by Monica James
Alek gently places me onto something soft—leather, I think—and coaxes me to lie down. I go willingly as my will to fight is dead.
Saint is…dead. He is dead because of me.
“Drive,” Alek orders, suggesting that I’m lying in the back seat of a car.
The tires squeal as we take off into the night, our backdrop the burning castle, which once stood tall and proud. The silence is deafening.
“красная долина,” Alek mumbles under his breath. “Irony at its best, for what I see before me, is a red valley indeed.”
I have finally uncovered the meaning behind the name, but it doesn’t matter. Everything is lost.
Gone.
Alek brushes his fingers through my hair, and I allow it. I’m too exhausted to fight. What do I have left to fight for? The only reason is gone, and I never got the chance to say goodbye. In my naïve mind, I actually believed we would be okay.
But he always knew to save me, he would have to sacrifice himself.
Closing my eyes, I allow the tears to fall as I express my biggest regret. “I didn’t even say it,” I whisper in a broken voice.
“Say what, aнгел?”
The name only has me weeping harder. I don’t want him to use it because it was his; it was ours. But to hear it means he will live on forever. In my mind. And in my heart.
“I didn’t even say I…love you back, and now…he will never know.”
“He knew,” Alek says softly, commanding I sleep. And for once, I do what I’m told.
Saint would be so proud.
Day 92
“DOES IT HURT?”
I shake my head because it doesn’t. My skin is numb. So is my mind.
Weeks have passed, but it still feels like yesterday when my world changed forever. I can still hear his voice and see those chartreuse eyes. But as dusk sets upon me, night after night, a small piece of his memory is lost to the wind.
“We’re almost done.”
I wish I could make conversation, but I can’t. It hurts to speak because with words comes questions, questions I don’t want to face. I just want to live in the darkness because I once felt safe here. But I have lost that feeling as I will never be safe again.
“It looks awesome. Take a look.” The man passes me a mirror, but I wave him off. I don’t need to see it. That’s not the reason I got it.
I jump up from the table, paying in cash because I have to be careful not to leave a trail. That’s my life now. Always looking over my shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
A black truck idles by the curb. A foe is now a friend. “All done?” asks Max as I get into the passenger seat. Max was the one who drove us away from the burning mess. He was the one Saint trusted.
I nod, buckling up.
We take the backroads as we can’t be too vigilant now that the hunter has become the prey. A soft song plays over the radio in Russian, and thanks to me studying day and night, I can now recognize some words.
“Alek has been trying to find someone to help. So far, no luck.” No surprise as we’re fugitives now.
The orphanage, which has been my sanctuary, comes into view, and when I look at the high walls, I don’t see them as my prison anymore. I see them as keeping out the noise. Max parks the car around back, using the garage to keep the vehicle out of sight.
We exit in silence, the sun making way for the gray clouds as summer has long passed us by. Sister Albina opens the side gate, peering from left to right before gesturing us in. I hate that my presence endangers them, but I have no other place to go.
I don’t have a passport anymore as it’s back at the villa and god knows what Drew has done with it, so I can’t go to the American consulate. Not that it matters, however, because the moment I stepped within three feet, hoping that maybe the consulate could help, black vans swarmed me, warning me that I’m a wanted woman. I must pay for what I did to The Circle.
Oscar, Astra, and Borya may have been the main players, but there are others who seek revenge for what I, for what we did to their kin. Alek is seen as a traitor, and he too is now hunted.
The night of the explosion destroyed Alek’s home, but it strengthened the need for someone to rule. At first, it was believed Alek perished in the fire, but when his body wasn’t found, rumors spread, and his fate was doomed.
He was believed to have instigated it all as he wanted to flee to America with his American whore to start a new life. He had gone soft and wasn’t cut out for his life of crime. The fact he paraded me around and showed weakness by being kind confirmed the rumors.
No doubt, Astra and Borya’s men were the ones who started the witch hunt. No one knows the truth but us. The rest, we can only hope, are dead.
We have a target on our backs and, it goes without saying, a large bounty on our heads. The most feared man in all of Russia is now the most wanted, so we are on our own. No one will dare help us because it’s their life if they do.
But Mother Superior has proven not to be just anyone. She opened her doors without question when Alek called, begging for sanctuary. No one would think to look for us here because no one knows Alek has close ties to this place.
We walk down the long corridor, and when we enter the orphanage, the happy shrills of children welcome me home. They run forward to hug me tightly, warming what remains of my broken heart. Sister Albina can read my fatigue and tells them we can play later.
I amble down the hallway, wishing I could appreciate the new finger painting taped to the walls. But all I want to do is go to my small room and lock myself away from the world. The moment I open the door, I sigh because a small part of me believes I will see him.
He’ll tell me it was all a bad joke. That he is alive. And he is mine.
But it never happens because he is dead.
Saying his name is too painful, so I merely think it from time to time. But what I did today is a forever reminder that no matter what happens, he will never leave my body or mind. I may not be able to say his name, but I will look upon it and remember how it felt to be his.
