Page 184 of Vicious Saint
We’d start the new school year off as stepsiblings by day, secret lovers by night?
Bex and Archer cast glances at me over their shoulders, sharing the same look of concern as I blink away the tears threatening my eyes.
Saint on the other hand? His only concern is with Annalie and her hand riding his thigh.
But it’s her stupid mousy laugh that hits my breaking point.
“Fuck this,” I mutter with a furious swipe of books and pens into my bag, then shoot up and across the room, eyes ahead the entire way to the front.
A strong hand snaps around my arm when I reach for the door, making me stagger back, around, and into Costa’s chest.
What the—?
“Is everything okay, Miss Montgomery?”
“Don’t you dare fucking touch me!” I shove the asshole away, too blinded by shock and rage to notice Saint until he’s got his hand around Costa’s throat, sweeping his legs out from underneath him.
Saint stands over him like a god of wrath, and the entire room explodes in shouts and whistles, desks banging and sliding to make room for a fight they know is about to happen.
It’s the same fucking movie when it comes to this guy.
Only difference this time—I refuse to stick around and watch till the end.
The door flies open seconds later, revealing Carlo, gun drawn, with zero hesitation before jumping in front of me and backing us into the hall.
“Get off me, Carlo!” I command, trying to fight his hold as he drags me away from the room. “Ora!”
“Signorina—” he attempts to argue, but I pull from his loosening grip before he can.
“No.” I hold out my hand to keep him away. “Everyone needs to stop. Fucking. Touching me.”
He returns the gun to his waist.
“Let me, eh, take-ehyou back to your room, yeah?”
“Not happening. I still have half the day left.”
“Sì,but your brother…he’s,eh,come si dice?” Carlo’s fingers pinch together. “A pain in my fucking ass.”
I must’ve hit a new level of outrage, because it comes through as a chuckle. Then a snort. Then a straight fit of laughter when Carlo asks if his English was correct.
“Saint is a pain in the fucking ass in every language, so yeah.”
Carlo nods, relieved by my amusement.
Silence befalls the classroom, allowing me to hear the rapid footsteps, radio static, and chatter coming from security down the hall. Which means it’s only a matter of seconds before I go back to facing the hurt, and my friends, who I know will be looking for answers.
I have none. For anybody.
Not even myself.
So when Carlo suggests again we go back to the room, I don’t bother trying to argue.
I’m in the midst of unbuttoning my shirt when the door flies open and closed with a thwack.
“You alright, Jimi?” Saint has the audacity to barge over, still reeling from whatever unfolded thirty minutes ago. “Did that guy hurt you?”
“What the fuck do you care?” I yank my arms out of the sleeves, tossing the shirt next to me on the bed.
