Page 131 of Savage Saint
I don't expect the bullets to start flying.
I don't expect her to shout "No!" then push me out of the way and take one for me.
I don't expect any of it.
43
KASIA
The jet wheels touch down with a soft thud, and my chest loosens for the first time since we left the burning compound behind. Home. The word feels foreign in my mouth, but when I look at Angelo's profile in the dim cabin light, something warm unfurls in my stomach. Perhaps this is what home feels like. Not a place, but a person.
I stretch in the leather seat, my muscles protesting from the tension I've been carrying. The strawberry ice cream container sits empty in my lap, a small symbol of the freedom I'm still learning to claim. Such a simple thing, choosing my own flavour, but it felt monumental. The first real choice I've made in years that was purely mine.
Angelo rises from his seat, and I watch the way he moves—controlled, predatory, beautiful. My stomach flutters with the memory of his hands on my skin, the way he whispered my name like a prayer. Whatever happens next, whatever comes after this, I want more of that. More of him.
"Ready to go home, Butterfly?" he asks, extending his hand to me.
The nickname makes my heart skip. I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. "Ready."
Dante and Luca are already moving toward the exit, their easy banter a welcome sound after the violence of the night. Normal sounds. Safe sounds. The kind of sounds that make me believe, for just a moment, that maybe I can have something close to an ordinary life.
Angelo's thumb traces across my knuckles as we walk toward the stairs. Such a small touch, but it grounds me, reminds me that I'm not alone anymore. That someone chose to stand beside me while I watched my past burn.
The night air hits my face as we emerge from the jet, cool and clean after the smoke and ash. I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with freedom. No more running. No more hiding. No more—
"Well, well. Look what we have here."
The voice cuts through the night like a blade, and my blood turns to ice. I know that voice. Nico's lieutenant, Marcus, steps out from behind a maintenance vehicle, his ugly smile visible even in the dim airport lighting.Hewas the one who tattooed me.
Angelo goes rigid beside me, his hand tightening on mine. "Get behind me," he murmurs, but there's no time.
"Miss me, Princess?" Marcus calls out, raising his gun. The barrel glints in the light, aimed directly at Angelo's chest.
Everything slows. The world narrows to just that gun, that finger on the trigger, Angelo's body beside me. In this suspended moment, I see it all clearly. Marcus's satisfied smirk, the way Angelo starts to move to shield me, Dante and Luca scrambling for their weapons.
But most clearly, I see Angelo. Angelo, who held me while I cried. Angelo, who brought me strawberry ice cream at thirty thousand feet. Angelo, who looked at all my broken piecesand called me beautiful. Angelo, who might die because of me, because of what I brought into his life.
No.
The thought explodes through me with crystal clarity. Not him. Anyone but him.
"No!" I scream, throwing myself forward just as Marcus's finger tightens on the trigger.
The gunshot cracks through the night like thunder, but I'm already moving, already placing my body between the bullet and Angelo. The impact hits my left arm like a sledgehammer, spinning me around. Fire races from my shoulder to my fingertips, and I can feel the wet heat of blood immediately soaking my shirt.
But I'm alive. And more importantly, Angelo is alive.
Strong arms catch me before I can hit the ground, and then Angelo's face is above mine, his expression twisted with fury and terror. "Kasia! Fuck, no, no, no—"
"I'm okay," I gasp, though the pain is making spots dance across my vision. "I'm okay. You're okay."
His hands hover over my arm, afraid to touch but desperate to help. "You stupid, beautiful, insane woman. What the fuck did you do?"
More gunshots ring out. Dante and Luca returning fire. I hear shouting, running footsteps, car doors slamming. But all of that feels distant, muffled by the roaring in my ears and the way Angelo is looking at me.
"I couldn't let him take you from me," I whisper, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. The admission hangs between us, raw and honest and terrifying.
Something breaks across Angelo's face, his dark eyes going bright with unshed tears. "Kasia—"