Closing the door, I take off my baggy sweater and toss it onto the single bed. Mother Superior insisted I take a nicer room, but this is all I need. Simple lodgings while I wait…but wait for what? Divine intervention hasn’t shown me the way, not that I would expect He would. I’ve been locked out of the pearly gates for good.
Slipping off my tank, I stand in front of the mirror that hangs off the back of the door. Gently unraveling the bandage, I gasp at what stares back at me. Although red and inflamed, its beauty still shines through because how can a name that denotes nothing but holiness be anything but beautiful.
Rubbing my fingers over the raised letters, I smile, allowing the tears to fall. It seems fitting that my first tattoo is for him because I owe everything to him…to Saint.
A single word in a cursive font tattooed on my flank. Saint was a sinner, and now, thanks to his name, I’m a saint. His tattoo read sinner. Mine reads saint. He is forever inked on my skin, just as he’s embedded on my soul.
Peering out the window, I quash down the voice screaming at me that he isn’t dead. He wouldn’t give up that easily. That voice gives me hope, but my hope died the day Saint did.
I take care to put ointment on each letter, remembering the way his fingers caressed my skin just the same. Is this why Saint covered his body in tattoos? Did the pain help him feel?
Capping the tube, I toss it onto the bed and hunt for a fresh T-shirt. Needing to keep busy, I sit cross-legged on the floor and reach for my Russian textbook. It helps to keep my mind busy and the demons at bay.
Lost in words which are still so foreign, I don’t hear someone pounding down the hallway until my door bursts open. I reach for the knife under my bed, ready for battle, but when I see it’s Alek, I place it back.
His refined looks are no more. He’s grown a full beard, his hair is scruffy, and his clothes are non-designer. He no longer looks like the billionaire I first me
t. Saint left me in Alek’s care because he believed Alek would be able to help me leave this country for good. But how wrong he was.
The lingering guilt, my only friend, bubbles to the surface because when I muse over our situation, I can’t help but feel responsible for his death because it was in vain.
“I’m sorry to burst in, but I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
He attempts to catch his breath, which alerts me that someone was following in hot pursuit. I don’t have a chance to speak because who I see robs me of any words.
I blink once. Twice. But she’s still here. They both are.
“Sara?” I squeak after seconds of staring at her, mouth opening and closing in shock.
I thought she perished because Alek tried everything to find her. Thanks to our limited resources, though, we had presumed the worst when he came up empty. But here she stands. She’s free.
“Hi, Willow.”
“You’re a-alive?”
She nods, biting her lip. “It’s thanks to him. He was always going to save me.”
I close my eyes, unable to face this without crumpling into yet another mess. It seems she can’t say his name either. But the woman beside her doesn’t share the sentiment. What is she doing here? I thought she’d be long gone by now.
“His name was Saint…my brother, who saved all of you.”
Opening my eyes, I take in Zoey Hennessy. She barely looks like the person I once remember her to be. She looks healthy and strong. Not the lapdog she once was.
Alek opens his mouth, but she silences him with a wave of her hand. How the tables have turned. “Get up,” she spits, curling her lip in disgust when she looks at my feeble frame.
“Fuck you,” I curse, not interested in being judged. She may not need to grieve Saint, but I do.
“Really? My brother saves you, and this is how you choose to live?” She flicks her hand with distaste around my small, dank room. “I thought you were a fighter.”
“I have nothing left to fight for,” I miserably confess, hating how weak and pathetic I sound.
“Bullshit! Get up,” she commands once again.
I am done with her self-righteous shit. I’m happy she got her life back on track, but that doesn’t give her the right to come in here and bark orders at me.
Sara shuffles her feet, and I notice she has on a pretty pair of sandals. I’m glad she’s no longer in rags.
“Get out, Zoey. I don’t want to talk to you.”
She turns her arrogant nose in the air and folds her arms across her chest. She isn’t going anywhere. “You owe him this.”
Zoey’s stubbornness must be a Hennessy trait because I can hear Saint’s tenacity in her tone, and if she’s anything like her brother, she won’t leave until she has the last word.
Standing angrily, I stalk forward, leveling her with a gaze filled with nothing but hatred. “You don’t think I know that? I owe him everything!” I cry, allowing the angry tears to burn my cheeks. “He sacrificed his life to save mine, but how can I ever repay him? He’s dead!”
My wrath was supposed to scald Zoey, but it seems to have the opposite effect. “There she is. The fighter I need.”
“What are you talking about?”
She smirks, and my god, I stagger back because she looks so much like her brother. “I need you. I need all of you.”
Sara stands tall for the first time ever while Alek rubs the back of his neck.
“What’s going on?”
Time stands still as I measure my breathing…
In…
Out…
“I need all of you to help me.”
“With what?”
Zoey reaches into her back pocket, producing her cell. Her fingers hover over the screen, swiping with a poised confidence. When she passes it to me, I look at it like it’s a live grenade.
