Cruel Saints: Chapter 14


Just as I think I’ve dealt with one threat to my life, I have a new one to worry about. I’m not so sure I’m going to last long with Lucian. At the rate he’s killing people, I’ll probably be dead by sunrise.

I mean, my God, it’s not normal.

Is it?

Is this what Dante and my father do when they’re gone from the villa? Is this everyday life for them, and I didn’t know because I was held captive?

It was easy for Dante to kill Alfonso and Gino.

Maybe that’s why it’s so easy for them to hurt me.

My eyes dart to Lucian, and the grim expression etched on his face makes me hesitate, then his dark gaze snaps to mine, and he mutters, “What now?”

Pushing through, I ask, “Is it normal?”

Lucian frowns, and shaking his head, he asks, “Is what normal?”

“Shooting people.”

He lets out a chuckle that sounds more like a threat. “In our world, it is.” The frown returns to his face, and he tilts his head. “You’ve seen your father and Dante kill… haven’t you?”

The memory shudders through me. “Once.”

Surprise tightens his features instantly. “Only once?”

I nod. “I’ve told you before I never had anything to do with the business.”

“So the kill was personal?” Lucian asks.

The demons stir, and it has me glancing away from him. “It was very personal.”

It was the day my life became a nightmare.


I shake my head, not wanting to tell him about it. “Forget I said anything.”

I can feel Lucian’s eyes on me as I stare out the window, regretting I asked the question.

Luckily silence fills the vehicle until we drive through two massive gates. We’re driven up a long driveway and come to a stop in front of a modern-looking mansion.

When I get out of the car, I blink at the black walls.

Who paints their house black?

The devil.

The front door swings open, and a middle-aged woman comes out. The moment she sees Lucian, she rushes to him. I watch as they hug, Lucian holding her tightly to him.

“Zia Ursula,” I hear him breathe her name, relief in his voice. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry,” Lucian’s aunt says. She frames his face and kisses both his cheeks.

When they pull apart, Lucian turns to me and holds out his hand. “Come.”

My eyes dart between him and his aunt as I walk closer. When I take hold of his hand, his aunt frowns at us. “Who’s this, Lucian?”

“Elena Lucas,” he introduces me. “Valentino’s daughter.”

Her eyes instantly widen on me. “I didn’t know he had a child?” Lifting a hand to her mouth, she whispers, “Dio, you’re the spitting image of your mother.”

“You knew my mother?” the question bursts from me. Hope stirs in me, thinking maybe I can finally learn something about my mother.

“I only saw her at functions. We weren’t close, but she had a beauty you don’t forget easily.” Lucian’s aunt pulls me into a hug. “You’re part of the la famiglia. Call me Zia Ursula.”

“Let’s go inside,” Lucian says. He tugs me into the mansion while Aunt Ursula greets the other men.

My eyes dart around the interior. The walls are black inside as well, with light wooden floors forming a sharp contrast.

There are lights everywhere, so it doesn’t appear dark like I thought it would. Actually, it looks stylish.

Lucian’s home fits him.

A guard follows us up the stairs with our luggage, and I try to take in everything before Lucian opens a door and I’m pulled into a room.

God, even the furniture and bedding are shades of grays and blacks.

“You really like black,” I mumble, and it draws a chuckle from Lucian.

“I do.” He gestures around the room. “Make yourself at home. The suite is yours for the time being.”

“For how long?” I ask, wanting to know what to expect.

The corner of Lucian’s mouth lifts in a predatory way, and it makes my stomach tighten.

“I’ll answer that question tomorrow.” He lifts a hand to the back of my head and presses a kiss to my forehead, then he walks to the door. “I’ll check in on you later. Get settled.”

The guard sets my luggage down, and then he leaves with Lucian. With a sinking feeling, I watch as the guard shuts the door.

Am I a prisoner again?

When I don’t hear the clicking of a lock, I frown and walk closer. Turning the knob, I’m surprised when the door opens.

Lucian’s eyes dart to me from where he’s talking to the guard right outside the door. He must see something on my face because he says, “You’re not a prisoner, Elena. You can move freely around the house.”

I nod, then shut the door, feeling a little better.

Turning back to the suite, I take in my temporary home. It’s not bad at all… as long as I don’t get killed while I’m here.

Walking to my luggage, I find my toiletries and clean clothes, opting for white leggings and an oversized shirt. I walk to the ensuite bathroom, and then I smile.

There’s a dark gray matte oval tub standing next to a black stone brick wall, big enough to fit two people.

I open the faucets and begin to undress, in desperate need to just relax. When I sink down into the balmy water, I let out a sigh and leaning back, I close my eyes.

God, I needed this.

My thoughts begin to turn around the day’s events. So much has happened.

One thought stands out, though. Even though Lucian lost his father today and he was attacked, not once did he take it out on me.





Sitting in the living room, I stare at the empty fireplace.

I’ve spoken with all the guards and got them up to date with everything, especially my plans for the next couple of days.

