Page 69 of Savage Saint
The device Angelo took flashes behind my eyes. The wolf etched into its side staring at me like it knows. Mocking. Waiting.
I don't know why he kept it, and I don't want to know. It looks innocent enough. A small metal rectangle with a blinking red light. But just thinking about it makes my throat close up.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My hands shake as I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the memories that have been slipping through the cracks since the attack. I grip the edge of the sink, knuckles going white, as the room starts to spin.
Not now. Please, not now.
But it's like trying to hold back a tsunami with my bare hands. My heart pounds against my ribs, my lungs burning as if I'm breathing fire instead of air. I slide down to the floor, back against the frosted wall of the toilet, knees pulled tight to my chest.
Remember where you are.
Angelo's house. Blackwood. USA.
Remember who you are.
No one. Nothing. Just a blank slate with too many cracks.
But the cracks are getting wider, and things are seeping through.
The man in a long coat—Jerzy—tossing a small wooden puzzle box at me.
"Rozwiaz."Solve it.
"But—"
"Now, Kasia. You have one minute."
I press the palms against my eyes until spots dance in the darkness. The more I try to push the memories away, the harder they push back.
"You belong to me. My blood runs through your veins. My lessons run through your mind. You exist because I allow it. Remember that."
A sob rips from my throat, and I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle it. I don't want Angelo to hear. I don't want him to see me like this, broken and pathetic. Not after I felt strong, wanted.
But the walls are closing in, the air is getting thinner with each laboured breath. I need to get out. I need space. I need—
I stumble to my feet, desperate to escape the memories, the panic, the walls. But my legs won't carry me far. I make it halfway to the bed before my knees buckle, and I crumple to the floor.
My chest is so tight it hurts. Tears blur my vision as I curl into a ball, trying to make myself as small as possible. Maybe if I'm small enough, invisible enough, the past won't find me.
But it's already found me.
"Steady hands, wilczku."Little wolf.Again. The name lands like a blow. Possessive and sharp, meant to remind me who I am. Who made me. Who I belong to.
The gun feels too big, too heavy.
"Shoot him."
"I can't—"
"You can, and you will. Do you think your enemies will wait while you cry?"
His voice slices through me, as cold as the blade he once made me hold to my own throat.
I don't hear Angelo approaching. Don't register his presence until strong arms scoop me up from the floor. I should fight. Jerzy taught me to fight. Taught me toneverlet myself be lifted. Touched. Every instinct screams to fight, but I'm too far gone. I cling to him instead, face buried in his neck, breathing in his scent, trying to anchor myself to the present. There's no scent of blood, no gun oil. Just warmth and something clean. Real.
He carries me to the bed and lays me gently on the mattress. When he starts to pull away, I grab his shirt, a pathetic whimper escaping my lips.
