Cruel Saints

Carson slides in behind the steering wheel, and as he starts the engine, he says. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive. There’s more ammo and guns in a hidden compartment beneath your seat.

I duck forward and press against the velvet by my legs, which instantly springs open. “Got it.”

He pulls away from the castle and drives toward the exit. As we near the guardhouse, the gates begin to open, and I check the clip of my gun again.

Elena sits quietly next to me as Carson steers us off the grounds. I instantly scan the area around us, consisting of a short stretch of road with trees lined on either side. We get to the main street, which leads through the town, and it makes the tension ease from my shoulders a little.

After we’ve made it safely away from St. Monarch’s, Carson makes a call. “I have them.” A moment later, he says, “Lucian and a woman, Elena Lucas.” He listens then holds the phone over his shoulder for me to take.

Putting the device to my ear, I say, “Yes.”

“Elena Lucas?” Alexei asks. “Why?”

“Security,” I answer so Elena won’t catch onto what we’re talking about.

“Makes sense. Demitri and I are on the way. We’ll meet you at the safe house.”

Knowing I owe Alexei my life, I say, “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He lets out a chuckle. “By the way, the fee went up.”

His words draw a chuckle from me, but it feels foreign on my lips. “I expected as much.” The grim cloak of sorrow tightens around me, then I ask, “My father’s…?” I can’t force the word ‘body’ over my lips.

“In safekeeping.”

“Thank you.”

Papà… Dio, Papà…

I close my eyes as intense grief rips through me.

“We’ll find out who’s behind this and kill them,” Alexei assures me.

“I won’t rest until they’re dead,” I growl.

“Neither will I,” Alexei murmurs darkly. “I considered your father a friend.”

It means a hell of a lot to hear Alexei say that. He’s the best there is, and knowing I have him on my side offers me some comfort.

We end the call, and I toss the device onto the passenger seat, then say, “Thanks for coming, Carson.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We have a tail,” he mutters.

“Only one car?” I ask as I glance over my shoulder at the sedan carrying four men.

“Yes.”

“Stop the car,” I order.

Carson slams on the breaks, and it brings us to a screeching halt. I throw the door open, and as I get out, I remove the Baretta from behind my back. Lifting my arms, I open fire on the fuckers who dared to come after me.

People on the sidewalks scatter for cover while cars swerve to get away from the hell breaking loose.

“You come after me?” I shout as I let one bullet after the other fly. “You fucking kill my father and dare come after me?”

The fuckers should’ve invested in armor-proof windows because I take out the driver and passenger in front without breaking a sweat.

The other two in the back seat open their doors and take cover behind the metal, returning fire.

A bullet clips my jacket on my left arm, then Carson opens fire, using a submachine gun, and it riddles the sedan with bullets, killing the last two men.

“Fottuta feccia,” I mutter, you fucking scum, as I walk closer and search the body on the passenger side. Carson helps, and finding the dead men's wallets and phones, we jog back to the SUV.

Once Carson steers us away from the crime scene, I begin to search through their wallets and phones for any information that can help us find out who’s behind this.

“We should expect more. The scouts were only reporting where we are,” Carson advises.

“I’m ready,” I mutter as I open the first phone and check the call history. I press dial on the last number, and then a man answers, “Give me an update.”

“You should’ve sent more than four men,” I bite the words out.

There’s a moment’s silence, then the fucker asks, “Who am I talking to?”

“Take a wild fucking guess, asshole.”

The line goes dead, and it has me cursing, “Fucking piece of shit.” I meet Carson’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “He had a Greek accent. What fucking Greek is moving in on my territory?”

“A soon to be dead one,” Carson mutters. “We’ll let him bring the war to us and then end it.”

I glance at Elena, who’s been surprisingly quiet, and then I see why. She’s pressed herself against the door, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist and her hair hanging like a curtain between us.

Noticing how badly she’s trembling, I reach over and brush her hair away from her face. She instantly flinches, the short bursts of air leaving her parted lips speeding up even more.

It’s the look of terror in her eyes that makes me realize she’s having a panic attack right next to me, and I didn’t even know.