Page 365 of Vicious Saint
Just selective.
Because there’s my best friend, looking back at me in horror with fresh tears streaming down her face. Bex’s glassy eyes plead with me, but she knows better than to speak.
Unlike Annalie behind me, who brings her fake lips to my ear and whispers, “Guess it’s not just my sloppy seconds you’ve been fucking.”
A rage, even worse than the night of Archer’s party, collides with the little self-control I have left. Forming a nuclear reaction so intense, my sanity explodes into a million deadly pieces.
The strongest of them being a hunger for justice.
I spin around, crushing my fist into the side of Annalie’s head so hard it knocks her out cold into the hallway. A decent start, yeah, but it’s notheractions that the real justice needs to be served to.
Pulling out my cell phone, I tap against the screen until I reach my destination…then, with tunnel vision stalk over to the bed. All while ignoring Bex’s spew about how her hook up with Saint “isn’t what I think it is.”
Cool story, bruh.
Add it to the list of lies and disloyal fucks who can go fuck themselves.
Which, at this point, includes every single person in my life. Except for one, and I say that because not only did Carlo prove his loyalty to me, he died honoring it.
Well, it’s time for me to honormyloyalty to him.
I drop to my haunches, sliding the safe out from under the bed, pressing my thumb to the sensor before swinging it open. My body moves on autopilot as I retrieve the box, not bothering to close the safe before heading to the door.
“Hendrix, where are you going?” Bex cries, right before Archer asks, “And who the hell is the gift for?”
I continue the silent treatment, holding the box under my arm and the phone at my side, but it isn’t until I’m kicking Annalie’s body out of the way that the two of them attempt to follow.
Attemptbeing the key word, because the second I hear their feet moving my thumb presses the screen, and I’m listening to the sound of a steel door slide shut behind me.
47
Saint
From nine years old until this moment, I thought I knew my anger well.
The burning hot sensation in my veins.
The ticks. The blackout rage. Need for destruction.
Turns out they’re nothing compared to the hellfire burning a home inside my chest as I run down the steps to catch up to Hendrix.
“Saint! What the heck is going on?!” Theory screams from a floor above me as she tries to keep up.
I’d give her an answer if I actually fucking had one.
What I do know, is whoever the motherfucker was who ruined my chance to come clean to Hendrix the right way is about to live out an even worse nightmare than I am right now.
Father. Wife. Aunt. Security. Fucking Darla.
Nobody is safe from the hell I’m bringing.
“Jimi!” I yell for her the hundredth time, looking over the side of the spiral staircase.
Still no sign of her.
My feet touch down at the foyer, where I find my dad mid attempt to console Hendrix’s mom, and go absolutely out of my mind at the sight.
I charge over and rip him away from her mid hug, dragging him by the collar to slam into the nearest wall. “What the fuck did you do?!”
