Page 28 of Savage Saint
It all makes sense now.
I stand from my seat, rolling my shoulders and ignoring the aches that have become a part of me now. I let the knowledge settle into my bones. The Mafia. Fine. What does that change? They were dangerous before I knew their name, and they’re dangerous now.
Alessa raises a brow, clearly waiting for me to speak first. When I don’t, she finally exhales, shaking her head. “I thought I was the only insane person here. Angelo’s got his work cut out for him.”
I know Alessa doesn’t mean anything by it. She isn’t trying to hurt me, isn’t trying to make me feel like some lost, brokenthing, but her words burrow under my skin anyway, clawing at my insides.
I don’t belong anywhere.
Not in this house. Not in my own past. Not even in my own body.
The walls feel closer than they should, the air thick and pressing against my lungs. I need out. I need space. I need to breathe.
“Sorry,” I mutter, pushing away from the counter, my feet already carrying me out of the kitchen before I can think twice about it.
Alessa doesn’t stop me.
Neither does he.
But I feel him.
Even before I step into the hallway, before I see him, I know he’s there.
Angelo.
His gaze is like a fire, scorching hot against my skin, tracking my every move, watching, measuring, dissecting. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move from where he’s seated on the sofa, doesn’t try to stop me. But his presence is suffocating, pressing against my back.
Waiting.
Seeing what I’ll do next.
I don’t look at him. I don’t acknowledge him. If he wants me gone, I’ll make it easy for him.
My feet are silent against the hardwood floor as I walk towards the stairs, already picturing the path ahead. I need a plan, need to find out more about myself before I leave this place for good.
But I don’t make it far.
A shift in the air warns me before I even see him.
A whisper of movement, a disruption in the stillness, a predator stepping too close to its prey.
My pulse spikes. My body knows before my mind catches up.
A shadow moves against the light, a dark figure stepping inside the house, his frame blocking the doorway.
Too close.
Too sudden.
A threat.
I don’t think. I react.
A surge of adrenaline slams into me, my vision narrowing as my instincts take control. My body moves before my mind catches up, muscles coiling as I twist toward the threat. This isn’t panic. This isn’t fear.
The man barely has time to register me before I slam into him, every moment clean. Efficient, effortless.
His arm reaches for my shoulder, but I already know his next move. Twisting beneath his grip, I adjust my body, predicting, controlling the movement before it even happens.
