My stomach drops at how close I came to two realisations.
If I’d opened that book and witnessed my best friend’s face, our cover could have been blown.
If that happened, we might have never gotten Jenna, and I might have never witnessed my sister’s true colours.
“I want them dead, Saint. All of them.”
He brushes my hair behind my ear, darkened gaze travelling from mine, down my neck, then to my lips, lazily rolling to my eyes again. I can see his sick, twisted mind purring within him, at the look he seems to love from me so much. “Including your sister?”
I answer without a hint of hesitation. “Yes.”
Apparently, it doesn’t convince him. He steps further into me, trying to weed out my honesty as his brows and tone take a dip. “Indie.”
I groan, hands slapping behind me as I lean back, my head bumping back against the mirror.
“Yes! I don’t know…” I squeeze my eyes painfully closed. “Fuck, I’m so angry at her. Worse than angry. She might as well have taken my knife and stabbed me in the chest with it.”
Saint’s hand brushes against my ribs, running along the script of my tattoo. “I’m sorry, baby.”
If I wasn’t so livid, my eyes would be bulging out of my head at the mere rare appearance of the wordsorrythat’s been uttered from his lips within twenty-four hours.
Twice, to be exact.
“How the hell is she a part of this? She wasn’t evil growing up,” I murmur.
A pain in the ass? Absolutely.
But never anything likethis.
“Evil isn’t always bred, darling. It can often be crafted.”
I frown at his words, opening my eyes to look at him. “She’s nothing like us.”
Saint watches his thumb trace along my waist, hiking a shoulder. “No, she’s not. Maybe she’s been coerced.”
I scoff. “Seriously, Saint? As if. You know Louisa. She wouldn’t get herself into that kind of situation.”
His chuckle is dark. “What if she loved Barry so much that she was willing to follow his path with him?” The thought makes an ice-cold droplet slink down my spine. Would I do the same for Saint?
He’s already got darkness within him, as have I.
The difference is, we were forced to take this path as collateral, and even if it’s morally wrong, it’s the only way to fight a greater evil.
Theirs is purely for a sick gain. Money, power, control.
We use ours to restore our peace; they use theirs to destroy it.
“It doesn’t excuse any of it. She’s got a fucking back bone. She could have spoken up and used her title for protection; there’s a big enough audience out there that people would listen.”
Saint tips his head to the side. “Not disagreeing with you, but these people? They don’t think like that. You and I both know how deep this corruption goes. We’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg.”
My gaze bats up to the ceiling, and I shake my head. I can’t empathise or even begin to try and understand. “If that was you and me, I’d have taken your balls if I thought you were an evil prick.”
Saint runs his tongue over his teeth, flicking his gaze back up at me. “I was evil when we got together. My balls are still firmly intact.”
He leans into me, hands gripping my thighs to pull me to the edge of the counter.
“I was blissfully unaware of its depths then, and I like your evilness. It isn’t all that bad. It’s not even in the same spectrum,” I say, my voice husky as I stare into his eyes.
