Page 23 of No Saint

“You’re referencing what happened to you and your brother.”

“That was a long time ago, Gabriel. We’ve moved on.”

“When was the last time you saw your mother?”

He remains quiet.

“That’s right,” I say, “She didn’t want you. When my father rocked up when you turned six and took you, she let you go. We saved you.”

“And you think you’re saving her?”

“She wouldn’t let the boy go.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, “This will ruin you, Gabriel.”

My brows draw down, “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, “Continuing these traditions.”

“These traditions have kept us Saints on top. The traditions are what gave you and your brother a better fucking life, Atlas. My father could have left you to rot in that damn hell holeshehad you in, but he didn’t.”

“You should have killed her.” He growls under his breath, “because someone else will and I’m sure death by your hand would be far kinder than what any of your enemies would have planned.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know things haven’t been smooth for months, Gabriel. Months. Your brother is missing, likely dead, you’re being hit at every angle. People are trying to force you out. And now you bring in a child and a woman not fit enough to protect herself from anyone.”

“Including you?” I grit, finger twitching towards the weapon tucked beneath my jacket.

Atlas cocks a brow, “She got lucky yesterday with Devon and Asher, but when put to the test, you think she’ll survive?”

“She isn’t your problem.”

“They’re always my fucking problem.”

“Who the fu–”

“Gabriel!” My mother cuts me off, “You have to get ready! It’s almost time!”

“Good luck with your nuptials brother, I’m sure you’ll need it.” Atlas growls under his breath before walking off to his car which he promptly gets in and speeds from the property, tires spitting back gravel and dust.

My mother pays no mind to him. Not that she ever did. Asher stands in the door, eyes following the speeding car. They weren’t my fucking problem today.

I’d purposely planned for the wedding to be high profile. City officials and high society members. I needed them to see Amelia, see her as my wife and thus making her untouchable. They wouldn’t talk to her, question her. She was mine.

A Saint.

As was her son.

I head through to the house, ignoring the caterers and staff that manically file through the halls and rooms before heading to my room to change. Forty-five minutes to go.

Forty-five minutes until she waspermanentlymine.

Devon stands at the side, bearing witness, the rings in his pocket. Atlas was missing but Asher was here, stood just behind Devon.

My mother cradles Lincoln in her lap, sat in the row at the front. Every chair was filled but there were no cameras. I did not permit them.

Music begins to play softly from the speakers set up around the ceremony, hidden by bouquets of flowers wrapped in white ribbon.

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