Page 51 of Savage Saint

Henry hesitates, and Onyx steps forward. “I swear, Saint. I really don’t know. He jumps from⁠—”

“Onyx, tenderize him.” My enforcer smiles, and he cracks his knuckles right beside Henry’s ear. “I’ll be back.”

I don’t make it five steps before Henry scrambles onto his knees, crawling in the direction of my footsteps. Pauses when his dirty hand touches my boot.

“Wait! There’s something more important.”

“Talk.”

“It’s…fuck…Kirill has plans for your sister.”

I drop to my haunches, hand wrapped tight around his neck. “My sister Klara?”

“Yes.” It’s a wheezing croak.

Fire flows through my veins. It’s nearly impossible to think through it.

“Explain?” I spit out the word from between clenched teeth, and he flinches back. My brothers shift, reading the change in me. Especially Rizos. His expression is dark, matching mine.

Not going to think of the why now.

“Kirill wants collateral. Something that will make you bend the knee.” Henry’s words trip over each other now, moving back another inch or two. “They know her school. Where she gets coffee…the gym she uses. Places she frequents with friends.”

My jaw clenches, and I hold my hand out toward Gallo. “How?”

Gallo walks over and opens the case, handing me Kaos’s gun. A gift from our dead father. Each son was given one before he passed, and we promised that if the time ever came, we’d use them to exact revenge.

This is one of those instances.

“One of her friends talked to…” Henry trails off, head turning away from me. The muzzle of the gun is pressed to his temple. Just tap it twice for encouragement. It works. “S-she spoke to the same man Kirill sent as backup to our meeting. He’s a sicario for hire recommended by the Argentinian connection. Tall, blue eyes, and has a numeric code tattoo.”

Rizos rushes into the cell to check; he’s out a minute later and gives me a nod. “Dead.”

Guessed as much.

“So I have a dead sicario. Hired by Kirill to what? Kidnap Klara or kill me…my brothers?” I flip the cylinder open and check the rounds. Every chamber is loaded. With a flick of my wrist, I spin it once, snap it shut, and let the weight settle into my palm. “Who sold my sister out? Where did the sicario come from?”

“One of her friends from school talked to him. He flirted, fucked her, and she answered all his innocent questions. I don’t know her name, just that she has pink hair.”

That makes me pause. Klara doesn’t have a friend with pink hair.

The only person we know with that color is a club cuero.

Janelle.

“And Volkov?”

Henry swallows. “Said he wanted a little whore of his own. He likes her.”

I don’t hear anything said after that. The betrayal and anger have me vibrating as I dig the muzzle against his mouth, breaking the skin. His blood smears over the metal and Henry sobs, trying to move back, but I’m past the point of rationality.

No one stops me. No one moves.

“This is the mercy you’ve earned.” I pull the trigger, and the shot cracks through El Hueco, Henry’s body jerking once, the gun slipping from his mouth as he slumps to the ground. Blood and brain matter splatter the pole behind him—the floor—and I take the small hand towel Gallo offers and clean the gun before placing it back inside the case.

The men here know what to do. They’ll take care of the bodies and mess.

“Trojan needs a rundown.”