R E Y N A

Days had passed so slowly. It felt like my every moment was simply a repeat of the previous day. Everyday, I would wake up and approach the window. My mind would run and jump like it were a part of some obstacle course full of self-pity. I would then be interrupted by a woman who's company I began to enjoy, Rosalina. In kinder words, she would tell me that I should put an end to my stubbornness and to help the men that stole me from my searchings. When I would no longer respond, she would take my empty tray, absent of food, and walk out of my room. The saddest part was the lock that echoed through the room once she left.

No one dared to bother me after that until it was time for dinner. Instead of Rosalina, it would always be Giovanni who would do his best to convince me to help. My gaze would always avert from him only to find comfort in the outdoors. He would let out a loud sigh, throw my tray of food down in front of me, and walk out of my room.

At some point, I actually began to question if I was being cruel. It shocked me how foolish I had become to think of such a thing. I never asked to be here. My request was something simple—to be left alone. If they couldn't manage to do something so small for me, why should I bother to do anything for them?

So, as Giovanni throws down my tray of dinner, I keep my eyes locked on the trees. I watch the family of birds sleep, and I wish it were me who could be that free.

"Reyna, I know you're scared of Saint," Giovanni said. I could hear him, but I pretended as if I couldn't. Quite honestly, it was shocking to hear him say anything. He would typically throw the tray down and leave angrily.

He let out a sigh. "He's back in town. Just know that he is going to be pissed to hear that you haven't agreed to our bidding."

I couldn't help myself from turning to look over at him. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't bluffing about Saint's return. My shoulders fell when I saw there was not an ounce of dishonesty.

It never occurred to me that Saint was gone. I've always wondered why the tension in the entire house seemed to be at ease. There was more color that infiltrated the landscape without the devil being there to cast its brooding mood.

"What time will he be here?" I asked, my brows coming together in deep thought.

Giovanni pulled out his phone with a frown. "He's here right now."

My spine suddenly felt as though it was being suffocated with ice. I didn't want to see Saint, and I especially didn't want to be in the wrath of his anger. Every hair on my body stood up at attention, and it was accompanied by the extra beating in my heart.

An alert sounded from Giovanni's phone. My eyes followed his every movement as he checked to see who had contacted him. When his gaze sharply turned to me—I knew I was in trouble.

"Uh, he wants to see you," he stated. I quickly shook my head and began to move as far away from Giovanni as I could. I didn't want to be forced to see that man.

"Reyna, I'll be right there. I promise he won't hurt you," Giovanni said.

"You're lying. I know what he is capable of. I've seen the videos, the pictures, everything. All of the crime families are bad, but Saint—Saint is the worst," I said. He rolled his eyes at my words.

"I have to bring you to him. Just, please, don't make this difficult for me. I promised you that he wouldn't hurt you, and I have always been a man of my word," he ensured. I allowed my lips to seal after hearing his words. There was nothing else I could say. There were no more promises that could be made. My reality was Saint, and sadly, it wasn't some nightmare I could easily wake up from.

"Come on," he ordered. I walked over to him only to be harshly grasped by his firm hand. He unlocked my door and led me out of my room.

It was the first time I had ever seen anything other than the bedroom. The place was huge. The interior was very dark, but it still managed to look elegant. I would've loved every part of the place—if only the situation was different.

Giovanni guided me down a long hall. I couldn't help but notice the guards who would occasionally walk by. Each of the guards radiated with such power. My head instinctively glanced down at my shoes as we passed them.

When we arrived in front of a set of double doors, Giovanni pulled it open. That tension from days ago quickly moved back in. I could see Saint leaning in his chair with his arm thrown over the back of the couch. A glass of liquor was at his lips as he downed it back.

Saint sat his glass down on a table with his attention focused solely on me.

"I only need to speak with her. You are excused, Giovanni," Saint demanded. I shook my head in disagreement, my gaze shifting over to Giovanni. It was obvious that he wanted to stay, but he knew as much as I did that he couldn't. My heart was practically shattering when he offered me an apologetic look. When Giovanni walked out of the doors, it was almost enough to make me want to cry.

Saint and I were now alone—again.

"Come here," he said, tapping the empty spot beside him on the couch. It seemed like such an innocent gesture, but nothing about Saint was innocent.

