Page 90 of Savage Saint
"The hell it isn't," I snap. "Those girls are being killed because of what they know about Nico. I know things too. I could help."
"You're staying here," Angelo says, his tone brooking no argument. He turns to Dante. "The car?"
"Round back. Bulletproof. Untraceable."
Angelo nods, already moving toward a side door I hadn't noticed before. He pauses next to me, his hand brushing mine so briefly I might have imagined it.
"I'll be back," he says, his eyes holding mine for a beat too long.
Then he's gone, Dante following after giving Alessa a quick kiss on the cheek.
The front door slams, and the sound of an engine roars to life, then fades into the distance.
"They always do this," Alessa sighs, leading me toward the kitchen. "Rush off to danger without a second thought."
The kitchen is massive and gleaming, all stainless steel and marble. Antonio and Marco look up from their bickering when we enter. Antonio's eyes widen slightly when he sees me, probably remembering how easily I took him down the last time we met.
"Ladies," Marco greets us with forced cheerfulness. "Risotto or pasta?"
"Neither," I mutter, moving to the window to watch Angelo's car disappear down the winding driveway.
"Both, then," Antonio decides, turning back to the stove. "We've got time."
That's the problem. They've got all the time in the world to play house, while Angelo and Dante are heading into what could be a trap. And I'm stuck here, treated like I need protection instead of being allowed to protect.
My fingers itch for a weapon. My muscles tense with the need to move, to fight, to do something useful.
"Wine?" Alessa offers, already pulling out glasses.
I turn to look at her, at Marco and Antonio bustling around the kitchen like this is just another day. The fury builds inside me, hot and sharp, a familiar friend.
I've spent my entire life being told where to go, what to do, who to kill. I escaped one prison only to find myself in another, gilded and comfortable, but a cage nonetheless.
Not anymore. I'm done being a pawn in someone else's game.
"Sure," I say, forcing a smile. "Wine would be great."
I accept the glass she hands me, my mind already calculating exits, security systems, and how long it will take me to slip away unnoticed.
After dinner, Alessa leads me to a small room tucked away in the east wing of the mansion. It's windowless and cold, the air smelling faintly of metal and electronics.
"Security hub," she explains, flipping on a series of monitors that bathe the room in a bluish glow. "Dante thought you might feel better seeing that we're completely locked down."
The screens flicker to life, showing different angles of the property: the front gates, the perimeter fence, the back garden, the driveway. I lean forward, my eyes instantly cataloguing every detail, every potential weakness.
"There are twenty-seven cameras in total," Alessa says, pointing to a digital map on one of the screens. "Plus motion sensors here, here, and along the entire fence line."
I nod, but I'm barely listening. My focus narrows to the guards patrolling the grounds, their movements, their timing.Marco passes the east gate every eight minutes. Antonio circles the pool area every twelve. Two guards I don't recognise alternate shifts at the front entrance.
"The blind spot between cameras four and seven is only three seconds long," Alessa continues, "but no one's ever managed to exploit it."
My fingers twitch at my sides as I mentally mark the location. Three seconds is plenty of time if you know what you're doing.
"And this is the garage," she says, switching to another feed. "Six cars, all bulletproof, all with reinforced tyres."
This is too easy. Doesn't she know she's giving me everything I need on a silver platter?
The sleek black Maserati catches my eye immediately. I recognise it from the day Angelo brought me here. It sits in the corner like a sleeping panther, powerful and dangerous.
