Page 130 of Savage Saint
It was about birth. About the woman who would be born on the same day my mother died, destined to bring fire into my world and make me fall to my knees—not in defeat, but in something far more dangerous.
In love.
My mother always believed in fortune cookies, in the mystical power of those little slips of paper. Even when she was dying, even when the doctors had given up hope, she'd crack open those cookies and read the fortunes with absolute faith. "The universe speaks to us in whispers," she used to say. "We just have to learn how to listen."
I thought it was just the morphine talking. The desperate hope of a dying woman clinging to magic because medicine had failed her.
But looking at Kasia's birth certificate now, seeing that date staring back at me like a fucking neon sign, I can almost hear my mother's voice echoing through time. Her weak smile as she pressed that last fortune into my palm. "This one's all for you,Angelo mio," she'd whispered. "Keep it close. One day you'll understand it."
The time has come.
The universe didn't just whisper. It fucking screamed.
"Angelo?" Kasia's voice pulls me back from the edge of revelation. "You've gone pale. What's wrong?"
I force myself to focus on her face, on the concern clouding her blue eyes. She has no idea what this means, no idea that her existence was written in the stars. That fate would bring us together on this exact path, at this exact moment.
"Nothing's wrong," I manage to say, my voice rougher than I intended. "Everything's... everything's exactly as it should be."
She frowns, clearly not buying my deflection, but doesn't push. Instead, she carefully folds her birth certificate and tucks it back into the bag with the reverence of someone handling something precious.
"Strange to finally have proof," she murmurs. "Proof that I existed before him. That I was someone's daughter before I was his weapon."
You were always meant to be more than that,I think, the fortune burning against my chest like a brand.You were meant to be my salvation.
"So," Dante says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, "what's the plan when we land?"
"Home," I say immediately. "She needs rest."
"Angelo—" Dante starts, but I cut him off.
"She's been through enough. Whatever business needs handling can wait until tomorrow."
Kasia looks up at me, something soft and grateful in her expression. "Home sounds good," she says quietly.
And for the first time since she walked out of those flames, she sounds like she might actually believe it.
The rest of the flight passes in comfortable quiet. Kasia dozes fitfully against the window while Dante and Luca discuss business in low voices. I alternate between watching the landscape below and watching her, noting every small sign that she's starting to come back to herself.
When we begin our descent into Blackwood, she stirs, blinking slowly as she comes back to awareness.
"We're almost there," I tell her.
She nods, straightening in her seat. Through the window, the lights of our city spread out below us like fallen stars. Home. Safety. A chance to start over.
"Angelo?" she says as the wheels touch down.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad it's over. But I'm also glad you were there with me."
I reach across the aisle and take her hand, squeezing gently. "Always, Butterfly. I'll always be there."
She squeezes back, and in that simple gesture, I feel a shift between us. Not complete, not yet, but a beginning. A foundation we can build on when she's ready.
The jet rolls to a stop, and we prepare to disembark.
And when the stairs lower, I take Kasia's hand and walk with her side by side.
