Page 75 of Savage Saint
I look back at the security feed, at the woman curled in my bed. At the scars visible on her exposed shoulder. At the faint bruises still healing on her arms.
"What she is," I say, my voice dropping into a register I rarely use outside of work, "is mine."
The possessiveness in my tone surprises even me. But I don't take it back. I can't. Because it's true. She became mine the moment I saw what was done to her. The moment I recognised myself in her pale blue eyes.
Arrow sighs. "Fine, but don't take too long. Her memories are bound to start coming back, and when they do," they trail off. "God knows what she might do."
I growl at the insinuation. "She’s not going to hurt me."
"Whatever," Arrow mutters. "Just… watch your back. You’re not exactly good at staying objective when it comes to her."
I rest my head against the back of the sofa, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"One more thing before I go—" Arrow's voice turns grim. "While I was digging, three more bodies just turned up. Blackriver girls."
My jaw tightens. "Nico's Kittens?"
"Not just Kittens. Other girls too, some with different tattoos. Sending you the files now." Arrow's rapid typing punctuates their words. "These girls? I don't think they were just dancers. Someone's cleaning house."
"They were trafficked?" The words taste bitter in my mouth.
"Looks like it."
Photos flood my screen, and something dark and vicious twists inside me. Young women posed like broken dolls. Each with a different symbol tattooed on their skin. A rose, a snake, a star. But their faces all share the same blank expression. Empty eyes staring into nothing, just like Kasia in those training videos.
Soulless. Programmed. Used.
"There's more," Arrow continues. "Chatter about something big about to go down at the Eclipse, one of Nico's newer clubs. The guest list reads like a who's who of human garbage. Two days from now."
I rub my jaw, thoughts firing too fast to track. If they're getting rid of evidence, there'll be bodies.Morebodies. It looks like sex trafficking funded most of Nico's lavish lifestyle. And if they truly are cleaning house, they'll be coming after Kasia. She's a loose end after all. But how the fuck did they get a hold of someone like her in the first place? Did she give up? Let herself be taken? Or did Jerzy hand her over? No. She's too valuable to him.
"Check the Feds' database," I say. "If they're closing in on Nico, it might have triggered the clean up protocol." I pause. "And when you delete everything else, keep this part. My brothers need to know."
"Already sent to Dante. He's calling a meeting."
I run a hand through my hair, exhaustion weighing on me. "Great. This conversation never happened."
"What conversa—" Arrow starts, but cuts off abruptly.
A scream tears through the house. Raw. Terrified. Kasia.
"I've got to go," I snap, already moving.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart hammering against my ribs. The sound of her fear claws at something primal inside me, something I've kept locked away for years.
The bedroom is bathed in the moonlight as Kasia thrashes violently in my bed, fighting against invisible demons. Sweat plasters her hair to her forehead, her face contorted in terror.
"Nie!" she cries, her voice breaking. "Nie, prosze!Stop!"
I approach cautiously, knowing better than to grab someone in the midst of a nightmare like this. Especially someone trained to kill.
"Kasia," I call firmly. "Butterfly, wake up. You're safe."
Her eyes snap open, wild and unfocused. For a moment, she looks right through me, still trapped in whatever hell she's visiting. Then recognition flickers, and she scrambles backwards until she hits the headboard.
"It's me," I tell her, keeping my voice steady. "You're in my house, remember? You're safe."
I watch as awareness slowly returns to her face. Her breathing remains ragged, but the panic begins to subside. When she finally meets my eyes, what I see there guts me. It's not fear of me, it's shame.
