Page 52 of No Saint

She doesn’t relax but she does twist her head, taking stock of all the dead in the middle of my home, the blood, the gore. Few men still moved, they groaned, their gurgled, bloody cries warping together to create a symphony of agony.

“Colt,” she lunges to her feet.

“Stop her!” I order, hoping to stop her from seeing more death. Devon makes a move to grab her but she side steps him and bursts into the den, disappearing into the room.

“Devon!” I hear her scream. We all move at once, Devon getting there first.

“Help him!” I hear her demand, “Now, Devon! Save him!”

“Shh, Amelia,” Devon soothes, “Come away so I can see.”

When I get to the door, I find Amelia cradling Colt’s head. His eyes were closed but he was alive, his breathing rough and wheezing. Blood trickles out the side of his closed mouth and his skin is a deathly shade of grey. He was lucky he wasn’t already dead.

Devon brought in some of his own trusted men to take care of any survivors, getting them stable enough so my men could get them to the hospital. Somehow, Amelia’s bodyguard was still breathing when Asher transported him. Amelia sits in the centre of the bloodstained couch, pale, swaying where she sits. She doesn’t seem to see the blood anymore, the dead that are being cleaned up just outside the door.

Death would come for us all. I’d seen enough of it in my lifetime that the view of it no longer fazed me. But seeing her there, no liveliness, no color, it was worse than seeing any violence. Devon quietly works on her, checking her vitals before passing scans over her body to check for injury. When his hands gently lay her down on a sheet he’s placed behind her back, she goes willingly.

I watch from the door, my arms crossed, Lincoln now handed to my mother who had met me in the courtyard out front, taken the child and asked no questions.

Amelia stares up at the ceiling, breathing steady. Shock, Devon had confirmed, her emotional state was in turmoil and she felt too much. It was a problem because the shock would mask any pain she might be in, hide any injuries she could have sustained from the attack. She looked okay but that didn’t mean she was.

He starts at her legs, checking for visible injuries and then moves to her torso, gently lifting her top to show her abdomen and the blooming black shadows that bruise across the underside of her ribcage.

Anger rises like a vengeful tide inside of me.

I’d controlled it since finding her, controlled the need for vengeance and retribution against those whodaredto attackmyhome but now, now I felt nothing but rage. There would be no mercy.

Devon tentatively checks the bruising on her body, “How did this happen, Amelia?” He asks.

My teeth snap together, picturing someone, one of my enemies hitting or kicking her when she was down. Hitting her so hard they left these extreme bruises on her body.

“I,” she swallows dryly, “When I was hiding, I went down too hard.” Amelia explains, “I fell against the desk. I didn’t think it was that hard.”

“I think you’ve fractured a rib,” he says, glancing to me, “this bruising is severe.”

She nods mutely, turning back to the ceiling and ignoring Devon as he continues to check her over. He covers her over before standing and coming to me, “She needs to be monitored. The shock will wear off and her ribs will heal but the psychological effects… I don’t know if she’ll cope.”

“She was okay after the wedding,” I say more to myself. This isn’t the first time an attack has happened.

“She had us at the wedding,” Devon says, “This time she was alone. It would have terrified her.”

“You can stop talking about me like I can’t hear you,” Amelia pushes herself off the sofa, tired eyes meeting mine, “I’ll be fine. I’m going to lie down.”

I stop her as she tries to walk past, my fingers trailing across her cheek before I cup it in my hand. She doesn’t stiffen and she doesn’t lean into it, but her eyes meet mine, a spark of something igniting behind her pain.

“Leonessa mia. La tua forza mi stupisce.”

Her brows twitch in confusion.

My Lioness. Your strength amazes me.

“Gabriel,” Atlas calls and under my hand I feel Amelia flinch at the sound of his voice, her eyes dragging to him where he stands next to a body, still moving, at his feet.

She cocks her head, staring.

I watch her but call to Devon, “Take care of her.”

He nods, ushering Amelia away. I wait until he has her safely upstairs before I move to Atlas. “What is it?”

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