Cruel Saints

“I know.” Just because we haven’t talked doesn’t mean I didn’t watch her, and honestly, her fighting skills suck.

We finish our beverages in silence. When I get up, Sergei Aulov walks into the dining room. I’ve been meaning to talk to him. “Give me a moment,” I say to Elena, and then I walk in the Russian’s direction.

“I have some information,” Sergei says when I reach him. I asked him to sniff around for me about the new threat.

“What?”

Sergei takes a seat at his table, then he gestures for me to join him. After I sit down, he says, “Word is the threat is closer than you think. It’s someone in your circle.”

“Can you trust this word?”

Sergei nods. “As much as it’s possible to trust in our world.”

Fuck.

The Mafia only consists of three families. The Cotronis, the Lucas’, and the Cabellos. If Sergei’s source is right, then it’s either Lucas or Cabello.

Needing to speak with my father, I say, “Thanks, Sergei.”

When I rise to my feet, he mutters, “Be careful, Lucian. We’d hate to lose an ally.”

I nod, and pulling out my phone, I walk to where Elena is waiting by the doorway. “Go to the shooting range. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.” I wait for Elena to walk away before I head toward the main doors of St. Monarch’s. Stepping outside, I glance around before I take out my phone and dial my father’s number.

“Son? What’s wrong?” he asks because I don’t usually call him so early.

“I spoke with Sergei Aulov. He says the threat is closer to home than what we think. It’s either Cabello or Lucas.”

“I know. Nick Cabello has gone silent. Either he’s dead, or he’s behind the attack. I’ve asked Alexei to track him down.”

I glance back into St. Monarch’s. “Are you sure it’s not Tino?” I seriously don’t want to help Elena, only for her to cut my throat.

“I’m sure,” my father answers. “Don’t worry too much, Lucian. Enjoy your last month there.”

Easier said than done. “I’ll always worry about you.”

After we end the call, I take a deep breath before I walk back into the castle. On my way to the armory, my thoughts revolve around the looming threat and Elena.

I want to join my father, but he’s adamant we’re not in the same place right now. Which tells me we’re in more danger than my father is admitting to me.

And then there’s Elena. Honestly, the emotions she evokes in me are unwelcome, especially now when my head needs to be clear.

Walking into the armory, I choose the usual Glock I use and head into the shooting range.

Chapter 8

ELENA

After shooting a gun for hours, my finger aches, and the rest of my hand is numb. Lucian has been relentless and cold, with impassive expressions etched on his face throughout the training sessions the past couple of days.

I’m not sure if it’s from him feeling burdened by helping me or whether something else is bothering him.

Walking toward the dining hall, I glance up at Lucian, and unable to bite the question back any longer, I ask, “Is something wrong?”

Lucian shakes his head, his thoughts seemingly miles away.

Just as we’re about to enter the dining room, a guard calls out, “Miss Lucas, you have a visitor.”

My head turns, and then the blood runs cold in my veins at the sight of Dante walking toward me. I instantly freeze, unable to form a thought while my heart starts beating out of control. Fear wraps its claws around me at the sight of the monster I thought I was safe from. I feel Lucian’s presence next to me, and it makes my mouth go dry.

Oh God, why doesn’t he go into the dining room? This is going to make everything so much worse for me.

When Dante gets close, Lucian suddenly steps in front of me, tilting his head at Dante.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working on finding out who the threat is?”

Dante’s eyes flare with anger as they sweep from me to Lucian.

He warned me to stay away from Lucian, and now he's caught us together.

My thoughts instantly turn to the fateful day Alfonso was killed, and it multiplies my fear. My muscles tighten with the need to run, but my feet are frozen to the floor.

Unable to make a sound, I watch as Dante clenches his jaw. I can see it’s taking more self-control than he has to answer Lucian with an abrupt tone. “We’re doing everything we can. I’m here to talk to my fiancé.” Dante’s eyes narrow on Lucian, and it makes my heart hammer against my ribs. “Do I need your permission?”

Oh, Lord. Why did Dante have to come here?

Instead of answering, Lucian steps aside, and then he says the worst possible thing, “You know where to find me when you’re done with your visitor, Elena.”