Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
My eyes go wide when I realize he’s turning around to the donations box with a key in hand.
What the actual fuck?
The multiple homicide this bastard committed was only a step on his road to self-improvement, and my arrival is an inconvenience he believes he can buy his way out of, just like he had when he paid someone for an alibi. This time, he wouldn’t even be using his own money.
I can’t believe this.
“Told you,” Saint says in a cold voice and gets up from the chair. He’s calm as ever, and his sudden move throws Galanis off guard. The key falls to the floor as the man from my nightmares backs away toward the religious picture behind him.
“I will call the cops if you put one finger on me.”
I blink, struck that he has no idea death might come for him too, as unexpectedly as it did for my family, but Saint doesn’t hesitate. I see a tiny bottle in his hand, and a piece of cloth, and then he’s shoving Galanis against the wall, with the cloth pressed to his face.
The chair swallows me as I watch my knight wrestle with the beast from my past, but by the time the sharp scent of whatever Saint used reaches me, the struggle is over.
I jump to my feet, pulled out of my stupor. “No! Wait. He… Is he dead?” I utter as Galanis slides to the floor.
Saint frowns, glaring at me as if I just told him aliens have attacked. “No. But it’ll be easier to deal with him if he’s not screaming. I’ve had enough of his yapping anyway. Figured his words were enough proof that he doesn’t deserve to live.”
I rush over with my head ringing. “Yes, but not like this! You heard him. Everything I went through is meaningless to him. He doesn’t deserve to die unconscious! I need him to know why he’s dying.” I’m breathing hard as Galanis’s words play back in my head, filling me with rage again and again. It’s as if he changed something in me. I was at a crossroads, but now I won’t stray from my path until all those who wronged me are dead.
Saint takes out a small Ziploc bag and puts the bottle and the cloth inside. His eyes settle on me as he contemplates the body at his feet. “So you’ve made your decision? We’re killing him?” he asks, staring at me. I swear the ‘don’t you dare change your mind again’ is waiting to be spoken out loud.
“Y-yes,” I say, breathing heavily as I pull the knife out, but he puts his hand on mine.
“Rowan. You just said you don’t want to kill him while he’s unconscious.”
I lower the knife, grateful that he’s looking out for my needs even when he’s annoyed with me. “Right. How long until he wakes up?”
Saint rubs his chin. “It will be a while. We can’t just wait around here. I guess we need to take him.”
I put the knife back into the sheath and give him a kiss on the lips, still shaken by what just happened. “Thank you.”
Saint exhales and puts his chin on the top of my head as we both stare at the limp form on the floor.
“I live to please.”
Chapter 19
Saint
We barely managed to reach the cabin before the snowfall became a white wall. It would have been inconvenient to get stuck somewhere with an unconscious pastor in the trunk, especially in this weather, but now that we’re safe, I can calm down. The hot chocolate in my cup has the faintest aftertaste of chili, and I lean against the doorframe, watching Galanis struggle in the chair I’ve fastened him to.
He can’t get away, of course—I made certain of that—but I can imagine waking up in a strange place, in a room covered with sheets of plastic and dolls watching you from behind the translucent film would make anyone frantic.
I didn’t put the toys in the room to freak him out. The small nursery just happens to be the farthest away from the living room and least in use.
Rowan hovers around Galanis, giving him more attention than the bastard deserves. He’s squeezing the knife I gave him, his eyes are wide and attentive, but for once, I’m not sure if he’s frightened or excited.
Maybe he’s psyching himself up. After all, this is going to be his first kill. Mine was tough too. My uncle expected it of me, and when it happened, I wasn’t ready. He later apologized for pushing me, but not wanting to do harm and not causing harm are two different things. It’s been years since. I’ve gotten used to death and all the inconveniences it came with, but I still remember the taste of blood on my lips as it squirted straight in my face that first time.