Page 121 of The Devil's Saint

“My children, you must stop this,” the priest implores, placing himself in between Ian and us, his voice drowned out by various men cocking their guns, so he raises it. “Put your weapons away.” His open-palmed hand extends in a slow, rhythmic motion, attempting to calm the escalating situation. “Violence has no place within these sacred walls. We can all…”

Pop, pop, pop.

Gunfire erupts, cutting short the priest’s plea. I scream as bullets find their mark, painting Jordin’s dress with splotches of blood as the priest falls backward, his lifeless body landing heavily on my foot.

Jordin, quick to react, helps me free myself, and then we scramble for cover as gunfire breaks out, but my dress catches on something, sending me tumbling to the ground.

“Lexy!” Saint’s voice roars amidst the spray of bullets that just missed him; his desperation echoes through my screaming as he watches a ruthless hand yank me to my feet with a firm grip on my hair, a cold pistol pressed against my temple.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Owl sneers, backing us up alongside Ian to protect him, his grip pulling out my blonde roots, forcing a scream from my lips.

I watch in horror as Saint, Colton, Caleb, Chains, and their men fight behind walls and statues that are now pockmarked with bullet holes from the constant attack. A scream tears from my throat as my hands cover my ears. I shield my face with my elbows as all around me, wooden pews splinter and explode while shots are fired back at Ian and his men.

“STOP SHOOTING. STOP FUCKING SHOOTING!” Saint roars to his men, ordering them to stop firing their weapons. “They have Lexy! Stop fucking shooting!”

The ceaseless gunfire gradually abated as Saint’s command echoed through the tumult, giving way to an eerie quiet, broken only by the occasional moan of pain from fallen men or the creaking of damaged pews. I feel a mixture of relief and dread – relief that the shooting had stopped and dread for what might come next.

Please, God, let us all make it out of this alive. Please. I’ll do anything.

“Put your guns on the floor where I can see them, or I swear I’ll blow her fucking brains all over the altar.”

“Get your fucking hands off her!” Saint’s roar reverberates, but Owl laughs unfazed.

“You’re in no position to tell me what to do. I don’t work for you anymore, boy. I never did,” he hisses, his betrayal hanging heavy.

“Whoever you work for is of no consequence anymore. Just let Lexy go.”

“If you want her that badly. Then come out and get her.”

“Fine. I’m coming out.”

“Saint, no!” I cry, watching him step out from the cover of the massive Virgin Mary statue that is littered with bullet holes, his gun thrown to the ground, and his hands raised in the air. “Don’t!” I scream, terrified that either Owl or Ian will kill him.

Owl’s grip on my hair tightens, and I wince in pain at his force when he snaps my head back to drive his point home. “Shut your mouth, bitch.”

“Easy,” Saint spits through gritted teeth.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let her go, Owl,” Chains implores, his gun aimed toward his brother. “You don’t want to do this. Don’t make me kill you.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, little brother. I do want to do this. I’ve picked my side. You’ve picked yours. If that makes us enemies,” he shrugs, “Then so be it.”

“You want me?” Saint yells, his hand still held high in surrender. “Then here I am. You don’t need her. Let her go.”

Owl’s grin is malicious. “This bitch was promised to me by Eric, and I’m taking what I’m owed.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” Saint roars before addressing Ian. “Ian, let her go,” he pleads. “You can kill me. Then it’s over. There will be no more rival families left to fight. You will have control of everything. Just let them all go.”

My eyes pleaded with Saint to allow Owl to take me. At least then, we can all have a chance to make it out alive. If Saint lets me go, he could still find me, but it was too late. I can see it in the way he looks at me. He was ready to die for me.

“Let her go,” Saint sneers, stepping toward Owl, but he fires a warning shot at Saint’s feet, halting his tracks.

Ian turns toward the door, but not before motioning to Owl and telling his men, “Bring the girl. Kill the rest.”

Logan and Lucas’s protests fall on deaf ears as Ian’s men raise their guns, shooting at anyone in sight.

My arms swing and my legs kick as I fight to get out of Owl’s stronghold, hearing Saint yell that he loves me, threatening Owl that he will find me, and when he does, he is going to kill him slowly, slicing him open one piece at a time and feeding him his own intestines to keep him alive until he’s done with him.

Suddenly, the church doors swing open, and Ian stops.

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