Everything changed the night my dad died.
The night I met Saint, Galen, Caz, and Theo.
Those manipulative a-holes set out to ruin me after our hot night together, but they didn’t realize you can’t destroy something that’s already broken. And it only works if the victim cares.
Which I don’t.
Because I’ve been in hell for years, and nothing penetrates the steel walls I’ve erected.
Until The Sainthood decides I belong to them and cracks appear in my veneer. Their cruel games, harsh words, and rough touch awakens something inside me, and now, I’m in trouble.
They draw me deeper into their dangerous world, until I’m in the middle of all the violence and gang warfare, tangled up in all the secrets and lies, and there’s no turning back.
Because they own me.
And nothing has ever felt so right.
I’m exactly where I should be.
But with enemies on all sides, survival becomes a deadly game with no guarantees.
And, sometimes, saints become sinners.
We hold on to one another as we ride the high and slowly come back down to earth. Our skin is sweaty, our breathing ragged, our heartbeats pounding, and the magnitude of the moment slams into me.
Powerful emotion batters me on all sides, and I’m drowning.
Tears prick my eyes, and for the first time since I was thirteen, I think I might cry on the outside.
Oh crap. He can’t bear witness to this.
I push him off me and hop up, unlocking the door and yanking it open. “Get out.” My voice wobbles and my arm trembles as I point at the open door. “Get out and stay out.”
He stands, watching me with that intrusive lens of his as he scoops up his clothes. He stops in the doorway and turns to face me, gripping my chin painfully. “Thanks for the f**k, princess.” He tweaks my nose. “Guess it sucks to realize you’re female after all.”
I shove him out, slamming and locking the door behind him, grab a pillow, and scream into it in pure rage. Then, I lose it, tossing stuff around my room, dragging the covers off my bed, pummeling my fists into the wall until the skin tears, and doing everything I can to purge the emotion lashing me on all sides.
It’s preferable than giving in to the tears waiting in the wings, because I’ll be damned if I give Saint Lennox my first tears in five years.
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