He looks at me, green eyes intense. "I was out with my cousins. We were playing. Antonio's sons are only a few years younger than me. We were riding our bikes when three men came by. Eliminated our guards. Started shooting at us."
I shiver. Saint's voice is emotionless like he's recounting the weather.
"I had a knife on me." He pulls it out, shows me. "It was my father's. I inherited it when he died. He was a good man. He believed that if you were ordering a death as Don, you needed to swing the hammer yourself. That knife was his preferred weapon."
I hold my breath. I'm not sure what to say. Sure, I grew up in the life, but as a girl, I'd been sheltered from this violence.
I've never killed anyone.
Saint continues. His eyes are slightly out of focus, as though he's lost in the memory.
"My cousins and I managed to run, escape in the firefight. We split up—it's what we're taught to do. Not that it mattered," he chuckles, "they weren't the target."
My head spins as I try to imagine four little boys running for their lives. "One of my father's men grabbed me. Convinced me to go with him. Turns out," Saint's green eyes are full of hatred as he speaks, "he betrayed us. He sold out my parents, and now that I was coming of age, he decided the job needed to be done." Saint is playing with the knife, flipping it back and forth in his hand. "But I'd been ready. He came at me, and I drove this blade into his throat." He smiles as he says it. His thumb caresses the tip of the knife. "I'll never forget how powerful I felt in that moment. How righteous." He chuckles and puts the knife away. "It was heady, thinking I controlled the game?—"
There's something pointed in his expression when he looks at me, and I worry again that he knows. Did he bring me here, to this lovely house, to kill me?
I didn't think so.
Not because I didn't think he was capable of killing me, but because I saw the way he spoke of this house—with reverence. He wouldn't murder someone here.
"But I had a lot to learn." He runs a hand through his dark hair. "Still do, it seems."
We continue walking in silence. I don't know what to say. My mind is racing. Where is he going with this?
"Antonio won't survive much longer."
He looks forlorn, like he is already heavy with grief. It's heartbreaking. Not just because Saint is losing the last parental figure he has, but because he's not one to express emotions so freely.
"Antonio raised me. Trained me. Made me who I am, and now, the fucker wants me to end his life."
I inhale sharply. There it is—why we are here. Saint is trying to escape the immense weight that Antonio has placed on his shoulders.
"It's not even fucking something I'm opposed to," he says. "Death can be a gift. I know that. And Antonio wants to go while he can still think. As a man, I understand that." His eyes are sharp. "Killing. It's easy. It's what I'm built for. Leading…" He shakes his head.
"I'm sorry," I say, squeezing his hand. He untangles himself from me and walks to the water. I don't know what else to say or do. How can I be there for someone who is being faced with the impossible? Who the fuck asks their surrogate son to kill them?
He picks up a piece of driftwood, tosses it into the waves. "He's the only family I have left. When he dies..." He trails off.
"You'll have me," I say before I can stop myself.
He looks at me, something unreadable in his eyes. "True."
We walk in silence for a while, and I let myself pretend this is normal. That we're a normal couple on a normal weekend getaway. That we chose each other. That we aren't talking about murder and mayhem. I allow myself to feel the warmth of his skin.
"Your turn," he says, turning to me as though he hadn't just told me he was a child killer and potentially contemplating murdering his dying uncle. "Tell me something real."
I search my mind.
"There was a time when Bianca wanted me to take over the family." I laugh bitterly. I've never shared this with anyone. "Adrian was off being rebellious, and Luca was doing the same out in L.A. She said they were unreliable. Not fit to inherit. So, for a year, I sat at her feet, learning everything there is to know. Preparing." The words taste sour in my mouth. I look at Saint, expecting shock, or something worse. Instead, he's just listening. I wish I knew what he was thinking. Did he think it was a silly idea? Bianca certainly did. Or did he think I had the stuff to lead? "Adrian got it together. Decided he was ready to lead. And Bianca told me I wasn't necessary any longer."
I keep my eyes forward, not wanting tears to fall.
"I focused on finding my footing. Studying. Being valuable as best I could." It all feels ridiculous now. "Then, she informed me of—" I glance at Saint.
"Our marriage." There's no emotion behind his words. He's stating a fact.
I nod. "Turns out I was only valuable for what was between my legs." I close my eyes tightly. "And hell, I'm not even fulfilling that part right."
