Page 46 of Made for Saints

Every punch, every blow, was a release—a way to channel the storm of rage burning inside me.

This wasn’t just about James. It wasn’t even about his disgusting comments. This was abouther. About Emilia. About the way she made me feel—vulnerable, exposed, and completely out of control.

By the time I stepped back, James was a crumpled heap on the floor, his face bloodied and bruised. He let out a weak groan, his body trembling as he tried to crawl away.

I loomed over him, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt with deliberate care, as if I hadn’t just beaten him into the floor. “Consider this your only warning,” I said, my voice low and final. “The next time you eventhinkabout disrespecting a woman, I won’t stop.”

James whimpered, nodding frantically, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “I—I swear, man. I won’t. I swear.”

I turned away, my gaze scanning the shop. It was eerily quiet now, the sound of James’s labored breaths the only thingbreaking the silence. My eyes landed on the security cameras mounted in the corners of the room, the little red lights blinking steadily.

Of course, there were cameras. Idiot.

I strode toward the counter, where the monitor and DVR sat tucked beneath the register. James watched me, his swollen face contorting in confusion as I crouched down and yanked the device free.

“W-what are you doing?” he slurred, his voice barely audible.

I shot him a dark look that made him immediately shrink back. “Cleaning up your mess,” I said flatly, holding the DVR in one hand as I scanned the shop for anything I might have missed.

James didn’t dare say another word.

I pulled the hard drive free and grabbed the bundle of tapes stacked beside it—backup recordings, no doubt. Tucking them under my arm, I straightened, giving James one more cold glance.

“If anyone asks,” I said, my tone calm but laced with warning, “this didn’t happen. Understand?”

He nodded weakly, blood smearing across his chin as he wiped at his face.

Satisfied, I turned and walked out of the shop, the hard drive and tapes tucked securely under my arm. The rain greeted me as I stepped outside, the cool droplets hitting my face and washing away some of the lingering heat from the encounter.

But even as I walked to my car, my mind wasn’t on James. It was on Emilia.

Her name lingered in my thoughts like a whisper, a shadow I couldn’t shake. She had no idea what kind of chaos she stirred inside me, the way she unraveled pieces of me I didn’t even know were loose.

Emilia was waiting by the car, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared at me with wide eyes.

“Dante, what did you—”

“Get in the car,” I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.

I opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as I stared out at the rain. It wasn’t just James’s words that had set me off tonight. It was the thought of anyone thinking they could look at her that way, speak to her that way. She didn’t belong to them.

She belonged to me.

I exhaled sharply, trying to push the thought away, but it clung to me, wrapping itself around my mind like a vise. Emilia was a complication I didn’t need, a distraction I couldn’t afford.

But she was also mine.

And God help anyone who tried to take her from me.

She hesitated for a moment before finally climbing into the passenger seat. I slid into the driver’s seat, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins as I started the engine.

The drive was silent, the tension between us thick and suffocating.

But as I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, I knew one thing for certain.

She wasn’t just a distraction anymore.

She was an obsession.

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