Page 122 of The Devil's Saint

“Stand down!” An authoritative voice booms through the room. Behind the man are dozens of armed men, guns trained on Ian and his crew.

“Dad!” Lucas exclaims, hope flickering in his eyes.

“About fucking time,” Saint yells in hope.

“You’re surrounded. There’s nowhere for you to go,” Marcus declares, his eyes and gun fixed on Ian.

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out of my way, boy!” Ian bellows at his son, but Marcus remains unmoved.

“I know what you did to Viola. I know you killed her and made it look like it was the Irish when it wasn’t.” He takes a step further. “I know you found out I helped my sister escape you. Then you had me set up for a murder I didn’t commit as punishment against your own son.”

Ian denies everything. “Lies. All of it lies. I would never do that to my own kin.”

Marcus shakes his head, “You made a deal with Eric to marry my niece to his son. Then you had everyone standing in your way killed the night of her party. You were working with Eric all along.”

Blood rushes to my ears, and the world around me spins.

Ian and Eric were the ones responsible for that night? The reason my baby…

My eyes fix on Ian as I address him. “It was you? You slaughtered a room full of people! You…” My chin wobbles as I look at Saint, knowing that finding out this way will hurt him. My hand reaches for my stomach. All self-preservation leaves my body as my eyes return to Ian, and tears stream down my face until my vision turns red with hatred. “You bastard. You killed my baby. My baby is dead because of you!”

A cry I’ve never heard before leaves my body, and I hear Saint let out a guttural roar, his heartbreak and fury matching my own. The gunfight starts up again as Saint grabs his gun. Only this time Ian has two men fighting for him. The rest stand with Marcus.

In that critical moment, my survival instincts kick in. I don’t think; I act, drawing upon the self-defense skills Colton taught me not long ago. Adrenaline surges, heightening my senses as I take a decisive step forward, leveraging my body weight to disrupt Owl’s advance. Owl moves with me, and then I slam the heel of my stiletto hard into his foot, causing him to howl. My head rears back without pause, colliding with Owl’s face, the impact reverberating through us both.

“FUCK!” Owl falls back on his ass, spitting out teeth and mouthfuls of blood. His nose also appears to be broken, streaming with blood. That’s the last of his worries.

Finally free, I charge at Ian for killing my unborn child, not caring that I’m weaponless. Ian see’s me coming. Turning his gun on me, he squeezes the trigger and fires before I can reach him.

Colton yells my name, and then something hard hits me, knocking me into a row of pews before I hit the ground hard, and pain floods my body.

Turning my head, I lay on the ground, watching in slow motion as Ian’s body is pumped with bullets from Saint’s gun, and he falls to the ground in a bloodied heap.

“LEXY!” I hear Saint’s voice call my name over the blood rushing to my ears.

“Angel! Can you hear me?” Saint is on me instantly, lifting my chest to his, cradling my head in his broad arms. “Somebody help me. Call a fucking ambulance.”

It’s not my blood on his hands. That’s not my blood.

I pull away from his chest to look around the room. “Saint. That’s not my blood.”

My head pounds from where I hit it on the floor, and bile rises in my throat when I see Colton lying on the ground, not moving, not breathing, with Caleb and Jordin huddled above him. Caleb’s hands move up and down on his chest as Jordin pinches his nose and blows air into his lungs in a desperate attempt to bring him back.

The church floor feels cold and unforgiving as I drag myself toward Colton’s lifeless body. My hands shake, and shards of glass and debris bite into my palms as I reach for him, clutching his hand, his usually vibrant eyes dulled.

“NO. NO. NO. Oh god, please, no. Not Colton. Please! Please! Just breathe. Breathe.” Blood absorbed into the fabric of his white shirt and spread quickly.

Marcus wraps his arms protectively around Jordin as Saint takes over, tilting Colton’s chin and forcing two deep breaths into Colton’s lungs.

“C’mon, Colton. C’mon. Don’t give up on me now, brother. Fight!” Caleb yells, pumping his interlocked palms harder into his bloodied chest as sirens sound out nearby, letting us know help is close. His hands work tirelessly, each compression a plea to bring his brother back from the brink.

“They’re almost here, Colton. Please don’t leave me. We can all be a family now, and I need you with me.” The tears fall faster down my face. “You have so much to hold on for. Please stay with us! Please.” The words leave my lips as a desperate mantra, calling louder to bridge the gap between life and death, praying he could hear me.

The world around us slows as Colton’s stillness presses upon us, his fate hanging in the balance as we cling to the fraying threads of hope.

“Colton, please don’t give up,” Saint clamors. “Come back!”

Moments pass when someone shouts, “I’ve got a pulse.”

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