43. I Need To See This

43

I Need To See This

Violet

I'm shaking against the restraints as Braxton digs his hand into the band of my pants again, and I can't help but wonder if he's right.

Would Saint let Brax do what he wants with my body just to stop him from killing me? Saint has watched men touch me—even if he did make them pay for it afterward.

But this has to be different. It isn't a game.

This isn't just Saint and me feeding our depravity with what we crave in each other. This is Brax out for blood. Out to get revenge against a father I didn't know I had. And he wants to use me to do it.

I meet Saint's eyes from across the room. They're nearly vacant as he stares back. It's almost like he's gone somewhere in his mind as his knuckles whiten from his grip on his blade .

Whatever he's thinking has his singular focus, and it's a look I haven't seen since kneeling in Liam's blood on the side of the road.

Rage brews in the hot depths of his pupils.

Destruction.

Saint doesn't break my stare as I blink back my tears. He focuses on every drop—every whimper. We're one. Connected .

I haven't stopped crying since I woke up. And even if I still feel the wet rivers running down my cheeks, I'm numb to them. I'm silent.

The gag is no longer straining my lips, but still, I don't speak. There's nothing to say that won't potentially send this all tumbling.

Pressing my lips together, I blink at Saint and silently ask him the question I'm desperate to get the answer to.

What's stronger—his rage or his patience?

What matters more—revenge or me?

Saint is a killer. A psychopath.

But underneath it all, I'm certain Kole loves me.

Even when his love sometimes hurts or doesn't make sense. When he holds me so tight it messes everything up. Saint is his darkness, but beneath the torment, Kole continues to exist.

And that's who I see when the hard fa?ade cracks just enough for the corner of his mouth to tilt upward. So faint I almost miss it.

I see Kole, and I see love.

I see the man who will do anything for me, even if it means turning his back on Sigma House .

My chest swells, and my heart races as I watch his expression shift. As he gives me the answers to everything I've needed to know since the moment I opened myself up to him.

We see each other's dark side, and we've accepted it.

Kole is mine, and I am his.

It's why Saint will protect me now, in this moment.

Just like when I sat in this very spot and told Declan I don't fear him. He asked me why, and I knew the answer without having to question it. Kole won't let anyone hurt me.

Relief floods my veins, and I no longer feel Brax's fingers on my skin. I no longer fear his knife at my neck. I don't struggle against the bindings around my wrists and ankles.

I'm at peace.

"You forgot something." Saint's dark gaze moves to Brax. He pauses, even if he doesn't remove the blade from where it's pressing against my throat.

"What?"

"You're only two trials in, Braxton." Saint ticks his head just slightly, and I don't miss Declan shifting at the exact same moment.

Brax huffs. "So?"

"You don't know all Sigma House's secrets just yet." Saint's voice is almost haunting it's so quiet.

It whispers through the basement and sends a tickle up the back of my neck. Again, Declan shifts, but all the attention in the room is on Saint because this is his unholy ground, and he commands it .

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brax's tone is starting to shake.

The slightest hitch in his voice gives him away.

And I'm not the only one who noticed. Because the second Brax asks the question, Saint's cheeks warm with evil amusement.

"What do I mean, Declan?" Saint asks.

Declan doesn't answer with anything more than a sadistic grin. And the moment he starts to move, the entire room goes pitch black.

With the lights out, I can't see what's happening. But I hear a shuffle and chains rattling around.

The knife at my throat slides along my skin, and Brax must have stepped back because he's no longer touching me. One moment I feel him, and the next, he slips away entirely.

To my right, there's a clatter of chains, and I imagine that's Declan. Rattling around and hopefully breaking free.

"What the fuck?" I hear Brax yell to my left, and something crashes across the room.

In the darkness, I have no idea what's happening. I don't know who is who, and when someone grunts in pain, I can only hope it's not Saint.

A body presses closer to the table, and at first, I tense, thinking Braxton is going to use me as a shield in this madness. But when fingers brush my hair from my face, and I realize I know those hands—I know that scent—I relax .

Saint leans down and plants a kiss on the center of my forehead.

"You're safe, kitten," he whispers.

And then his touch is gone.

A moment later, the restraints at my wrists are tugged free, and I pull my arms down. My sides ache from being stretched for so long, and I almost fall off the table when I pull myself to sit.

There's another loud bang, and then the lights come back on.

It's so sudden and bright; I shield my eyes and blink my vision back into focus. I grind the heel of my hand on my eyes, and when I can finally see clearly, I spot Saint, Declan, and Brax in the center of the room.

Declan has a chain wrapped around Brax's neck, and he's pulling it so tight that Brax is blue in the face. He's trying to claw at Declan, but each time Brax's nails draw blood, Declan grins.

Declan is at Brax's back, and Saint stands in front of him, so calm that if someone walked in, it would almost look like they're having a conversation.

But when he glances over at me, down to where I'm rubbing my raw wrists, I see it. No more mercy.

"Stop fighting," Declan says, only loosening his grip on the chains when Brax drops his hands.

Saint toys with his blade, watching the exchange, and I'm nervous, not knowing what he plans to do.

"Take from the house, and we take from you." Saint narrows his gaze. "That's how it goes, right? Except this time, you fucked up. You took from me . "

Brax has lost the air of confidence he had only a few moments ago. His eyes are on Saint, watching every spin of the knife in his hands.

Saint chuckles, turning his back on Brax and walking over to me. For a second, Brax tries to use the advantage to fight, but Declan tightens the chain around his neck.

"String him up," Saint says, squatting down and releasing one of my ankles and then the other. And when he stands again, he tips my chin up. "You should leave for this."

My eyes dart to where Declan has pulled Brax to the wall, securing the chain around his neck first, then one hand and the other. Finally, his feet, so he's in a wide X, unable to move.

Glancing back at Saint, I swallow hard, shaking my head. "I need to see this."

It might be because of what Brax did. Or it might be because I need to see what Saint is truly capable of. But I can't walk away.

Saint brushes his thumb up over my lip. "Whatever you wish, kitten. But stay here."

I don't move. I couldn't if I tried. My body is frozen with the same anticipation I'm sure Brax feels as Saint walks over to him.

Declan looks back at me, scanning me. For someone I've always thought incapable of caring about anything but himself, he looks enraged by the cuts on my ribs.

Pulling my shirt down, I cover them up .

Saint and Declan turn to Brax, but when he starts to try and talk, they gag him like he did to me. They don't want to hear his excuses any more than I do.

I watch as they heat the knife—as they draw three lines into his ribs. I watch as they cut off his eyelids when he tries to blink. I watch as they force him to stay awake through every bit of pain they inflict. Through every drop of blood they spill and every bit of flesh they cut off. And when I think it's done, Declan slices open Brax's pants in the front, and I look away when I realize what's about to happen.

It's the one thing I can't face, even if the guttural scream that rips out of Brax brands itself into my memory. A cry so deep it almost masks his ounce of flesh falling to the floor. His screams embed themselves in my mind until they turn to mumbles.

And then there's only silence when I assume he bleeds out.

My eyes are still sealed shut when Saint makes his way back over to me. He blocks my view of Brax as he tips my chin to meet his gaze. Blood smears onto my skin where his thumb grazes it, and he says something, but I can't hear him.

Sounds are fuzzy, and my body is numb.

I don't look back as he helps me off the table and carries me out of the basement. Not even when I curl into his chest and release all the tears I thought had already found their way out.

I soak his shirt and let go. I let him save me once more.

My Saint.