Page 96 of Savage Saint
"Bad. Most are in the burn unit. Our people are trying to track down families, but many were brought in without documentation."
My mind immediately flashes to Kasia, her blue eyes, defiant even when she was broken and bloodied when I found her. She could have been one of these girls, shipped in a metal box like cargo, burned alive, if fate hadn't intervened.
"Angelo, have you got a minute?" Arrow asks suddenly. "I need to talk to you about something."
"What is it?" Dante cuts in, impatience rolling off him in waves. "You can talk here."
"Err, it's about a fungal infection on a private part. Angelo had it before, and I think I might have something similar now? I'd really rather talkjustto him."
Dante sighs deeply, shaking his head as he turns away. I move off, clicking off the speaker function.
"Fungal infection? Really?" I can't keep the sarcasm from my voice.
Arrow snorts. "It worked, didn't it?"
I move further away from my brothers, finding a quiet spot behind a row of undamaged containers. The acrid smellof burning rubber and chemicals is less intense here, but still strong enough to make my eyes water.
"What's going on?" I ask, tension coiling in my gut. Arrow never pulls me aside.
"It's about Kasia," Arrow begins, their voice low and serious.
My free hand clenches at my side, a mix of anticipation and dread washing over me.
"What about her?" I keep my voice steady, though my pulse kicks up a notch.
"The device you couriered over. Thehypotheticalone. It's definitely a neurotransmitter. You need to check the base of her skull and check if she's got the receiver."
I freeze, my mind flashing back to how Kasia had reacted when she saw the device—pure, unfiltered terror. Not just fear. Recognition.
"A neurotransmitter," I repeat, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. "For what purpose?"
"Mind control, essentially. Or at least behavioural control. It works by sending electrical impulses directly to the brain. If she's got the receiver implanted, someone could trigger specific responses. Pain, compliance, even unconsciousness. It's fucking medieval."
The revelation makes my blood run cold. I fight the urge to rush back to the house, to check Kasia's neck myself, to see if someone has been pulling her strings all this time.
"There's more," Arrow continues, hesitation clear in their voice.
"Spit it out."
"Have you heard of the Red Widow?"
My breath catches. "Everyone has."
My mind starts whirring, things clicking into place. Kasia's combat skills. Her instinctive reactions. The way she handledherself during the casino attack. Her self-doubt. Why she's been calling herself a monster.
The fucking Red Widow. The most feared assassin in Europe. The ghost story that makes hardened criminals check their locks twice at night.
"Apparently, Red Widow is Jerzy's most notorious operative," Arrow explains, their voice fading as my phone pings with incoming images. "And I'm almost certain Red Widow isyourgirl."
I flick through them. Brutal, efficient kills that make even my stomach turn. A diplomat with his throat cut so deeply his head hangs by a thread. A judge and his entire family arranged in a macabre tableau around their dinner table. A businessman pinned to his office chair with fountain pens through his eye sockets.
"Red Widow," I mutter.
The memory of Kasia's genuine laugh at dinner clashes violently with these new revelations. The way her eyes lit up when she tasted Alessa's tiramisu. How she looked sleeping peacefully beside me, vulnerable and soft.
The contradiction should disturb me more than it does.
Instead, I feel a twisted sense of pride, of possessiveness. She's deadlier than I ever imagined, and I want her even more.
