a different sound—a child screaming.
"Zakryj oczy."The deep voice comes from nowhere, from everywhere.Cover your eyes.
My knees buckle as bone-deep terror engulfs me and I blindly reach my hand out, trying to hold on to something. Anything.
"Butterfly." Angelo's voice cuts through the fog, his grip on my waist tightening. "Stay with me."
I blink, and I'm back in the parking lot, trembling against him. The flames from the explosion still reach toward the grey sky, but they're different from the ones in my memory. Aren't they? My heart hammers against my ribs as I try to make sense of what just happened, but the memory slips away before I can grasp it.
6
BUTTERFLY
“Move,” Angelo shouts over the cacophony of sounds. Without hesitation, Alessa slips past him and climbs into the back seat. I, on the other hand, can’t move. Rooted to the spot I’m standing on, I can’t take my eyes off the orange haze and smoke blocking the hospital entrance. My lips part as the blaze reflects in my eyes, bringing back memories I’m not sure I want.
Zakryj oczy.The voice echoes in my head.
And the pain. So much pain. And screaming.
A burning building. No, a house. Small hands covering tear-filled eyes. Gone. Everything is gone.
“Butterfly!” Angelo cages me, his hands landing on my shoulders, his face right in front of mine. A single tear escapes the corner of my eye as I try to push the lump lodged in my throat back down. Angelo gently rubs the tear away, his eyes softening, before a series of pops shatter the glass entrance. “Fuck.” His eyes turn cold as he all but shoves me into the car, slamming the door shut behind me. Angelo rounds the car in record time, sliding into the driver’s seat and shifting into gear before his door is even fully closed.
“Buckle up,” he snaps as his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel, his gaze locked on the rearview mirror. I fumble with the seatbelt, my hands shaking as the car lurches forward. Angelo isn’t stingy with the gas pedal as we weave through the parking lot. Alessa takes the seatbelt from me as our eyes meet—hers full of concern, mine full of confusion.
I glance over my shoulder, taking in the blur of smoke and fire getting smaller in the distance. “What—what was that?”
“Nico’s men,” Angelo says through gritted teeth as Alessa’s hand finds mine and squeezes.
“Nico...” I repeat, trying to jog my memory.
“Nico Nicolosi,” Alessa fills in, her eyes darting to the burn on my hip. Suddenly, the letter starts making sense.
“Shit,” I whisper, my stomach dropping. “That’s why you said they’re here to collect their property? Because he branded me? I'm his property?” I find Angelo’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
Alessa’s hand squeezes mine once more.
The further we get from the hospital, the quieter it gets, and it finally dawns me. There are no sirens. Not in the distance, not driving past.
“We need to call nine-one-one!” I tear my eyes away from Angelo and look at Alessa, my voice urgent.
“It’s being taken care of,” Angelo says, speeding down the road.
“They’re on their way?” I ask.
Alessa sucks in her bottom lip. “Something like that.”
“Dante and Luca will make sure those responsible for what just happened get justice.”
“Are they cops?”
Alessa snorts.
“What?” I ask her, turning to face her.
“They’re—”
