Page 6 of Savage Saint
Her words hit like a gut punch. I know there are monsters out there—I’m one of them. I might not traffic women or burn brands into their skin, but my hands aren’t clean. They’ve never been. They never will be.
“I’ll get Arrow to look into her background once we have her details. We need to figure out what to do with her in the meantime,” Dante says.
“What do you mean?” I ask, frustration bubbling.
“Her wounds have been treated, she’s getting all the medical care she needs. Provided she wakes up soon the doctors think she can be released into our care in the next couple of days,” Dante answers.
“Our care?” I shake my head. This feels too big, too complicated. I can handle violence, but this? This I’m not sure how to clean up.
“She can stay with us. We have on-the-clock nurses looking after Massimo.”
“No,” I shake my head. “Not a chance.” The idea of her being anywhere near our father makes my skin crawl. I’ve spent years avoiding the man who ruined us all, the man who turned my mother’s life into a living hell. I cannot, will not, let that bastard be near her.
“Angelo–” Dante growls, eyes flashing.
“I’m not letting that unhinged tyrant anywhere near her.”
“Watch your words,” he snaps. “Do you think I’d let him live under the same roof as Alessa if I thought he was a danger to anyone?” But I can see the crack in his armour. He doesn’t reallybelieve in his own defence. Massimo Santoro is a relic of a man who should have been put down years ago.
“She can stay with me,” I declare suddenly, the room falling into stunned silence.
“You?” Luca cocks his head to the side, disbelief shining through his eyes.
“I’m more qualified to look after her than any of you,” I insist, locking eyes with each of them. It feels absurd, even to my own ears. I’m far from therightchoice. With my past, present and future, she should be as far away from me as possible. ButIfound her.She is mine,to protect, I mean. At least that’s what my brain is insisting on.
“You are?” Alessa questions, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“He’s got a medical degree,” Dante explains, shocking her and me alike.
A bitter laugh bubbles in my chest, though I suppress it. A medical degree. It feels like a distant memory from another life. Back when I thought I could be something more, something better. Before I realised healing wasn’t my calling—destruction was.
It shouldn’t be so shocking though. Not in this world, not in this life. It goes hand in hand with the job, knowing how toreallyhurt someone. How to make sure they’re always just on the verge of passing out, but not crossing the threshold until I’m done with them. Keeping someone alive is harder than killing them. It feels like a cruel joke that knowledge of saving lives has made me an expert in taking them. Every lesson I learned in medicine has been twisted, weaponised. Knowing precisely where to strike, how deep, and just how much blood a body can lose before it crosses the point of no return. It’s a skill set that makes me the perfect monster.
“I didn’t know that,” she states, looking at me with something that almost feels like awe. Her expression makes me uncomfortable, like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve. I don’t want her to see anything in me, certainly not something worth admiring.
“It’s not something I advertise.” And it’s definitely not something anyone expects from someone like me. In most people’s eyes, I’m the blunt instrument, the enforcer. Nothing more, nothing less.
“And you’re okay with having a stranger in your house?” Luca asks incredulously, disbelief clear in his tone.
No. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I shrug like my hands aren’t itching to punch a wall. My home is my sanctuary, my fortress. One I designed and built as far away from everyone as I could get away with. It’s the one place where I can breathe without feeling the weight of our family’s name pressing down on me. Having someone in my space is going to tear at every nerve I have, but I can’t say that. Not here. Not now.It’ll only be for a short period of time, I tell myself. Once she’s recovered we’ll send her on her way, and my life can return to the familiar colours of death and blood.
“It’s decided then. She’ll stay with you.” Dante’s jaw tightens as if it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had. And maybe it is. Maybe I’m too impulsive, too reckless. But I can’t shake the image of her frail body in that shipping container, the faint pulse beneath my fingertips, the soft whisper of that word—aniol.As if she saw something in me I haven’t seen in myself in years.
I’m about to open my mouth and take back everything I just said when a crash comes from behind the door separating us and the woman we’ve been discussing. Then comes the one thing you don’t want to hear in a hospital—a continuous piercing beep.
4
BUTTERFLY
Ijolt awake, the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic invading my senses like an unwelcome intruder. It burns my nostrils, sharp and clinical, with an undercurrent of something metallic. Blood, or maybe disinfectant. It clings to me, making my skin crawl. Flashes of blinding light pierce my closed lids, so intense my head feels like it’s splitting open—it’s too bright, like staring into the sun.
I struggle to peel my eyes open, but they snap shut against the harsh brightness, retreating into the dark where, to my horror, I find nothing but emptiness. My body is heavy, my muscles weak and trembling. The faintest movement sends shocks of pain radiating through my limbs, along with another, more primal feeling, all-consuming fear, wrapping around my chest like a vice. This fear—it’s not new. It’s familiar, like something I’ve lived with for years, something I’ve run from. But why, I can’t remember.
Questions scream in my mind, clawing for answers that are just not there. Each time I try to probe, I’m met with a void. I try not to panic and focus on the one thing I can figure out. Where the hell am I?
I crack my eyes open once more, wincing as the light floods in. The room around me is a harsh expanse of white. White walls, white ceilings, white sheets, even the white blinds covering the window across from me. Jesus, have I ended up in an insane asylum? All this brightness feels hostile, as if it’s designed to expose everything, leaving you defenceless. Machines beep in rhythm with my heartbeat, faster and faster as panic amplifies with every passing second.
I try to move, but something is keeping me still, something thick and foreign in my throat, suffocating me. It’s wrong, this feeling, alien and invasive, making my panic levels reach heights I didn’t know were possible.
