BAD SAINT (All the Pretty Things #1)

Book 2 Three-5

Again, he seems like a good Samaritan, offering his very own drink to his slave, but we both know what this is. If I drink from his cup, then his suspicions are wrong. If I don’t, well…There really isn’t any other option.

“Thank you, мастеp.” Aleksei hums his approval as I slowly peer up at him from under my lashes and timidly accept the cup from his hands.

I know what this means, but what other choice do I have?

Without reservation, I draw the cup to my lips, and I…drink. The urge to throw it all up overwhelms me, but I swallow it down, as I do with my tears. Aleksei places his fingers under the rim, forcing me to down it all.

I do.

When the cup is empty, I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and wonder how long I have before the drugs hit. Before that happens, however, I whisper, “I don’t like drinking alone,” and pass the cup back to Aleksei. Please, let this work.

It does.

He accepts, and all suspicion vanishes as he reaches for the bottle of vodka off the table. My stomach gurgles as it feels like I’ve just downed acid. Aleksei pours himself a glass and raises the cup in my honor. “You will never drink alone again.”

His words are filled with promise, and when he throws back the vodka, savoring every last drop, I see that he means it. Aleksei has a way of making it seem like I’m here because I want to be. He hasn’t been cruel, as such, but I know this is his way of manipulating people into becoming his pawns.

I risk a glance around the table and notice a few of the men’s eyes slipping to half-mast. Their chins droop to their chests because they can no longer hold up their heads.

Thy drugs are quick.

Thankfully, Aleksei is too preoccupied with patting his new pet to notice.

“f**k it,” Saint says, cutting through the silence. “Let’s drink. Your success is mine.” I risk a glance at him and see he holds the bottle of vodka with the red label—the non-drugged one.

Aleksei nods, and when his head wobbles slightly, I know the drugs, mixed with the copious amount of alcohol he’s consumed, are kicking in. He raises his bottle to salute Saint, and they both gulp down the vodka. Saint guzzles his, baiting Aleksei to beat him, and he does.

Aleksei consumes the entire bottle, then attempts to slam it onto the table. However, it seems his hand-eye coordination is failing him because he misses the table and the bottle shatters into tiny slivers when it hits the floor. He tries to pinpoint the noise but blinks quickly as though he can’t focus.

“Wh-what d-did you doooo?” he asks in a slur, sagging low into his seat as he tries to grab me. But all he clings on to is air.

The effects of the drugs hit me too as I grip the edge of the table to maintain my balance. I blink once as the world flickers into blurred lines. The world moves in slow motion around me as I peer around the room, noticing the comatose men.

Some are slumped onto the table while most are sound asleep in their chairs or mumbling incoherently as the drugs seep into their system.

I know the drugs have hit them quicker because of all the vodka they’ve had, but I am half their body weight and don’t drink nearly as much as they do, so I know I only have minutes until my fate matches theirs.

“Y-you wi-will pay.” And those are the last words I hope to ever hear from my kidnapper because his head hits the table with a harsh thud. He’s out cold.

I can finally breathe again.

“Aнгел, come! We have to be quick.” I feel someone slip their forearms under my armpits and yank me up. I’m as floppy as a rag doll.

I have no control over my body and sag forward, but Saint won’t allow me to fall. Regardless of how I feel about him right now, he will keep his word and give me back my freedom. Just as he promised he would.

“I’m sorrreee.” My swollen tongue makes it hard for me to speak, but I need to apologize to Saint. I judged him when I shouldn’t have, and my anger was misdirected. I’m angry with myself for…for falling for the bad guy. Because when I inhale his scent and bask in his touch, I know that’s exactly what I’ve done.

I blamed him for me feeling this way, but there is no one to blame but me.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just lean on me, okay?” Like I have a choice. My legs are like overcooked spaghetti.

We commence a slow stagger, but to where, I don’t know because my eyes are sealed shut. I’ve read that before one dies, the last sense they lose is their hearing. I wonder if maybe I’ve poisoned myself because that’s the only thing I’m relying on right now because my body feels like it’s shutting down.

“I-I can’t feel m-my…body,” I wheeze, my heart beating frantically.

“I’ve got you, and I promise, I’ll never let you go.” Those words throw a warm blanket over me, and I allow Saint to lead the way. But one thought pounds against my temples, and I fight the urge to surrender to the darkness.

“Kill…him,” I push out between winded breaths.

