Page 253 of Satan's Spawn
Saint is too busy at Vladimir’s side baiting him, his gaze locked on him like a standing snake. It’s a terrifying side of him I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.
Although, it seems Alexis is giving him a run on the Jekyll/Hyde impersonations.
“Do everyone a favor and get the fuck outta here, yeah?” Archer says to Alexis in a tone that screams “you’re a fucking lunatic”. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Cuz I’m skipping my grandfather and calling the police.”
Crayton and Saint are still threatening Vladimir with deadly weapons, but even they know now is not the time to act.
Which works out in our favor because Saint’s coach is beelining for us.
“What the hell is going on here Lavell?!” Balkan hollers from the bottom of the bleachers, making both Crayton and Saint ease up the intimidation.
Saint snaps back in an instant, like a light switch turned on, and he spins his brass knuckles around his finger before stuffing them in his pocket.
Crayton shoves the gun into Vladimir’s chest, allowing him to retrieve it. “Deal with him or I will,” he mutters to Saint regarding his football coach.
“All good, coach!” Saint bellows back, making Alexis blink a few times, as if waking from a trance similar to his.
Her smile turns rancid as she faces me. “Mark my words, Shore Whore. I will never let you fucking have him.”
My entire body hums with rage as I clap back an “I already fucking do.”
Alexis keeps her beady eyes on me, beckoning her guards with another Russian command, and they move like a unit to her side.
With resolve sweeping over her face, Alexis flips her hair over a shoulder and turns to saunter off, Vlad and his partner following closely at her back.
“What the actual fuck was that about?” Hendrix looks between the six of us, awaiting an explanation nobody has.
Well, except Crayton, because he doesn’t look surprised by Alexis’ behavior at all.
* * *
My legs are burningfrom exhaustion as I make my third lap around the track without stopping.
Everyone but Crayton dispersed shortly after the standoff with Alexis: Archer and Hendrix handling damage control, Riggs and Levi off to get high on God knows what, and Saint disappeared shortly after Crayton spilled the proverbial beans to us.
Crayton did his best to keep up with my sprint, but not even he is powerful enough to take on the wrath of female adrenaline.
I’m angry, but it’s not only at Alexis.
Crayton’s been keeping an entire war between him and her from me. I feel betrayed.
He could’ve told me from the beginning she’s the one who took the knife. If not me, at least Saint.
Why he feels the need to self suffer all the time is beyond me. Well, not completely since he had to endure it for so long as a kid.
But he’s not a kid anymore, and I had a right to know I was being threatened.
Despite the burn, I pick up my pace, hoping a little physical pain will replace the emotional one.
When I reach the bleachers again, where Crayton has been waiting not so patiently for me to come down from my mania, he barks out for me to stop.
Against my better judgment I do.
But only because I think my legs are about to break.
“What?” I snap, resting my hands on my knees.
“I did this shit to protect you, to keep you out of it.”