I stared at the seat questionably. Something was daring me to do exactly as he said. I wished I could lie to myself and say that it was his mind that I was trying to understand. His mind was the only reason why I began to slowly walk over to him, but that wasn't true. It wasn't true at all.

Sitting down on the cool leather seat, I could just feel my body enter hell. His gaze was locked on me, studying me. I wasn't as advanced nor experienced with keeping my emotions away from my features. It was so clear that I was just a story for him to read—to hate—to use—to throw away.

When my eyes met his, I was prepared to look away, but his hand stopped me. I gulped, closing my eyes at the brush of his fingers along my jawline. Bits of tingles lingered on the trail of his fingers. I began to question if it were my imagination, or maybe he could feel that same spark.

"Angel," he said, bringing my attention to his potent blue eyes. Alcohol from his breath had infiltrated my nostrils with intensity. If he wasn't drunk, I'd be surprised. I tried to pull away, but he grabbed ahold of me before I could even move.

"I just want to talk to you," he muttered. My eyes widened at the sight of his finger tracing over my lips. He broke my trance to watch his finger against my lip.

"A-About what?" I asked. Without answering me, he leaned in closer. The smell of alcohol becoming more prominent and loud. A grimace had overtaken my facial features. For a moment, it looked as though he were going to kiss me, but instead, he leaned into my neck. His hand latched onto the holder for my ponytail before he slipped it from my strands. My freed hair fell down my back in waves.

"What are you d-"

"Shut up," he ordered.

Every movement he made, I could feel his lips graze my neck. His hand moved down my body almost as if he were teasing me. He gripped the bottom of my shirt and slowly began to pull it up. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked down to watch exactly what he was doing.

"Y-You said talk. That's not talking," I whispered out.

His hand had halted its movements before he chuckled darkly. I wasn't sure what I was expecting from him, but I for sure wasn't expecting him to actually pull away.

There was a glint that sparked his eyes. A glint that only grew as he gazed at my body. I quickly pulled my shirt back down to its place. He smirked, his eyes traveling back up to my eyes.

"You aren't as hideous as I thought," he chuckled. My frown deepened as my gaze had fallen to look down at my lap. I could hear him fixing himself another drink, leaving my brows to pull together. He already seemed drunk enough. I didn't think it was very smart to be attempting to make another drink. However, nothing I could ever say would have any matter.

"You aren't as Saintly as your name conveys," I muttered.

He grasped my attention with little to no effort. All he did was tug at his tie, and it was enough to leave me parched. I followed his movement with my eyes as he pulled the tie off and threw it across the room. It was something so small, yet it felt so intimate.

"You're staring," he pointed out. I quickly averted my eyes elsewhere, my breathing labored. Heat was beginning to brim my cheeks but I pushed it away. I wasn't going to allow him to openly read me any longer. I had to put up a front if I wanted to make it out of here alive. I needed to be strong instead of weak.

"Your mother," Saint stated. My head snapped back into his direction. I could feel my eyes widening and my body leaning forward in anticipation. My ears were dying to hear something—anything. "I will help you find her."

"W-Why? Why would you do that?" I asked. There was a catch. There always has to be a catch. It wasn't like the mafia to offer their assistance without something in return.

He smiled, but it wasn't the typical smile. It was a smile full of emptiness and induced terror. It was a smile that was enough to make my body still. It was a smile that grasped my heart and squeezed it so tight. It was a smile of a puppet master who was letting me know he held my every string.

"Because you are going to help me. I need to find a man, Viktor Ivanov. He's been off the grid ever since he was a baby. No one even knows what he looks like, but you will find out. You will find out his identity and you will locate him. Once you do that, I will devote my life to finding your mother," he stated. "Do we have a deal?"

"H-How do I know I can trust y-"

"Angel, you've read my files. You know what I am capable of, but you also know that I never back down from my word. A favor to me is a favor I will remember forever. Do you understand me?" He raised a brow.

I gulped before nodding my head. "I do."

"Good."

"What about after I help you, and after we find my mother? What will happen to me?" I asked.

He seemed to think about it for a moment. "I will decide that at a later time. So, do we have a deal?"

I thought about my mother. I've always dreamed of getting her back no matter what. It didn't matter if I hacked into every database in the world, I would never have enough muscle to actually bring her back. With his deal, I would. Even if it meant dying in the end, I would do all I could to bring my mother back home.

"We do."