The words settle quietly between us. For the first time, I stop seeing Saint as the man everyone fears and start wondering about the boy who never had the chance to simply grow up.
Amy
The date with Azriel should have made me feel better. Instead, we ended up talking about Saint. It made me realize how much I kept looking for someone else.
By Tuesday afternoon, Saint’s chair is still empty. It’s as though the entire campus silently agreed not to ask where he went. Like his absence is something normal.
I leave class, hugging my notebook against my chest as I cut through the old courtyard toward my dorm. The stone arches throw long shadows across the brick path. Students laugh somewhere behind me.
I jolt when someone drops a stack of books. I make my way to the coffee shop, forgoing my dorm room. It’s the only way I can get my assignments done. Sitting alone in my room will cause my mind to run with different scenarios. I tried calling Saint, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. I tried texting him, but all three messages show up as delivered.
When I turn the corner, I freeze when I hear his voice.
“My favorite girl.”
The world stops. My lungs forget how to work. I take deep breaths, but none of it seems to fill my lungs.
I know that voice. I know exactly how calm it sounds before someone gets hurt. Slowly, I turn.
Roman stands beneath one of the arches with his hands tucked into the pockets of a charcoal overcoat. Tailored. Immaculate. As though he’d stepped out of a magazine instead of a nightmare.
He smiles. The same practiced smile that never reached his eyes. I don’t know. I didn’t see it before when I first met him.
“I’ve missed you.”
Every instinct screams at me to run, but I can’t seem to get my feet to move. It’s like my brain is telling my body to run, but it won’t listen.
Roman must notice because his smile widens. “There she is.”
He walks toward me with the same unhurried confidence he always had. Never rushing, no need to chase. Because predators know frightened animals rarely think clearly when they’re cornered.
“You look good.” He looks up. “You know, you had me a little worried. It took me a while to find you, but you were never good at hiding.”
Lie.
Every word out of his mouth is a lie.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
He tilts his head. “Actually, I think the one that shouldn’t be here is you, Amy. This is not what we discussed.” He takes another step. “I paid a great deal of money to give you everything.”
I grip the strap of my bag. “I never asked you to.”
“No, but you simply accepted it the day I took care of your little problem with Daddy.”
I try to stay as calm as possible, but a drop of sweat slides down my spine. “I left because you gave me no choice.”
“You escaped.”
“I didn’t know I was locked in a cage.”
Roman chuckles under his breath. “I’ve always admired your imagination.”
He stops just outside my reach. Close enough that I can smell the expensive cologne that haunted every room of our house. Memories I buried claw their way back to the surface. The way he can sound and move so calm like a snake about to strike.
“You’ve changed your hair.” His eyes travel over me. “The sweaters are new.” Another smile. “I don’t like it. It looks cheap.”
He was always a stuck-up, entitled asshole. If it’s not designer, it’s cheap.
