Page 112 of Saints and Sinners

I can't make out who the body belongs to from this angle. All I see is the top of the guy's brown hair, but something in my gut starts to churn, and the three of us step closer. Our movement is slow, so as not to freak Catalina out any more than she is.

Her head snaps back to us, “I swear, I didn't know!” she repeats herself.

Moving around, so we are now standing over the bloody, cut-up body, I'm in total shock. I stare down at the guy, and now I know why my Kitty Cat is freaking out. My brain is in overdrive trying to figure out why I'm looking at what I'm looking at.

“What the fuck?” Fynn growls, making Kitty Cat jump.

I quickly step over the body and pull my Kitty Cat into my arms, “Shh, it's okay. You did good; we're not mad, I promise.”

“B-But...”

“No, Lina,” Jett scowls, “If you hadn't killed him, we would have.” Fynn and I both nod in agreement.

“I don't understand, though. Why was he part of this? It makes no sense.” Catalina states.

“I don't know, but you better believe we will find out.” I kiss her temple and then stare down at the bloody remains of our very own Frat brother, Brett.

Catalina

They all assure methat they aren’t mad at me for killing one of their Frat brothers, so I begin to calm myself. Oakley is holding me tightly, and as soon as I start to relax, the pain in my side begins to burn, and I hiss. I try pulling away, but the Lord refuses to let me go.

“Please, Oakley. You’re hurting me...” I pant.

He jerks away from me quickly, and I show him my wounded side. The carving is covered by the bandage I have wrapped around my midsection, but his eyes widen regardless, “What’s wrong? How are you hurt?”

“He stabbed me in the side with a scalpel.”

“Jesus, Cat! Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Oakley’s use of my real name tells me that I fucked up.

“I’m sorry. I forgot all about it once I saw his face,” I stare back at Brett’s body.

“Come on,” Oakley helps me to stand, “We need to get you back to the Frat House and have Dr. Halsey come and look at you.”

“What about him?” I ask and try to look back, but Oakley doesn’t allow it. When I cry out from trying to walk, I hear a curse.

“Fuck this!” I’m scooped up into Fynn’s arms and carried from the room.

“I can walk. It will just have to be slow,” I say, but they all ignore me.

“I’ll call my Uncle Tyler and have him take care of this,” Fynn states, “He may want to talk to Little Saint if he wants to call it self-defense. He will only do that if there is no other way of covering it up.” He isn’t talking to me directly, so I don’t say anything more.

I can feel Fynn’s body shake as he carries me. Whether it’s out of anger or adrenaline, I don’t know, so I rest my head in the crook of his neck while wrapping my arms around it, “Thank you for coming for me,” I whisper, thinking it’s what he needs right now to help calm him.

“Why wouldn’t we come for you? We will come every time,” he pauses briefly, “It’s in the contract, is it not?”

I stiffen in his arms at his words. They sting. Here I thought the Lords were beginning to feel something for me, but that may not be the case at all. They may only be fulfilling the contract we have.

“I can walk now. Please put me down,” I tell Fynn, but he again ignores my request. “If all I am is a stupid contract, then fine, you have fulfilled it by coming for me. There is no need to carry me,” I growl.

Nobody says anything as we approach Jett’s Jeep, and Fynn gets in, keeping me in his arms. In fact, I swear he’s holding me against him even tighter. Some of the anguish subsides when I realize something. These bad boys are too prideful to admit their feelings to anyone. I may be wrong, but I genuinely believe that the Lords of Sin like me, even if it’s just a little. Smiling smugly, I rest my head on Fynn’s shoulder and finally relax; they’ve got me.

Imust have fallenasleep at some point because I wake up in Fynn’s bed feeling groggy as hell. When I try to get up, a slight pain stretches across my side, and I yank the covers off to examine my side. My brows furrow when I find myself without a stitch of clothes and a fresh bandage.

My breath hitches when I realize I also have a new one on my midsection. They’ve seen the carving. Laying back, I close my eyes and swallow hard. I can only imagine what their reaction was. Peeking under the side bandage, I notice the stitches and know Dr. Halsey has already been here. How in the fuck did they stitch me up without me knowing?

Then it hits me. The fuckers drugged me...knocked me out, so they could patch me up. They knew I would fight them, so they wouldn’t see the carving, and that’s why they did it...assholes. I guess there isn’t much I can do about it now.

I climb from the bed and go to Fynn’s closet to find something to wear. Grabbing the first shirt hanging up, I throw the dark gray AC/DC T-shirt over my head and let it drop to the middle of my thighs. I love that it smells like him.

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