Page 138 of Saint

Declan looks back at me, scanning me. For someone I’ve always thought incapable of caring about anything but himself, he looks enraged by the cuts on my ribs.

Pulling my shirt down, I cover them up.

Saint and Declan turn to Brax, but when he starts to try and talk, they gag him like he did to me. They don’t want to hear his excuses any more than I do.

I watch as they heat the knife—as they draw three lines into his ribs. I watch as they cut off his eyelids when he tries to blink. I watch as they force him to stay awake through every bit of pain they inflict. Through every drop of blood they spill and every bit of flesh they cut off. And when I think it’s done, Declan slices open Brax’s pants in the front, and I look away when I realize what’s about to happen.

It's the one thing I can’t face, even if the guttural scream that rips out of Brax brands itself into my memory. A cry so deep it almost masks his ounce of flesh falling to the floor. His screams embed themselves in my mind until they turn to mumbles.

And then there’s only silence when I assume he bleeds out.

My eyes are still sealed shut when Saint makes his way back over to me. He blocks my view of Brax as he tips my chin to meet his gaze. Blood smears onto my skin where his thumb grazes it, and he says something, but I can’t hear him.

Sounds are fuzzy, and my body is numb.

I don’t look back as he helps me off the table and carries me out of the basement. Not even when I curl into his chest and release all the tears I thought had already found their way out.

I soak his shirt and let go. I let him save me once more.

My Saint.

44

Imperfections And All

Violet

Two Weeks Later

Some days, I can’tdecide what’s harder to survive—Braxton’s assault or the aftermath of it.

Maybe I should have walked out of the room when Kole gave me the option, but I knew I was right to stay.

Closure—I finally feel it.

Not that it stops the nightmares that wake me up at night. Memories of being tied down. Of being hurt. Being touched.

Brax taunted me with my fantasies like what he was doing was the same thing I ask of Saint. It wasn’t. He violated me by taking my choice away entirely. He removedmy option to fight back. He restrained me. He didn’t want to hurt me for pleasure; he was out for torture.

For pain.

Every time I look in the mirror, I’m haunted by the three marks Brax carved into my skin. Those three slashes are a reminder that I physically escaped him and his brother, but what they did to me will never truly disappear.

A knock at the bathroom door makes me jump.

I’ve been doing that a lot lately, even if I try to hide it.

Even if it’s over.

I can’t help it.

With Brax dead, Sigma House quietly took care of the rest. Kole and Declan exposed Brax and Liam as traitors, and in the eyes of the House, it was justification for any revenge they had taken. Kole and Declan had protected the fraternity—the brotherhood—and that’s all that mattered in the end.

Kole’s stepfather closed the missing person’s case quietly, and Oliver Westwood dropped out of the race against Ian Pierce. The Westwoods left town, even if their name is still on half the buildings downtown.

It all seems so simple for things that aren’t.

On the outside, everything is over. People have answers that are easy to accept, and the world moves on. But for those of us in that room that night, I’m not sure things will ever be the same.

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