Page 104 of Savage Saint
My hands won't stop shaking as I face Angelo, the weight of the truth sitting heavy on my tongue. His eyes are dark with anger, but there's something else there too. Hurt. I did that. I put that there.
The bag with clothes and weapons hangs from my shoulder. The cash stuffed inside my jacket feels heavy. I was so close to slipping away into the night, to handling Jerzy on my own terms. But fate, or maybe just Angelo's sixth sense, had other plans.
"Before you go anywhere," Angelo's voice is dangerously soft, "you're going to tell me everything. No more lies, Butterfly." The nickname makes me flinch. I don't deserve that tenderness.
I set the bag down slowly, my fingers reluctant to release the strap. Running isn't an option right now. Not with Angelo blocking the stairs, his massive frame somehow filling the entire space, making escape impossible.
"Fine." The word comes out hoarse, broken. "You want the truth? Here it is."
The words pour out like blood from a wound. Working with Nico. Being sent to infiltrate the Santoros. My mission to destroythem from within. Each confession feels like tearing off a piece of my skin.
"I was never in that container by accident," I say, unable to meet his eyes. "It was all staged. I was supposed to be your perfect victim, someone you'd want to save, to protect. Someone you'd trust."
Angelo's face grows harder with each revelation, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. But he doesn't interrupt, doesn't move. Just watches me destroy everything we've built.
"The brand, the bruises, the memory loss—it was all part of the plan. The memory loss wasn't supposed to happen, though. I was in that container too long. Nico was supposed to check on me, but he never came. The dehydration, the infection... It made me forget. But now I remember everything."
I look up, expecting to see disgust, betrayal, rage. Instead, his eyes are unnervingly calm, like the eye of a hurricane.
"I was supposed to make you trust me," my voice breaks. "To find your weaknesses. To..." I can't finish. The thought of hurting him makes me physically ill.
"And did you?" His voice is empty. "Find our weaknesses?" The question hits like a physical blow.
I take a shaky breath, steeling myself for what comes next. There's no going back now.
"Yes," I whisper. "Your biggest weakness is how much you love your family. How far you'd go to protect them." Tears blur my vision. "Just like me."
I sink down onto the bottom step, my legs no longer able to support me. The memory crashes over me, my real father's face, my mother's voice, the smell of burning.
"Jerzy isn't my father," I choke out. "He killed my parents. My real parents. He's my uncle."
Something shifts in Angelo's expression. He takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "Tell me."
The story spills out. The fire, my screams, Jerzy taking me, moulding me into his weapon. With each word, his control over me weakens, shatters, falls away.
"My father, my real father, was Tomasz Kowalczyk. Jerzy's brother. They both loved my mother, but she chose my dad. We were happy, the three of us. I remember now. I remember her singing to me in Polish. I remember my dad teaching me to ride a bike."
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces together.
"Jerzy came to our house one night. He'd been drinking. He and my father argued. I was hiding, watching through the small opening in the door. Jerzy shot him. Just... Pulled out a gun and shot him. My mother screamed. She tried to reason with him, but he stopped her. He—" My voice breaks. "He made me watch as he killed her too."
Angelo doesn't speak, but he moves closer, his presence both intimidating and strangely comforting.
"He took me that night. Told me my mother was a whore and that both my parents died in an accident. Burned the house down with them inside. Raised me as his own. Trained me to be his perfect weapon."
The weight of these memories is crushing. How could I have forgotten something so terrible? How could my mind have protected me from this for so long?
"That's why I have to go," I finish, my voice raw. "I'm a danger to you, to your family. And I have to make him pay for what he did to mine."
Angelo moves so fast I barely register it. His hands cup my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You're not going anywhere alone," he growls. "You're right, family is my weakness. I'd doanything for those I love." He looks deeply into my eyes. "For you."
My breath catches. For me? After everything I've just confessed?
"You're mine now. And we'll make him pay together." The possessiveness in his voice should frighten me. Instead, it feels like coming home.
"But I was sent to kill you," I whisper, needing him to understand the gravity of what I've done. "I've been lying to you from the start."
"And yet here I am, still breathing." His thumbs brush away tears I didn't know I was shedding. "You've had plenty of chances to kill me, Butterfly. You could have slit my throat in my sleep. Poisoned my food. Put a bullet in my head during any of our training sessions."