After I showered and changed into a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt, I knew I wouldn’t sleep tonight and came down here.

Closing my eyes, I can feel my father’s presence. I expect to hear his voice at any moment. To have him sit down next to me. To have him joke about how stupid the people are he has to work with… the people I now have to work with.

Without opening my eyes, I can see him walking out onto the veranda and staring at the garden he loves so much.

I hear movement, and my head snaps in the direction of the stairs. Elena walks toward the kitchen, and dressed in white, she looks like an angel.

I watch as she searches for a glass. When she finds one, a smile stretches over her face, and it makes my own mouth curve up. She opens the faucet and fills the glass, and then she glances up, and the water splashes all over her as she startles. “My God, I didn’t see you there.”

I get up and walk toward her as she grabs a couple of paper towels to dry the counter with.


The water has soaked the front of Elena’s shirt, and I don’t think she notices. The fabric sticks to her breasts, leaving very little to the imagination.

I begin to harden and stop on the other side of the marble island to hide my cock from her view. Then I tilt my head and say, “You spilled some water on yourself.”

Elena glances down, and the next instant, she drops to the floor behind the island.

“I didn’t see much,” I say. Just your nipples which quite frankly looked perky as fuck.

“I have eyes. I know what you saw,” she snaps.

“If it’s any consolation, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” I try to make it better. Knowing Elena’s not going to come out of hiding, I grab hold of my t-shirt behind my neck and pull it off. I throw it to where she is and say, “Wear mine.”

“Thank you.” I hear her move, and then she finally gets up, holding her wet shirt in her hand.

Damn, she looks good in my shirt.

I instantly begin to harden again, and I have to take deep breaths to calm down my cock.

When I’m done admiring her, and my eyes go to her face, it’s only to see her staring at my chest. Her lips are parted, and her eyes are glazed over.

The corner of my mouth lifts into a smirk. “Glad to know you like what you see. Now we’re even.”

It snaps her out of it, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

I walk around the island and picking up the glass she put down in the sink, I pour water into it and then hold it out to her. “You were thirsty?”

“Thanks.” Our fingers brush when she takes the glass from me, and it sends an electric spark zapping up my arm.

Elena must’ve felt it, too, because her eyes snap up to mine. She tries to hide her reaction by drinking some water, and then she takes a step backward, putting some space between us.

She clears her throat then asks, “Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Want to keep me company?”

“Ah… okay.”

I gesture to the living room and follow her to the couch. I wait for her to pick a spot to sit and take a seat next to her. Turning my body toward hers, I say, “Tell me about yourself.”

She draws her bottom lip in between her teeth as she thinks of something to share.

God, I get the feeling I’m going to walk around with a permanent semi.

“I like to read,” she finally gives me something.

“Yeah? What?”


“What kind of fiction? Romance?” I tease her.

When her cheeks warm to soft pink, I know I guessed right, and it makes the corner of my mouth lift.

“Yes, romance,” she admits, and then she takes another sip of the water. “Your turn.”

“I don’t have time to read.”

My answer draws a soft chuckle from her, and it sounds musical. “Tell me something else,” she demands.

I like this. It’s the first time we actually get to talk. It’s relaxing.

“I was really close with my father. He was my best friend,” I admit a truth.

Elena’s eyes soften with compassion. “What’s your favorite memory of him?”

I think for a moment. “There are so many.” Placing my arm on the back of the couch, I pinch a strand of her hair between my forefinger and thumb. “Every Sunday, he’d grill steaks for us. We’d sit out on the veranda and talk about the most random things.”

A poignant expression settles on her features. “That sounds so nice.”

“You’re not close with your father?” I ask, even though she’s told me before, she means nothing to him.

Elena shakes her head.

“Is there a reason?” I tilt my head, keeping my expression calm because I want her to open up to me.

Elena glances down at the glass in her hand, and a long moment passes before she replies, “He just never loved me.”

“Your mother?”

Elena shakes her head. “I don’t know anything about her.”

Slowly, I nod, absorbing the information. Pushing my luck, I say, “Tell me what your life was like.”

She swallows hard and then takes a deep breath. “It was nothing like yours.”

I let go of the strand between my fingers and place my hand against the side of her neck. When her eyes lift to mine, I lean closer. “Tell me, little bird.” To encourage her, I add, “Give me something I can use against Dante.”

Instantly she lifts her chin, and fight sparks to life in her eyes. She takes another deep breath. “You know he beat me.”

Lying through my teeth, I say, “I only know what I saw, and that’s not enough to kill him.”

Her eyes dart away from me, and her features tighten. “What will be enough?”

“Give me the worst thing he’s done.”

Let me carry it for you, little bird. Open up to me.

“You’ll kill him for it?” she asks, still hesitating.

“Yes,” I promise. He’s already a dead man walking, but she doesn’t need to know that.

 The longer it takes Elena to tell me, the tenser the air grows.

Christ if he raped her… I don’t have a taste for torture, but for Capone, I’ll make an exception.


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