Page 129 of No Saint

He shakes his head as a tear drips off the end of his nose and lands on my lip. My tongue peeks out to taste it. “Then why are you crying?”

I know Devon is touching me, lifting my dress but I was so captivated by his blazing hazel eyes swimming with more sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Devon declares, “Now.”

Gabriel moves me off his lap, letting Devon cradle the back of my head. His concerned face looks down at me, “You doing okay?” He asks with a crack in his voice.

“Tired.”

“I know, Amelia, but you’re gonna be okay. On the count of three I want you to take a big breath.”

“Why?”

“Just do that, okay?”

I nod.

“One,” his eyes slide to Gabriel, “Two… three, big breath.”

I suck in a huge lungful and let it out with a scream as my body is hoisted from the floor. My whole body lights up like a damn throbbing beacon. Jesus.

I was no longer tired, no longer confused. Images flash in my head as each injury pounds its pain. Gabriel cradles me as I cry, unable to stop it. I hear footsteps, voices, orders and shouts and then I’m being placed into the back of a car, Gabriel beneath my head as I lay in his lap. Devon is at my legs, holding them. He reaches for my wrist, fingers on my pulse.

“Go!” He orders.

Atlas slams on the gas.

I don’t remember the car journey, but I do remember being moved from the car, the pain again at being jostled around and then there’s a bed under my back and people in blue scrubs and something sharp stabs me in the arm and then I fall asleep.

49

Words like shock, nerve damage and extensive injuries swirl around the space I lay in. I only see darkness, only feel the softness of a bed under me but it was warm, and it felt safe so I let myself drift off again.

When I wake the second time something lays on top of my hand and the only thing that makes a noise in the room is a beep to my left, but it was dark.

I try to move my hand, trying to dislodge whatever it was on top of it.

It moves and someone uncurls themselves abruptly, “Amelia?”

Gabriel. It was Gabriel. I reach for him, feeling tubes and wires holding me back. Wait my leg was elevated. I struggle to do anything but then he’s right there, his big hands cradling my face, his face, darkened in shadow but there, right fucking there.

“Mondo mia,”he breathes before his mouth is on mine, kissing me, my mouth, my cheeks, my chin. Dampness hits my skin.

“Don’t cry,” I rasp, voice rough from disuse.

“I’m so sorry, Amelia. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault. I should have known. I should have confronted him when I had my suspicions.”

“Where’s Atlas?”

“He’s getting coffee, hasn’t left here since we brought you in.”

“He killed Asher, Gabriel,” I whisper, “He’s in a lot of pain.”

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