Page 28 of No Saint

And that was terrifying. How easy it is for them to brush it away and forget about it.

So, I allow myself to cry because it reminds me that I am not a monster. I am not like them even if I have been forced to endure it.

The tears are still falling by the time I’ve washed and climbed from the bath, draining it. Wrapping myself in a towel, I step out into the bedroom and stop dead in my tracks.

Gabriel sits in the middle of my bed, Lincoln by his side.

He still wears his bloodied suit, but his hands are clean.

He looks over to me, eyes doing a slow once over of my body before he lands them on my face and a frown tugs on his dark brows.

“You’ve been crying.” He states.

“Wow,” I hiss, storming towards the dresser. I pull out the only pair of shorts inside and a cami. “You’re observant. Congratulations.”

“Why,Leonessa?”He asks with genuine curiosity.

“Why what?” I move back to the bathroom to change.

“Why do you cry?”

“Are you truly asking that, Gabriel?”

He cocks his head in a move that screamed predator, it was animalistic, belonging to more beast than man, one who has no clue how normal life should be. “Yes.”

I shake my head and refuse to answer, instead locking myself in the bathroom to change. My reflection stares back at me. How had this happened?

I should have left the moment I knew Lincoln existed inside of me, I should have left then.

The cuts around my wrists have scabbed, a little raw and red but of course no one saw these wounds at the ceremony, my dress sleeves had covered them. And of course, I had a new one to go with it now. The pain wasn’t too bad with it and I was sure that was because of the shot Devon had given me.

Exiting the bathroom, I find Gabriel still waiting though he stares at my son.

“You know,” he murmurs, “He looks a lot like Lucas did at this age, but he has your nose.”

I ignore his statement, “I’m tired, Gabriel.”

“You need clothes.” He glances over, taking in my legs, “I will arrange a car for you tomorrow.”

I nod, agreeing and he climbs up from the bed, taking a few steps towards me. I back up quickly, my spine hitting the chest of drawers. “You don’t have to hate me, Amelia.”

“Yes, I do.”

He searches my face, “We will see.”

13

My phone rings as the door closes behind me.

“Listening,” I answer, bringing it to my ear.

“You’re needed at the marina.”

“I don’t have time for this, Atlas,” I growl, “I have a fucking massacre to clean up.”

“What happened!?” He demands.

“The house was attacked just after the ceremony, seven dead, four wounded,” I sprout the numbers.

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