Page 13 of No Saint

So, she’d shown him her feisty side. Why did that make me feel hot and angry? Of course, she would fight him and anyone else who walked into that room, her ire wasn’t just for me even if I did like to watch her get all riled up.

I had a decision to make.

-

It was dark by the time I ventured back up to that room. My steps are quiet as I move and gently, I push open the door, standing for a moment.

The boy in my arms stirs but settles again a second later.

Amelia’s eyes land on me instantly, red from tears with dark shadows circling beneath from exhaustion.

“Lincoln,” she breathes, ignoring me as she keeps her gaze, never wavering from the sleeping child.

I make my way over to her. She seems to hold her breath as if unsure this is real.

“Hello,leonessa,” I say, stopping far enough away that she can’t reach me.

“Is he okay?” She asks.

“He is fine.”

Her eyes bounce to me, and she watches as I place the sleeping child on the mattress. She instantly lunges for him, but the restraints keep her arms above her head and body mostly pinned. She cries out as the bindings dig into the sensitive, wounded skin of her wrists. But she continues to fight, continues to pull, hard enough that she opens old wounds and blood seeps through the white gauze.

Leaving the child where he is, curled up and sleeping, I lunge for Amelia, forcing her back down and stopping her from ripping her wrists apart. I doubted she’d stop.

She glares at me, fire in her eyes. “I am going to kill you.” She vows.

“Now, now,leonessa,” I whisper, reaching for one of the bindings at her wrist. I unclip it slowly, holding the wrist before moving to the other. She holds my eyes. I unclip that one but keep her restrained beneath my hands, leaning over her so we’re nose to nose. The muscles in her jaw jump as she grinds her teeth. She jerks, trying to free herself.

“If you’re going to misbehave, I’ll just restrain you again,” I promise, “And I’ll take him.” I refer to the kid.

She quietens.

“Good girl.”

She grinds her teeth, eyes flaring.

Slowly, I loosen my grip on her, palms damp with her blood but she doesn’t immediately go for my throat. I stand back, allowing her the space and she doesn’t waste a minute. She goes for the boy, gently lifting him and bringing him to her chest. She holds him close, her face buried against the top of his head. He shifts and fidgets but curls his hands into her, holding her just as closely, even in sleep. She wraps her whole body around him, shielding him from me and using her own body as a barrier.

It was a woman willing to sacrifice everything.

“Leave.” She whispers.

I wasn’t going to argue.

With my bloodied palms I leave them, and I don’t look back and for the first time I am questioning every step I’ve taken that has led me to this spot.

Bringing in outsiders was risky. We didn’t do it. It was family and those that have been working with us for generations. We didn’t trust anyone else, and betrayal happens far too often for her to just remain.

It would take one slip up, one secret spilled to the wrong person, and we could lose it all.

But there were ways to stop it.

Two ways to stop her from talking if ever given the chance.

The first I’d proven I was incapable of doing for reasons I wasn’t going to evaluate, the second… the second I wasn’t ever going to have. Until now.

Rolling my shoulders, I divert to the office rather than my bedroom, opening my laptop to draft the emails I needed to send and get the ball rolling. There was no choice in the matter. No other alternative, and Amelia Doyle was no longer going to be anyone else’s problem but mine.

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