Page 360 of Vicious Saint
My throat burns as I try to fight back sobs, because deep down I know Saint means it, and I feel the exact same way. But loving him as fiercely doesn’t justify a lie of this magnitude, and I know I will try to if I keep listening.
“Please stop talking.”
“I won’t. I won’t stop talking, baby. I’ll keep talking until my words bleed through the door and you’re forced to believe them.”
“I hate you…so much.”
“As you should. But that won’t stop me from getting to you. Holding you hostage until you love me again. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll burn the whole fucking world down until there’s no one left but you and me.”
“You should’ve told me from the beginning!”
“And what’s the first thing you would’ve done if I did? Huh?”
“I’d do whatever it took to make sure nobodydiedbecause of me!”
“Exactly! Your instinct to protect the people you love would trump everything else.” Saint pauses. “Including your safety.” He pauses again. “Yes, I lied, and I know how astronomically fucked up it was, but you’ve seen parts of me no one else ever has. You ignited a passion inside me, Hendrix, one I never knew was there or even wanted. You know me, more than anyone else, and deep down you know I had no choice. So please, just come out of the fucking bathroom.”
Looking down, I reach for my necklace, squeezing the horn in my fingers as I close my eyes.
“You weren’t the only man in my life who loved me, Saint. Or that I loved too. Maybe not as long, as much, or in the same way as you, but Carlo was the father I’ll never get to have.” I open my eyes, and with a painful longing, shake my head. “So don’t talk to me about choices…because I’ll never get to know a love like that ever again.”
Another round of silence comes from the other side of the door, and I don’t have to see Saint’s jaw tick to know I proved a point.
“I’m gonna get dressed, and when I come back, either you come out and let me fix this, or I’m coming in.”
The threatening undertone leaves no room for negotiation.
But I can’t even look at Saint, let alone keep talking to him.
No matter how much I love him or how sincere he is about fixing what he broke. I need space, time, and if I’m going to talk with anyone, I want it to be the only two people left I can trust.
Which is why, the second I hear Saint’s footsteps head toward his closet, and the door opens, I twist open the bathroom just a smidge to make sure he’s not in sight.
Then use this as another opportunity to escape.
Hangers sliding across metal come from the closet as I tiptoe across the room and grab my Chucks, knowing I’ve got less than ten seconds to figure out how to sneak out of the mansion without being seen. But, thanks to a stealthy stepsister, it takes me less than five seconds to decide the best way to do it.
I just hope the dumbwaiter is big enough for me too.
It was touch and go for a bit as I lowered my way down to the basement, given I barely made it into the utility closet before Saint’s bedroom door swung open.
And whatever time I was given to prepare to dangle my life off a century old rope, was spent deathly still in a corner as Saint screamed my name down the hall.
Like a champ I did it, though, even managed to text Archer and Bex to meet me in my dorm room in twenty minutes, demanding they tell no one. The besties mentioned earlier having a sleepover in Archer’s room tonight, which works out well for me since I could use all the support I can get.
I was running on pure adrenaline as I navigated the dark basement, climbed out of the window, dodged Vic’s cameras, and jumped in a taxi.
Even now, exactly twenty minutes later, as I’m pacing in my dorm room waiting for my best friends to arrive.
There’s a knock at the door, and I rush over to it, peeking through the hole to make sure it’s them before opening.
“What the freak, Hen?” A worried Bex leads the parade in her pink pajamas. An even more worried Archer follows right after, in an obnoxious flannel concoction that screams proper rich boy.
By the time I close the door, they’re settled on my bed.
“What was with the cryptic text?” Archer asks as I sit between them. “Are you okay?”
Those final three words are all it takes for the adrenaline to pour out of me, leaving room for devastation to flood my insides again, and my tears to pick up where they left off.
