Blood Means Nothing

TEN

The sun is high, and I see a figure climbing through my curtains.

Who in their right mind climbs through my window?

Standing from my bed, I march over to my window, pulling the curtains open. I'm met with the face of Saint.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask, helping him through the window. Instead of answering my question, he stares at my neck.

I covered the bruises on my neck quickly. "I heard what happened with your father," he says, eyeing me with sympathy.

"How did you find out about that?" I mutter, sitting down on my bed. "That doesn't matter. Are you ok?" he asks, walking closer to me. "It would be better if you would leave me alone and stop following me," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"Can I not see my future wife?" he remarks, sitting beside me.

My jaw clenches at the word wife: "Call me that again, and I will chop off your dick."
Saint lets out a throaty laugh. "I would let you touch my dick any day," he says, smirking down at me.

He is one sick motherfucker. Maybe that's why I'm so attracted to him.

My cheeks flush hot, and I quickly look away. "Why do you want me, Saint?" I asked.

I've never had a person go to these lengths to see me.

Saint leans into my ear. "You're the first person ever to be brave enough to threaten. You're the first woman that I've craved," he whispers. I shivered involuntarily at his words.

"Sorry to break it to you. I don't want you," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

We both know that's a lie. I want him so badly, but loving someone would not end well.

Saint chuckles again, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "If you want me, you can have me. If you don't, then you will have me. You choose princess".

I scoff at his words, standing from the bed. "I'm no fucking princess," I mumble. He grabs my wrist gently, pulling me back onto the bed.

"You're my princess," he says, smiling at me.

I let out a laugh at his stupidity.

Who would've thought the scary Saint could be so nice?

"You should go on a walk with me," he suggests. "You want me to take you out in front of my brothers so we can go on a walk?" I retort.

Saint chuckles, shaking his head. "No, we are going to sneak out the window." Saint stands, holding a hand out to help me up. "Come on, it will be fun," he says, staring down at me.

I sigh, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the windows.

We sneak outside without being seen. It takes us several minutes until we get near the forest line. There's no one around, though. Not even dogs or cats. The whole neighborhood is quiet and eerie.

Even though we are walking silently, it's not uncomfortable; it's peaceful. I feel calm and happy.

What if Arlo was wrong about Saint? What if Saint is just misunderstood?

"Just to let you know, I'm not a part of the German mafia. Arlo is just an old friend," I tell him as we walk deeper into the forest.

Lies. I rule the German mafia, but he doesn't need to know that.

"A fifty-three-year-old man is your old friend?" He asks as his pace becomes slower. "Yeah. He helped me when I was younger," I tell him, looking at the ground and suddenly feeling dizzy.

He hums in response.

"Do you think we can walk back? I don't feel well," I tell him, gripping his arm for support. Saint's eyes are drawn to me, worried.

"Are you okay?" he asks. Before I could respond, my knees buckled under me. His strong arms wrapped around me before I hit the ground. My vision turns blurry, and my eyes roll back, darkness overtaking me.