Ruthless Saints

“I should’ve stopped it, little one. I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly. “You’ll be here until you’re better.”

I struggle to turn my face back to him. “And… then?”

Our eyes lock, and I see no malice, only empathy, which is unexpected. “You tell me what you want to do, and I’ll make it happen.”

If I could frown, I would. Or laugh because it sounds like he’s actually on my side, which is ridiculous.

His eyes drift over my face again. “I’ll sit with you while you sleep. I won’t let anyone come close to you. Rest, little one.”

I want to believe the words so desperately it makes tears mist my eyes.

Alexei takes out his phone, and after doing something on it, music comes from the device. I don’t know what it is, but it’s beautiful. It makes my emotions pulse like an erratic heartbeat.

He sets the device down next to my head, then places his hand on the top of my hair. He begins to stroke the strands, and it makes a tear spiral over my temple.

Leaning a little forward, his tone is gentle as he says, “You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you ever again.”

I manage to mumble, “Let… me… go.”

Alexei pulls his hand back. “As soon as you’ve healed.”

I don’t believe him.

My trust in humanity has been obliterated to smithereens. I’m not emotionally equipped to deal with any of this.

I hear the door open again, and slowly my eyes move past Alexei. The second I see Carson, a sob flutters over my lips. He’s only wearing cargo pants, and the tattoos no longer look hot. They look threatening. His shoulder has a bandage stuck to it.

It takes the last of my strength to turn my face away from them and to mutter, “Leave.”

Still, I don’t fall asleep. Drowsily I lie, feeling paralyzed, and it makes everything worse.

“It’s going to take a month or two until she’s fully healed,” Alexei grits the words out.

Carson says nothing. Still. And it hurts so much.

I can’t stop the tears from falling.

Eventually, Carson whispers, “I’ll sit with her.”

“I’m not leaving. I promised Hailey I’ll keep her safe.” Alexei takes a deep breath. “Until she’s ready to leave, consider me her personal guard.”

I hear movement, and even though I startle, I still can’t move as Carson wipes the tears from my temple.

I’d recognize his touch anywhere.

His breath skims over my skin before he presses his mouth to my forehead. He keeps still, and I feel his lips tremble.

Again I’m torn by the emotions crashing through me. I still can’t tie the two sides of Carson together.

I need the recluse I fell in love with to hold me, to comfort me. But I don’t want this killer, this assassin near me.

I can’t believe he’s an assassin even though I saw him kill men with my own eyes. It’s unreal, and it fills me with fear.

Contractor equals killer. How the hell was I supposed to guess that?

Was everything we shared a lie?

It feels like it was.

Chapter 18

CARSON

With burning eyes, I stare at Hailey. Even bruised and broken, she’s still beautiful.

Alexei and I don’t speak, not wanting to disturb her because she’s finally fallen asleep.

I have no hope that Hailey will forgive me. I know she’s going to leave, and Alexei will keep his word. He’ll protect her, even from me.

Especially from me.

Carefully taking hold of her hand, I hold it between both of mine. Feeling how cold she is, I let go of her, and getting up, I grab the spare blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over her.

I sit down again, and resting my elbows on the side of the bed, I just stare at her.

How am I going to let you go?

I can’t.

Christ, baby, I can’t.

Hours pass, and I’m unable to move, not wanting to miss any of the precious seconds I have with her.

Two months at the most. That’s how much time I have to convince Hailey to stay with me. Maybe I can make her see I’m still the same man she fell in love with.

I don’t have much hope, though.

Demitri comes into the room with food, and I shake my head at him. I can’t stomach anything.

When I turn my gaze back to Hailey, her eyelashes flutter. It takes a moment for her to fully wake up. Her eyes settle on my face, and there’s recognition. For a couple of seconds, there’s light, and then it dims as she begins to remember everything.

She doesn’t close her eyes or look away from me like she’s been doing. Instead, fear creeps into the gray, and gingerly swallowing, she hoarsely asks, “Why?”

I reach for her hair and brush my fingers over the strands. She flinches at my touch, but I don’t stop, wanting to remind her of what we had.

“Why did it happen?” I ask to make sure that’s what she wants to know.