Page 55 of Savage Saint
The words should push me back. They don't.
The phone vibrates in Angelo's hand again. This time a metallic voice comes through the speaker.
"Beware of acorn artillery! Squirrels mobilising!"
"Oh for fuck's sake." Angelo exhales sharply, fingers dragging through his hair, but his hand doesn't leave my skin immediately.
I don't dare move. The moment should be gone. It should be ridiculous. But the air is thick, charged with something neither of us is willing to name.
His thumb brushes absently over my wrist before he steps away, the absence of contact sharp.
"We both want things we shouldn't," I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His breath is uneven. So is mine.
Angelo's eyes flick to my mouth. Just once. Then he looks away.
"Get some sleep." His voice is steady. But his hands are in fists at his sides. He turns before I can challenge him again. "I'll be out tonight."
My frustration spikes. My fingers curl at my sides.Coward.
"Are you afraid to be alone with me?"
He stops.
Not hesitation. Not uncertainty. Something far more dangerous.
His exhale is slow. Controlled. But his restraint is stretched too thin.
"No, Butterfly," he murmurs, voice lower now. "I'm afraid of what I might do if I stay."
The words drag over my skin, leaving something behind. Something undeniable. My whole body is on fire, and I don't think I want to put it out.
Before I can respond, he turns, walking deeper into the house.
I stay where I am, frustration burning beneath my ribs, watching the space he left behind.
19
KASIA
Islip through Angelo's house like a ghost, a role I feel I've been playing these last few days. Each footstep falls silent against the polished floors. The quiet feels heavy tonight, pressing down on me from all sides, bringing with it memories, or fragments of them anyway, that scatter like glass when I try to grasp them.
Wandering the darkened hallway, I stumble upon a narrow staircase I hadn't noticed before—hidden in plain sight between two massive bookshelves. My curiosity piques as I trace my fingers along the cool metal railing, wondering where it leads.
The door to the roof isn't locked. At this point, I'm not even surprised. Angelo lives alone on a mountain, surrounded by security systems that would make military bases jealous. The only threat here is me, and I've already been allowed inside.
Cool night air hits my face as I step onto the rooftop, discovering yet another hidden treasure in this glass fortress. The pool glows an eerie blue, rippling slightly in the breeze. Mountains rise like shadows in the distance, disappearing into the night sky. For a moment, I just stand there, breathing it in, this momentary freedom. My eyes widen as I take in theexpansive view, my lips parting in silent wonder. How had I missed this sanctuary during my careful exploration of the house? This secret spot, perched at the highest point, makes me feel like I'm floating above the world, if only for a fleeting moment.
I'm wearing just a thin white cami and sleep shorts, the ones Alessa brought me, and goosebumps rise on my skin. But I don't go back for a jacket. The cold feels good. Real. I need real tonight.
My eyes fall on a glass cabinet tucked into an outdoor bar setup. Inside sits an array of bottles, amber and gold liquid catching the low light. I walk over and open it, fingers trailing across expensive labels before settling on one that looks particularly old. The cork makes a satisfying pop as I pull it out.
I don't bother with a glass. What's the point? I take a long swig directly from the bottle, wincing as it burns down my throat. It tastes like money and regret, like everything else in this place.
The liquor warms me from the inside out as I walk to the edge of the pool, sitting down to dangle my feet in the heated water. One swig becomes two, becomes three, and soon the sharp edges of my thoughts begin to blur. The scotch doesn't taste like anything to me anymore, just a means to an end.
I lose track of time, staring at the ripples my feet make in the water, watching them spread outward and fade away. The bottle grows lighter in my hand. My thoughts drift to Angelo. To the way he looks at me when he thinks I don't notice. To the forest. To his hands.
