Page 122 of That Sik Luv

My eyes spring open, but the man I’d assumed would save me is doing no such thing. He’s cursing to himself at the window, peering down at something or someone outside, typing quickly on a cellphone now in his hand.

But I don’t need him to save me.

He’s trained me to save myself.

With careful fingers, I grip the scalpel blade from the bedpost where he planted it. Twisting my wrist painfully, I slice the string of the rosary as Saint remains lost in the satisfaction of his unknowing demise. With my free hand, I hold the blade up to his neck before he can finish. He pauses in place, planted firmly within me as his lips part, and he sucks in a terrified breath.

“Briony,” he says breathlessly before looking down at the place we’re connected. “No.” He shakes his head, pulling out of me. His stiff, wet cock bobs between us as he sits back on his heels, burying his face in his hands. “No. What have I done to myself?”

To myself?

Panic floods his wilted form as Aero’s deep voice from the corner purrs, “You sinned.”

Aero steps away from the window, a satisfied grin sliding across his face at Saint’s disconcerting tone. Saint’s kind blue eyes now hold an unfamiliar weight to them as he studies me in silent anger. Seconds later, there’s a loud commotion coming from downstairs before the door behind us bursts open. Saint is torn from me and thrown to the floor, his pants still pulled down to his thighs. I’m staring with shock and awe, my legs crossed the best they can be as I pull my skirt back down with my free hand and adjust my bra back over my breasts to cover myself.

But the man who saved me isn’t the one I’d assumed it would be. The man who is currently pummeling Saint’s face into the wooden floor of my room is the last one I was expecting to see.

Baret.

Chapter fifty-three

Giving Them a Villain

“Whatthefuckwereyou doing to her?!”

Baret lands another punch to Saint’s jaw, sending it snapping to the side and the bright red blood of his split lip to splatter across the wood floor, giving my brother dearest everything I’ve been dying to.

“You sick bastard!” he yells again, sending a knee into his abdomen.

I race to Briony, helping to untie the belt still wrapped around her ankle while they continue to wrestle on the floor. Saint lands a punch to Baret’s face, causing his nose to crack. Briony is trembling with terror, attempting to steady her breaths, yet frightened by the unknown as she rubs her red and raw little wrists.

I was waiting for him to show up after planning the accidental intrusion all along. When I texted him from Briony’s phone stating that Saint was there at the house with her alone, acting strange, she was still entertaining him downstairs. I’d been waiting for him to show up and put a stop to the assault after gaining the footage we needed, knowing her cry for help would have him running.

He may not be her blood, but he’s grown up with her. Bonded the way true family does. He cares for her like a brother should, and even if I’d rather have her only depending on me in this life, Baret is essential for the plan. She needs someone else close to her on the inside when I’m gone.

Nox was right. The masked man couldn’t stay hidden forever. One way or another, my truth was bound to be exposed. I’ve come this far staying in the shadows, but secrets can’t stay buried forever. Not when men like my father, Alastor, and the bishop still walk this earth.

Briony instinctively clings to me, but I push her off, tossing her hands to the floor. Not because I don’t want her touch this time, but because new eyes are watching.

My beautiful doll, dark in her revenge and twisted ideas. She’d had Saint in her grasp. Taunting and teasing with her gorgeous beauty and naïve, faked innocence. But the truth of the man before her was far from her knowledge. She had no idea of his own devious plans, nor would she believe me if I told her.

Some things need to be discovered for yourself so you can form your own truths around them, similar to the secrets behind the closed doors of the bishop’s office.

Saint wasn’t who she thought he was. So I did what I needed to do and intervened the best way I saw fit. Together, we made it happen. Together, we laid the blueprint for the destruction of the institution. Together, we would bring them down.

What I wasn’t planning were the men on the heels of Baret, ready to shut this entire production down. Saint, the ultimate manipulator, had backup on standby.

“It wasn’t me!” Saint grunts, sending another fist into Baret’s face in retaliation.

I stand there casually watching the men duke it out, knocking into Briony’s dresser in the process and sending her framed photos and perfumes crashing onto the floor while I brace myself for the ultimate confrontation. The one I hear making its way up the stairs.

Baret rolls over Saint, crunching over the broken glass, and grabs his shirt with one hand. Straddling him, he sends another blow to his face. Crimson-colored blood stains the bright white uniform of the man thought to be pure and holy, but his sainthood is dissolving.

“I fucking saw you, you bitch!”

“You didn’t see anything.” The familiar, deep, velvety tone rings out from the hallway, making my blood boil on command.

Baret snaps his head up, his fist still gripping Saint’s torn uniform, both men panting with the evidence of their brawl actively leaking from their faces. Briony’s eyes widen in horror at the sudden intrusion as she scrambles from the bed, standing before me as if to protect me.

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