Page 127 of Savage Saint
I move towards Kasia, noting how she flinches slightly when I reach for her. Not from fear, from exhaustion. From the bone-deep weariness that comes after a lifetime of carrying too much weight finally ends.
"You okay?" I ask softly.
She nods slowly. "I think so," she whispers, and her voice sounds so young, so lost. "I just... I thought I'd feel different. Thought I'd feel... free."
I understand. Death doesn't bring the closure people expect. Doesn't erase the pain or heal the scars overnight. The chains are gone, but she still feels their weight. That's trauma for you. It lingers like smoke long after the fire's out.
"Freedom isn't a feeling," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her temple. Her skin tastes of gunpowder and bonfire. "It's a choice. And you just chose it."
She looks back at the burning house one last time, taking in the scene. The life she's leaving behind. Then she straightens her shoulders and takes my hand. Her fingers intertwine with mine, warm and alive and free.
"Can we stop for ice cream on the way back?"
I bark out a laugh, surprised. "Ice cream? You just killed your uncle and burnt his whole operation to the ground and you want ice cream?"
"Strawberry," she says firmly. "With chocolate chips. I never got to choose my own ice cream flavour before. Seems like a good place to start."
Fuck, I love this woman.
"Come on," I say, my hand squeezing hers. "Let's go home."
She nods mechanically and lets me guide her to the SUV. As we drive away from the burning compound, she retreats back into her shell. I catch glimpses of her face in the rearview mirror. She's staring out the window, watching her past turn to ash and smoke, but there's no satisfaction in her expression. No relief.
Just emptiness.
The private airfield is quiet when we arrive, our jet waiting on the tarmac like a promise of escape. But as we climb the steps, I notice Kasia stumble slightly, her hand gripping the rail tighter than necessary.
"You alright?" I ask, steadying her with a hand on her elbow.
"Fine," she says automatically. "Just tired."
But I know tired, and this isn't it. This is the crash that comes after running on pure determination for too long. The moment when your body and mind finally admit they can't carry you any further.
Inside the jet, she settles into one of the leather seats and immediately curls into herself, arms wrapped around her knees like armour. Dante and Luca take seats near the front, giving us space, but I can feel their concern radiating across the cabin.
"She needs time to process," Dante says quietly when I join them. "What she just did, killing the man who controlled her entire life, that's not something you bounce back from immediately."
"Even if he deserved it," Luca adds, his usual humour tempered with rare seriousness. "Taking a life changes you. Especially when it's personal."
I know they're right, but watching her sit there so small and broken makes something savage claw at my chest. I want to fix it, want to take her pain and make it disappear, but this isn't something I can solve with violence or money or power.
This is something she has to work through herself.
But that doesn't mean I have to let her do it alone.
"I'll be right back," I tell my brothers, moving towards the jet's small galley.
I make a quick call to our contact at the airfield. Twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the jet door, and a young guy in a delivery uniform hands over a bag full of ice cream containers, every flavour they had at the convenience store.
"Special delivery for the lady," I announce, setting the bag down beside Kasia's seat.
She looks up at me with confusion clouding her blue eyes. "What's this?"
"Strawberry with chocolate chips," I say, pulling out the container. "And vanilla, and chocolate, and mint choc chip, and—" I keep pulling out containers. "—basically everything they had. Figured you might want options for your first real choice."
Something flickers across her face. Surprise, maybe, or the ghost of pleasure. She takes the strawberry ice cream with careful hands, like it might disappear if she's not gentle enough.
"You did this for me?" she whispers.
