Page 31 of Forever My Saint

As I walk to my room, chaperone in tow, I can’t help but think that yes, Iwillhave it my way because attached to the mystery lady’s bag is the final bug. I can appreciate fine fashion, but honestly, I’m more of an Old Navy kinda girl.

Thanks to being locked in my cage all day, I had to be inventive to pass the time by. I’ve created my own circuit which consisted of squats, push-ups, lunges, and whatever else I could think of that would help me stay in shape.

I am dripping with perspiration, but I welcome the burn to my muscles. The more I sweat, the stronger I feel. Engaging in this monotonous activity keeps my mind busy. Every time my thoughts drift to Saint, I push myself harder, the agony the only fuel I need.

I am in the bathroom gulping down handfuls of water when I hear the door open. Quickly drying my hands on the towel, I peek around the doorjamb to see who it is. When our eyes meet, my cheeks blister in rage.

“I’m so sorry, Willow.”

I know it’s not Ingrid’s fault. She didn’t have a choice. But images of her down on her knees before Saint with his cock in her mouth have me wanting to kill her. But I rein in my temper.

“Hi,” I curtly reply, walking into the bedroom. “What are you doing here? If I’m to be subjected to an encore performance, tell Oscar I would rather stay locked in this room.”

She gnaws her bottom lip, wringing her hands in front of her. “I didn’t want to—”

But I wave her off, not interested in discussing this further.

Her gaze darts from left to right, which piques my interest. She slowly walks to the corner of the room, gesturing for me to follow. She’s here because she doesn’t want to be seen by the camera.

I have no idea what is going on until she reaches beneath the collar of her dress and produces a silver necklace. There is a brass key on the end of it, one I’ve seen before.

“Go see him. Dominic and I will stall Oscar for as long as we can.”

I blink once, not sure if we’re on the same page.

When she yanks the chain off her neck and shoves it into my hand, I know that we are.

Clenching my fist around the key, I draw it to my heart. “Why are you doing this?” I need to understand why she is risking herself for me.

Shame overcomes her as she bows her head. “This is the only way I can show you how sorry I am.”

I instantly regret my hostile reaction toward her because this isn’t her fault. It’s none of ours.

“Please be quick and keep to the shadows,” she whispers, gripping my hand in her cold one.

“Thank you, Ingrid,” I say with a quiver to my voice. “I know how dangerous this is for you.”

“It’s only dangerous if you get caught. Now go.” She severs our connection and gestures toward the door. “I will leave the bedroom door open and lock it when you’re back, so we don’t rouse suspicion.”

“Okay.” There are a million things I want to say, but there just isn’t any time because I’m not planning on coming back here.

Doing as she says, I slink into the camera’s blind spot and sneak out the door.

I have no idea where the cameras are, but I have to believe they’re currently unmanned, which is why Ingrid was able to sneak into my room undetected. Keeping my back pressed to the wall, I scale down the corridor, hoping my directions aren’t off, and I’m going the right way.

Remembering the hideous artwork that resembles green vomit, I turn left and hold my breath when I’m faced with the wooden door. After I quickly ensure I’m not being followed, I slip the key into the lock and sigh in relief when it clicks open.

Without a minute to lose, I quietly close the door behind, which turns on the dim lighting and illuminates my path down to the basement. With my heart in my throat, I quickly descend the stairs, each heavy step cementing the reality of what I’m about to do.

I don’t care how, but I am determined to break Saint free tonight. Pavel mentioned a secret passageway in Oscar’s bedroom, and I plan on using it. I know where Oscar’s bedroom is. No guessing the mysterious curtain is my out. I just have to figure out a way to break Saint free because when I sprint down the last step, it’s so much worse than I imagined.

“Saint!” I cry, running toward him, frantically cupping his clammy cheeks. “Can you hear me?” His head is drooped forward, but I lift his face to meet mine.

When I am able to look at him, a pained whimper leaves me. His face is barely recognizable. It’s evident he’s had the shit beaten out of him.

“Wh-who did this to you?” I gasp, begging he open his eyes.

He moans in response as his head lolls like an overcooked piece of spaghetti.

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