I couldn’t form words right now if I tried.
I’m not going to be able to convince myself of his belief overnight. But I can allow it to fuel the vengeance, and that’s something I know all too well how to conjure.
I always find a way to turn my pain and grief into something much darker, but it’s not without its sacrifices.
I shove down any hints of emotion when I speak. “So, how vital was Clarke to the society?”
Saint rubs his thumb across my cheekbone, the gentle movement a vast contrast to his appearance. He realises what he’s doing when his gaze lands on where we connect, and his hand moves away slowly, leaving me with the ghost of his touch still imprinted on my skin.
He clears his throat when he puts distance between us. “From what we’ve gathered over the years, he’s at least a middle-ranking member, but of great importance, if not the greatest. He partakes in their activities, but there’s something deeper to it.”
I wet my lips, trying to piece together another fragment of this colossal fuck-up of a story I’m hearing.
“His company does psychiatric research? What could he possibly be able to provide them?”
I glance over Saint’s shoulder, noticing Rex standing and walking towards the window.
Saint’s voice brings my attention back to him. “That’s what we want to know. We think they’re responsible for some of the missing people in Kingstone. What they do with them, there’s no physical evidence.”
“That’s fucking insane,” Regina says, shaking her head in disbelief.
“It’s only the tip of the fucking iceberg,” Saint adds, looking back at me.
I should be surprised, but I’m not.
If they can get away with the things I’ve read, then there really isn’t much else they could do that adds to the shock factor.
“I still don’t understand how you crossed paths with them? Why were you looking into them?” I ask.
He said he protects wealthy and high-risk clients, but that Clarke wasn’t one of them.
So who the hell is he protecting?
He pushes off the wall, going to lean against the desk so he can face me. The way those eyes burn into mine as they search, it’s like everything else around us floats away. Even if the conversation we’re having is practically life altering, he still has me firmly in his hold.
I can tell he’s considering his words, before blowing a breath out through clenched teeth, admitting defeat. “I’m a branch of my father’s company. Where he does the legitimate side, I do the opposite. So when I left…” He flexes his jaw before continuing. “That’s when I took over. My dad’s always known about them; he wants them gone.”
Saint used to leave for weeks between summer breaks to go work with his dad. I had no idea it involved this or was potentially building up to this moment.
It’s beginning to make sense, slightly.
“We provide security for…criminal organisations. It earned me the way in I needed to get closer to Omnia. One of the hires we had recommended our services; we were paid to provide protection around the perimeter at an event…I saw shit they didn’t want us to see, and that’s why they want me dead.”
I run my fingers through my hair, a weak laugh leaving me. “Who would have thought that out of all the things that brought us back together, it would be some secret underworld society.”
If you’d have asked me six years ago where I’d be now, never in my wildest and darkest of dreams would my imagination create this.
Saint flexes his jaw. “That’s why you two need to stay here. The things these fucks do, Indie”—he releases a breath, and I swear there’s a growl intertwined with it—“they’re not getting their hands on either of you.”
Dawson’s voice causes me to flinch. I hadn’t even registered he was still beside Saint, too lost in the human my heart’s currently calling out for.
“You don’t even want to see half the shit we’ve come across.” He makes a face, and I don’t let curiosity get the better of me by asking about it.
Written reports have scarred me for a lifetime, never mind actual footage of their evilness.
“If this society is as big as you say it is, will we ever be safe?” Regina asks, and her eyes are etched in worry, causing guilt to trickle into my chest.
My best friend might have a mouth on her, but she’s delicate inside.
