Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
I return to the bed and find her in the same position I left her. I stare at her face, taking note of the dazed expression. “The first three days are the worst when it comes to pain, so I’m going to give you another pill,” I say. “This one is stronger than the last one and will stay in your system for a bit longer. It’ll also help you sleep. Okay?”
“Okay,” she mumbles.
She doesn’t put up any argument, or fight, and that scares me more than her defiance ever did. I shake out two pills from the container and bring them to her lips, uncapping a bottle of water that’s on the nightstand. She takes them without batting an eye and lets me help her lie back against the pillows.
Once she’s settled in, I take a seat on the edge of the bed. I’ll be sitting here for a while, checking on her, re-checking the wound. Minutes tick by, and I just stare at my hands, guilt plaguing me. Would she have been better off dead? Did keeping her alive only elongate her suffering? Fuck. I don’t know the answer to that.
I look up from my hands and at her face. Her eyes are open, and she’s staring right at me. Has she been watching me the whole time?
“Calder?” she whispers.
“Yeah, sweet girl?”
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Thank you?” I snort. “Thank you for what? Letting my father hurt you? For putting you through more shit?” I can feel myself spiraling, and now is not the time for this.
“No. Thank you for being there with me. For staying. For caring.” Her eyes flutter closed, and there’s a fist-sized hole in my chest that her words leave behind.
I couldn’t admit it before. Couldn’t see past anything other than possession when it came to her, but that was before she showed me what she was capable of. That she was my equal. That she was strong and determined. Now I know it’s true.
I’m falling in love with Saint.
The woman who isn’t my wife by choice, but by survival. A marriage born from fear, not love. She’s gone through hell, been branded and marked as property of the Bishop family. I want to say the terrible things end here, but they don’t. This is just the beginning. Next is the consummation ceremony. The one Elena warned her about.
It’ll be the final nail in her coffin, the thing that breaks her. I know it. I can feel it in my bones, and I can’t let it happen. Won’t let it happen. My father has taken enough from me. He’s not taking Saint too. That means I’ll have to do what I should’ve done all along.
I’ll have to end Roman Bishop.
Betraying my family was never something I had the intention of doing, but killing Saint was never going to be an option either. I’m at a crossroads again, and I already know what needs to happen. This time the choice is easy. There’s no wavering. No guilt.
Once I’m certain Saint is settled and won’t wake, I walk downstairs going straight into the room that serves as an office. I head to the desk drawer on the right and open it. Inside is a burner phone that I picked up years ago. I got it just in case I ever needed a backup plan.
Now is the time to engage that plan.
Roman Bishop used to have my loyalty.
Not anymore.
With the phone in my hand I step out onto the porch and make a call. The one that’s going to make or break someone’s career.
“Hello?” the woman greets.
“It’s Calder,” I say. “And I’m ready to talk.”
Saint
Pain wakes me, not the dull, throbbing kind I’ve felt after falling from a horse or the sharp sting of a paper cut, but fire, my entire side burning from the inside out like someone’s holding a torch to my ribs and won’t let go. I try to move, but my body feels weighted down, limbs heavy and uncooperative, and when I open my eyes, the room spins, ceiling tilting and swaying like I’m on a boat in rough water.
Pills. He gave me pills.
The memory surfaces through the fog, slow and syrupy. Two pills. White and round. Swallowed with water he held to my lips after—
After.
My hand moves to my hip, fingers brushing gauze and tape, and reality crashes over me in waves. The brand. The scar I’ll carry forever, burned into my skin just near my hip bone.
Nausea rolls through me, and I turn my head and press my cheek against the pillow, grateful for the cool cotton against my fevered skin. I can still feel the wooden post against my back, the rope biting into my flesh. I can still smell the burning of my flesh.
“You’re awake.”
Calder’s voice comes from somewhere to my right, and I force my eyes open again, blinking against the light until I find him sitting in the chair by the window. He’s still wearing the same clothes from last night, dark jeans, black thermal shirt, and he looks like he hasn’t slept, shadows beneath those all-seeing eyes that watch me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.