Owned by the Devil

Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Saint

I had been waiting for so long, contemplating on if I was in the right room, until I confirmed it with the scent of her hair on the pillows. Finally, she opened the door and I was on her before she could react.

I pulled her inside, covering her mouth with my hand, her soft body slamming into mine. She gasped, stiffened. I breathed her in—a mixture of jasmine and musk, and the faint sweetness of the perfume I used to buy her. Ohh my Bella.

“Shh,” I whispered in her ear, voice cracking with emotion. “It’s me, Saint. I’ve come to take you home.”

For one second, I felt her go still in my arms, and I thought—finally. But then I turned her around, and her eyes… they weren’t the eyes I knew. No warmth. No spark. Just cold, detached fear.

Still, I kissed her.

Hard. Desperate. Starved. I thought it would wake something up in her, in us, the way we used to be. But her lips didn’t move. Her body didn’t yield. When I pulled back, searching her face, she stared through me like I was a stranger.

“I don’t know who you are,” she said quietly. “But if you don’t let me go… I’ll scream.”

The words sank like knives, but not the way you'd think. I didn’t feel hurt. I felt rage.

Four days. Not a month. Not weeks. Just four f*****g days. That bastard had gotten into her head in less than a week.

I let her go, jaw clenched tight, fists trembling. “What the hell has he been telling you?” I hissed. “What lies did he feed you?”

Her voice was steady, but her eyes darted to the door. “You have to go.”

I stepped between her and the exit, arms spread, heart hammering. “No. I’m not going anywhere. I came here for you. I came to save you, Bella.”

“I don’t need saving.” She said so softly, almost scared. She should be.

“That’s not you talking,” I said, voice rising. “That’s him. He’s twisted everything. He’s got you playing house while I’ve been risking everything to find you.”

Her mouth opened, but I cut her off.

“We were supposed to run away together, remember? You and me, just like we planned. You said you loved me. You chose me!”

She flinched, but didn’t step back. “Whatever we had… it’s gone.”

“No. No, you don’t get to say that.” My voice dropped, darker now. “You don’t get to forget me. I’m the one who’s always been there. Not him. Me!” God knows how much I tried not to yell. It felt maddening to be treated this way. By my own Bella?

Just then, she took another step toward the door. No way she was trying to get away from me.

I couldn't help it, I snapped.

I grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back hard. She cried out, stumbled, as I shoved her. She hit the floor with a gasp, stunned, wide-eyed.

She scrambled to her feet, breath coming fast, but I was already towering over her, shaking with rage.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” I spat, “this is how you treat me? Like some kind of monster?”

I dropped to my knees in front of her, eyes wild. “I loved you. I still do. You’re mine, Arabella. Mine only. And I’m taking you with me. You’ll remember. You’ll love me just like you used to. You’ll have my babies. Just like we always planned.”

She backed away in horror. And like adding more fuel to fire, fury made me mad. I had to get her to comply.

I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, trying to tie her mouth short just so she wouldnt draw attention. But she immediately bit my hand hard. I yelled in pain and fury.

She screamed. “Dominic!”

That name lit an explosive fuse in me.

I roared, grabbing the nearest object—a heavy crystal paperweight from the dresser—and brought it down on her head.

Her scream cut off as she slumped to the floor. Instantly unconscious.

My heart pounded, blood boiling. She wasn’t supposed to fight me. Not her. Not Bella.

I dropped to my knees, cursing, and started to tie her wrists with the cloth. I had to move fast. I took care of all the guards. But Dominic could be anywhere now in this goddamn fortress.

“You made me do this,” I muttered, shaking. “You’ll understand later. You always do. You love me. You just forgot. But I’ll fix it, Bella. I swear to God, I’ll fix it.”

I was lifting her into my arms when the door burst open.

“Saint.”

The voice was ice.

I turned, and…

BANG! The first shot hit my shoulder. The second struck lower.

I barely had time to breathe before the third bullet tore into my chest, and the world tilted.

Arabella’s body slipped from my arms as I hit the ground, choking on blood, vision going black.

And the last thing I saw was him—Dominic Moretti, standing over me, gun still raised, face carved in stone.