Saint at eighteen

“That’s my boy,” his father said, slapping his back.

Saint knocked back another shot of whiskey, relishing the burn of the amber liquid. He’d just completed his first drug run, and competed in a fight with a rival club, Hell’s Wolves. He’d won, just like he knew he would.

Smacking his lips together, he took the club’s cheers, relishing them.

“Saint?” Natasha’s voice had him turning to see the girl he loved. She stared at him and wrapped her arms around herself.

He’d been spending more and more time at the club.

“Son, when you’re in charge, you’re going to have to make decisions you’re not going to like. It’s going to grieve you, and it’s going to tear you down, but you’ve got to deal with it.”

Looking at his father, he saw his old man staring at Natasha.

“I get it.”

“Good.”

Walking toward his woman, he saw how cold she was, how scared she looked.

“What’s wrong?”

Natasha didn’t say anything, just stared at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You made me a promise that the club wouldn’t change you.”

“It’s not. I’m still here.”

She tilted her head to the side, watching him. “You don’t even see how different you are.” Natasha let out a sigh.

“I’m not different. I’m the same guy.”

“I really wish that were true.”

“Look, if you’re just going to fucking moan at me, I may as well go back to my friends.”

“Your friends?” she asked. “You call them friends? You’re covered in bruises. You don’t smile anymore. You never look happy. How the hell can you call them friends?”

Saint shrugged. “They just are, and if you love me like you say you do, then you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

“I have been dealing with it. I’ve been dealing with it a lot, and you just won’t listen to me.”

“The club is in my blood. It’s not changing shit, okay? You’re the one that is nagging me. No wonder Dad’s happy to be rid of Mom.”

He saw the tears filling Natasha’s eyes, and it instantly cut him up. When he went to hug her, she held her hand out, forcing him to stop.

“I want to give you this,” she said.

She handed him over a white envelope. “What is it?”

“Read it. You’ll see.”

Saint read through the letter, and anger consumed him. “What the fuck? This is a job opportunity that takes you out of Sinners’ Corner. I thought we agreed we’d stay here.”

“We did agree to a lot of things. Not all of them worked out. You have the club, and I have nothing.”