Saint and Sinner

Chapter 2

Elena

I lost track of the days. The walls never changed, The light under the door never shifted. The blood on my clothes had dried, stiff and clinging to my skin like a brand I couldn’t erase.

The air reeked of mildew. Footsteps passed my door so often they blurred into nothing. Silence settled around me like a second prison.

Then the door creaked open.

I tensed so sharply it hurt.

A woman stepped inside, moving like she owned the room or maybe like she owned me. Her heels clicked softly on the worn floorboards, her ponytail swaying as she tilted her head.

"Good morning," she said, her voice low, sharp. No smile. Just a smirk.

I didn’t move

Her gaze flicked to my clothes, her smirk deepening. "Still wearing that?"

I said nothing.

She dropped a bundle on the bed—a skirt and a fitted top, neither of which I’d ever wear by choice. "I thought you might appreciate something fresh. Unless you’d rather keep wearing that."

"I’d appreciate it if these could be washed," I said, forcing my voice steady, despite the pounding of my Heart…

Her brows lifted like I’d said something amusing. Then she shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She turned for the door, her hand already on the knob.

"Wait." The word slipped out, my voice cracking. "My brother…how is he? , Where is he?"

She paused, sighing like I was a child asking for the tenth time. "Your brother’s doing well. Better than you, actually." Her smirk turned almost pitiful. "He left two days after he got here. If I were you, I’d stop asking. Rafael might forget he exists."

My stomach twisted, fear knotting tight in my chest. "What do you mean?"

She took a step closer, heels clicking louder now. "I mean, Elena..." She crouched in front of me, too close. "Your brother is fine—for now. But Rafael has a way of reevaluating people’s usefulness. You’d do well not to remind him."

My hands trembled.

Her fingers threaded through my hair in a mockery of kindness, her touch making my skin crawl. "You’ve got spirit," she murmured. "I like that."

I yanked my head back, glaring. "What do you want from me?"

Her smile widened. "You’re not a prisoner anymore. Or at least, you don’t have to be." She straightened, towering over me again. "Soon, we’ll begin your training. Unless, of course, you’d rather stay locked up in here."

"Training for what?"

"To join my security detail." Her tone was almost cheerful now. "You’ll learn to fight. To follow orders. To survive. It’s a good offer." She leaned in, eyes narrowing. "It’s also not optional."

I shook my head. "No. I won’t—"

Her hand snapped out, gripping my chin, nails pressing into my skin. "Listen carefully," she hissed. "You say yes, and your brother lives. You say no, and—well, Rafael can’t kill you, but I can. And your brother? He’ll never see the sun again."

My breath hitched.

She let go, smoothing down her skirt like nothing had happened. "So? What’s it going to be?"

I hated her. I hated everything about this place. But I hated the thought of losing James more.

My voice shook as I whispered, "I’ll do it."

Her smile was pure satisfaction. "Smart choice." She stepped toward the door. "Feel free to roam. There’s food in the kitchen. I know you’re hungry."

The door clicked shut.

I didn’t move.

Not a prisoner anymore.

Right.

My chains were gone, but this was just another kind of cage.

***

I’d spent hours staring at the door, trying to convince myself to step out.

Certainly another day had passed

Isabella’s words echoed in my mind,You’re not a prisoner anymore but that felt like a lie.

My hands were free, yes, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still trapped. Fear held me tighter than any chain could.

My stomach growled, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since I’d eaten. They hadn’t brought rations today, and the gnawing hunger was harder to ignore with every passing second. I sat there, trying to will it away, but eventually, my body won.

Cautiously, I opened the door, each creak of the hinges making my pulse spike. The hallway was quiet, the house unsettlingly still. My footsteps echoed as I made my way downstairs, my hand brushing the cold banister for balance.

When I reached the kitchen, I froze.

Rafael was there.

He stood with his back partially to me, broad shoulders cutting a sharp silhouette against the dim light. The woman braced against the marble counter, her breath hitching as his movements grew sharper, more deliberate. He didn’t whisper to her. Didn’t touch her like she was something fragile.

It was control, raw and unapologetic.

A slow burn spread beneath my skin, something I didn’t recognize—didn’t want to recognize.

My stomach clenched, revulsion curling inside me, but my feet stayed rooted. I should have turned away. Should have left. But my body betrayed me, caught in the quiet dominance of the moment.

Then his eyes shifted.

Dark jade. Lethal. Unforgiving.

His gaze found mine like it had been waiting.

The air in my lungs turned solid. Heat, humiliation, something far more dangerous all of it tangled inside me as my pulse slammed against my ribs. I hadn’t meant to see this. Hadn’t meant to interrupt.

But I had.

And Rafael knew it.

His movements didn’t slow. If anything, there was something cruel in the way he held my stare, his lips parting just slightly, like he was amused. Like he was daring me to keep watching.

I stumbled back, the invisible tether between us snapping. My breath broke free in a sharp, uneven rush as I turned and fled, my legs barely holding me upright as I went upstairs.

Even after I slammed the door to my room, even as I pressed my back against it, heart hammering, I couldn’t shake it.

Not the way he’d looked at me.

Not the way my body had reacted.

And worst of all, not the terrifying realization that for one split second—one single, breathless moment—something inside me had wanted to keep watching

A soft creak pulled me from my thoughts.

The door.

I turned, my breath catching as Rafael stood in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me. Damp hair. Bare chest. The scent of leather and spice clung to him.

I swallowed hard, my eyes betraying me by lingering a moment too long.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, amusement flickering in his dark gaze. “What exactly are you looking at?”

The heat in my cheeks flared, and I quickly looked away, every nerve in my body on edge.

“I wasn’t….” I started, but my voice cracked.

He stepped closer, the door clicking shut behind him. “Careful,” he said softly, the word a warning and a tease all at once.

I forced myself to look at him, even though it felt like standing in front of a storm. “I didn’t mean to… interrupt,” I murmured.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Didn’t you?”

The room felt smaller with him in it, the air heavier. Every instinct screamed at me to stay quiet, to avoid provoking him, but a part of me bristled at the way he looked at me like he was testing me, pushing me, waiting for me to break.

“I was hungry,” I said finally, the words barely above a whisper.

His head tilted slightly, as if considering my answer. “And now?”

“Now ? … I’m not,”