Page 3 of Savage Saint
It took everything in me not to follow my brothers and instead turn around and drive to my house where I have been killing myself in the gym ever since. Sweat dripping down my bare torso, I increase the weights on the bar, far exceeding what one would consider safe for a solo training session. But I don’t give a shit. I need to take care of all this angry energy coiling within my gut. If I stop now, I know I’d be in my car and on my way to Blackriver, where I’d turn over every fucking stone to get my hands on the slimyfiglio di puttanawho’s been determined to put a target on his sweaty forehead. Well, call me the fucking tooth fairy, cause I’m about to make his wish come true. He’s got my attention now.
I slide under the bar and grip the metal with my hands, grunting as I lift it up. I try to concentrate on my breathing, but my mind keeps going back to that damned container. To that frail body...to that red hair that won't let me fucking rest.
The memory of her burns brighter than the first time I killed a man. I was twelve, and the pride in my father's eyes when he called me hismonstro perfetto—his perfect monster—should have warned me of what I was becoming. But all I felt was relief. Relief that I'd finally proven myself worthy of the Santoro name. Relief that I could protect my family. Now, eighteen years later, that pride has turned to ash in my mouth.
“Fuuuck!” I scream as I push the bar up from my chest and over my shoulders.
“You done trying to kill yourself?” Dante’s deep voice wraps around my muddled mind as he guides the bar back onto the rack. My arms flop down exhausted as I stay on the bench press with my eyes closed.
“You gonna look at me?” he presses.
I would, but I don’t want him to see the war I’m fighting with myself. “I’ve seen your ugly face before.”
“We both know I’m the pretty one.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. My eyes fly open in shock. Dante doesn’t joke, he never makes light of situations. He’s the stoic one, the one who always keeps his shit together.
“He jokes? What has Alessa done to my brother?” I shake my head, my eyes finding his.
“Not a joke.” He shrugs, keeping his face serious and his gaze on mine.
I burst into laughter, sitting up. “Yeah, okay. What are you doing here?”
“You disappeared.”
“I came home. Clearly.” I shrug.
“You know we need to make a decision,” Dante says as he hands me a towel.
I sigh. “We all know you don’t need me there to make any sort of decisions. Just tell me who I need to get rid of and I’ll take care of it. Like always,” I mutter.
I nearly miss the flinch on his face as I lift the towel to my face. Wiping the sweat away, I wait for his reply.
“I’d rather you were part of the conversation. We’re a unit, Angelo.” With hesitation evident in his voice, he places his hand on my shoulder. We’resupposed tobe a unit. But things rarely work how they’re supposed to.
“I need a shower,” I shrug him off, getting up. My eyes focus on the view of the ocean through the window instead of my brother. A seagull flies past, looping high above the tree line below before diving down towards the water. I don’t have it in me to fight him on this, at least not right now. He needs me, needs his enforcer, whether he likes it or not. I might as well not make him feel like shit about it.
“I’ll wait in the car,” he nods and turns around, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And once again the light blue eyes are all I can think of.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I slide into Dante’s car fifteen minutes later, my hair still damp. I fully expect him to drive us to Black Royale, one of the casinos we own in Blackwood, but instead of replying, he ignores my question, his jaw ticking as he pulls out of my driveway, leaving my sanctuary behind. The roads down the mountain are steep and winding, and every minute that passes by, bringing us closer to the town, has my palms itching to grab for the gun safely tucked into my holster.
“Hospital,” Dante finally mutters under his breath as we pass the “Welcome to Blackwood” sign.
Shit.
My fists clench as my whole body stiffens. “Why?” I don’t want to go there, don’t want to seeher.
Another minute passes by before Dante’s knuckles loosen around the steering wheel. “There are—” he starts. “Fuck, Angelo, there are things—” he shakes his head. “Just trust me.”
I watch his face for any clues as he drives us through town, but I can’t discern anything out of the ordinary. His tight jaw is no tighter than usual, his stiff back no straighter than normal. Whatever it is he wants to discuss, he’s keeping it close to his chest. And I. Don’t. Like. It.
Alessa runs out through the hospital door the minute Dante kills the engine. His body language changes instantly as he steps out of the car and envelopes his fiancée in a hug, burying his nose in her hair, like they haven’t just seen each other less than half an hour ago. He’s a completely different person when she’s around. Not a bad different. Just different. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand the feelings he has for her, but I’m happy for them nonetheless. Dante never thought he was capable of love, but all he needed was my soon-to-be sister-in-law to show him how wrong he was. It’s clear in the way he looks at her, he’d do anything for her.
“Fata,” he breathes into her, his whole body relaxing. She smiles at the nickname he gave her when he decided she put a spell on him.
“Terence,” she retorts.
“Can we please stop with the Angry Birds reference already?” He shakes his head, his lips fighting a smile. Everyone knows he’d let her call him anything as long as she lets him call her his.
“What will you give me to stop?”
