Page 70 of Made for Saints

Rocco’s expression darkened, his grin vanishing like smoke in the wind. He nodded once, setting his glass downwith a deliberate motion before standing.

“Something wrong?” I asked, my tone casual but my senses on high alert.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Rocco said, his voice tight. “Just some business I need to take care of.”

“Business?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I thought tonight was supposed to be bullshit-free.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Plans change.”

I stood, my chair scraping against the floor as I stepped closer. “You need help?”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to me before shaking his head. “Nah. It’s nothing. Just some idiot who doesn’t know when to quit.”

I didn’t believe him, not for a second. But I also knew better than to push. Rocco might have been family, but he was also proud. Stubborn. And if he wanted my help, he’d ask for it.

“Alright,” I said, my tone neutral. “But if it’s not handled by the time I finish this drink, I’m stepping in.”

He smirked, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Deal.”

As he walked away, I turned back to the table, my mind racing.

Chapter 24

Emilia

The night air was heavy with the scent of rain-soaked pavement, the kind of oppressive humidity that clung to your skin and made every breath feel like a chore. I slipped out of the side gate of the estate, the soft rustle of leaves overhead masking the sound of my footsteps. My father’s guards were stationed at the front entrance, as predictable as ever, but I wasn’t about to risk them spotting me. Not tonight.

I’d planned this escape with the precision of a heist—an Uber ordered under a fake name, a meeting point two blocks down the street, and my phone set to silent to avoid any unwanted calls. My heart raced as I crept through the shadows, the adrenaline buzzing in my veins like a second heartbeat.

This was stupid. Reckless. Dangerous.

And yet, I couldn’t stop myself.

The Uber was already waiting when I reached the corner, its headlights cutting through the darkness like twin beacons. I slid into the backseat, pulling the hood of my jacket up to obscure my face. The driver, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, barely glanced at me as I muttered a quick greeting.

“Amanda?” he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

"Yes." I nodded.

I confirmed with him the address of the bar, my voice steady despite the nervous energy thrumming beneath my skin. He nodded and pulled away from the curb, the car rolling smoothly through the quiet streets.

As the city lights blurred past the window, I tried to ignore the gnawing unease in my chest. Sneaking out like this was becoming a habit, one that I couldn’t seem to break.

The car came to a stop outside the bar, its neon sign casting a garish glow over the cracked sidewalk. I thanked the driver before slipping out of the car and pulling my hood down as I approached the entrance. The bouncer gave me a once-over before nodding me through, his expression bored.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke, the bass of the music vibrating through the floorboards. The crowd was already in full swing, bodies pressed together on the dance floor and voices raised in drunken laughter. I scanned the room, searching for Adrianna’s familiar face.

I found her at the bar, perched on a stool with a cocktail in hand. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, and her baby pink dress clung to her curves in a way that made heads turn. She spotted me before I could call out, her face lighting up with a smile as she waved me over.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a quick hug. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Sorry,” I said, forcing a smile as I slid onto the stool beside her. “Got held up.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. “Let me guess—your father’s guards?”

“Something like that,” I muttered, signaling the bartender for a drink.

Adrianna laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for a moment, I forgot what it was like to live in cages like ours.

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