I can’t leave this yacht knowing he’s still alive. After everything he’s done, this stops now. No more women are to take my place because I want this to end with me.

“We don’t have time.”

With the last bit of strength I have left, I use my weight to try to hold him back. It’s a lame attempt, but it has the desired effect. “Please.”

I want to say so much more, but I can’t, and I know we’re running out of time.

Just when I think Saint is about to pick me up and haul ass, he exhales loudly and then groans. We take a few steps forward, then I feel the soft plush sofa under my body as Saint lays me down gently. “Cover your ears,” he instructs before placing a frantic kiss to my forehead.

If I could move my arms, I would.

It feels like minutes, not seconds, but when I hear a gun being c****d, I know it’s really over. I’m safe.

Or so I thought.

“Drop your gun.”

There must be some mistake. I’m surely hallucinating. But when I feel myself being hauled to my feet and the cold barrel of a gun being shoved against my temple, I know this is really happening.

“Zoey,” Saint wheezes, his anguish clear as we are once again at gunpoint because of her. “Don’t do this. Come with us. We can finally go home.”

I don’t know how she’s awake, but she is, and with everyone out cold, it’s only us. Considering how this entire thing started, it seems fitting.

“What did you do to Alek?” she screams. The sound shreds my brain, and I moan in pain. The need to sleep overpowers me, but I force myself to stay awake. “Saint!”

I hiss when the metal stings my slick skin. Her patience is wearing thin, but so is Saint’s as our window of time to escape closes. “Give her to me and…and you can live.”

Both Zoey and I gasp because what he just said has drawn a distinct line in the sand.

“You’d chose this b***h over me?” Zoey cries, her betrayal and surprise apparent. “Over your own flesh and blood?”

Time stands still.

“I will always, always choose her. You’re dead to me, Zoey.”

The ultimate “f**k you” one could ever say to a sibling or to anyone, for that matter. My heart swells, knowing he chooses me. No one has ever done that for me. I was never important enough to be someone’s number one.

All the warm and fuzzy feelings soon disappear, however, because when Zoey roars and c***s her gun, it’s now or never. “Fine then. Her blood will be on your hands!”

I try to fight, but it’s useless, so I brace for death.

It never comes.

“Drop it, Saint, or I kill your aнгел.”

That voice belongs to the man whose brother we killed. It seems not even being drugged can stop him from seeking revenge for his brother’s death. I don’t need my sight to know what’s unfolding. Two guns versus one.

All this because of me. But I am done. Tired. The fight in me withers, so I surrender.

“Let,” I pant, trying to stand upright on my own. “Let him go. I won’t fight.”

“That’s not an option,” Zoey says, her grip on me weakening. It seems that even though she woke from her drug coma, she’s still drowsy. I wish I could use that to my advantage, but I can’t.

I can taste defeat.

“Yes. She must pay for what she did to my brother, Kazimir. You both must.” He’s always been privy to what went down. He was just biding his time.

When Saint bursts into laughter, I wonder if he’s finally lost his mind. I know I have. “Your brother cried like a little girl. Begging for his life.”

“Shut up!” roars Adrian, but Saint does nothing of the sort.

“He pissed his pants right before I put a bullet between his eyes.”

I recognize what he’s doing. He’s baiting Adrian to train his gun on him and not on me. I know Saint, and my life is always more important to him than his. I don’t need my vision to recognize that.

The room explodes into pandemonium as Russian words boom around me. Zoey shrieks when gunshots sound around us. The deafening noise splits me into two. I expect her to let me go, to duck for cover, or at the very least, to cover her ears, but to my horror, my hearing doesn’t fail me as I hear the trigger squeak. She’s going to shoot me.

“No!” A guttural scream leaves me, and I try to break free, but it’s hopeless. And I do something I haven’t done in a very long time.

I pray.

Please God, give me the strength and welcome me home.

I await my death, but it seems God isn’t done with me yet.

“Forgive me, aнгел.”

I don’t know what he’s seeking absolution for…until I hear an echoing boom that rattles me to the core. I propel backward, the force so fierce that it knocks the sandals from my feet. I don’t feel the pain in my body until I hit the floor.

Everything grows numb, and all I can focus on is the pain.

“Forgive me, aнгел,” he said.

Why?

Because Saint has caused this searing pain eating me whole—he just…fucking shot me.

I carry that certainty with me as I finally succumb to the darkness, unsure if I’ll ever see the light again.