“With this?”
With trembling fingers, I accept the offering, but nothing can prepare me for what I see. “No,” I whisper, blinking rapidly, but the image is still there. “That’s not p-possible.” Everything closes in around me, and I suddenly can’t breathe.
“It’s very possible. Look at the poster on the wall. Look at the date.”
I do as she says, still unsure what I’m seeing because surely, this is a cruel trick.
“No,” I state more firmly this time because I don’t want to believe this. Because if it’s true, it means…
“He’s alive.”
Running a quivering finger over the blurred image of his face, I can’t deny that it looks like him. Like my Saint. And the poster behind him, advertising a night market in the main street of Moscow, reveals he was alive as of two days ago. But the picture depicts a startling scene.
He isn’t there by choice as he is being shoved by an unknown assailant into the back seat of a car.
“I-I saw him d-die.” My eyes are fixed to the screen, waiting for Zoey to yell surprise! This is her way of getting back at me for everything I’ve done to her.
But she doesn’t. “Did you? No one found his body, and that picture proves he’s still alive.”
My mind flicks over the last moments I saw him. He was shot, and then the room exploded around him because he detonated the bomb strapped to his chest. But she’s right. From what Alek and I could find, he wasn’t listed as one of the dead.
But I can’t accept this. It’s too painful if she’s wrong.
“Get out of h-here! All o-of you!” I drop the phone, unable to look at the man who looks like Saint a second longer. Turning my back, I thread my fingers through my snarled hair, unable to accept this as truth.
But Zoey won’t give up. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m telling you the truth.”
“How do you know?” I spin around, unable to keep my feelings under control.
I’m expecting her to break into laughter, ridiculing me for being such a naïve fool. But she does neither. She takes a long breath, leveling me with nothing but sincerity. “Because…I was the one who blew that hellhole to the ground.”
Nothing I can say will express what I’m feeling right now. But it doesn’t matter because Zoey speaks for us all.
“He’s alive…I know where he is…and I need your help to get him out.”
They say one’s life flashes before their eyes before they die, which is why I am certain I’m seconds away from embracing death. I surrender to the darkness, unsure what the light will bring.
FOREVER MY SAINT, Volume Three coming September 2019!
Read other books by Monica James
My wonderful husband, Daniel. I love you. Thank you for always believing in me. You’re my favorite.
My ever-supporting parents. You guys are the best. I am who I am because of you. I love you.
My agent, Kimberly Brower from Brower Literary & Management. Thank you for your patience and thank you for being an amazing human being.
My editor, Jenny Sims. What can I say other than I LOVE YOU! Thank you for everything. You go above and beyond for me.
My proofreader—Lisa Edward—More Than Words, Copyediting & Proofreading. You are amazing. I owe you dinner.
Lana Kart—best Russian translator ever. PS. I’m expecting voice messages every day!
Sommer Stein, you NAILED this cover! Thank you for being so patient and making the process so fun. I’m sorry for annoying you constantly.
My publicist—Danielle Sanchez from Wildfire Marketing Solutions. Thank you for all your help. Your messages brighten my day.
A special shout-out to: Christina and Lauren, Elle Kennedy (I LOVE YOUR FACE), Lisa Edward, SC Stephens, Vi Keeland (I LOVE YOUR FACE TOO), Penelope Ward, Adriane Leigh, Geneva Lee, Pam Godwin, Natasha Preston, Staci Hart, Natasha Madison, Len Webster, Rachel Brookes, J.L. Drake, Audrey Carlan, BJ Harvey, K.A. Tucker, Kylie Scott, Mia Sheridan, Tijan, Tina Gephart, Kimberly Whalen, Gemma, Louise, Heyne, Random House, Kinneret Zmora, Hugo & Cie, Planeta, MxM Bookmark, Art Eternal, Carbaccio, Fischer, Harpe
r Brazil, Bookouture, Egmont Bulgaria, Brilliance Publishing, Audible, Hope Editions, USA TODAY/ Happy Ever After, Buzzfeed, BookBub, PopSugar, Love Letters Convention—Berlin, Aestas Book Blog, Natasha is a Book Junkie, Hugues De Saint Vincent, Romance Writers of Australia, Paris, New York, Sarah Sentz, Ria Alexander, Rosa Sharon, Virginia Tesi Carey, Amy Jennings, Gel Ytayz, Jennifer Spinninger, Vanessa Silva Martins, Denise Reyes—Dreamy Reads, Amalie—Amalie Reads, Megan—Steamy Reads Blog, Sofia—Beddable Reads (Your videos are amazing), Cheri Grand Anderman, Lauren Rosa, Kristin Dwyer, and Nina Bocci.
To the endless blogs that have supported me since day one—You guys rock my world.
My bookstagrammers—This book has allowed me to meet SO many of you. Your creativity astounds me. The effort you go to is just amazing. Thank you for the posts, the teasers, the support, the messages, the love, the EVERYTHING! I see what you do, and I am so, so thankful.
My reader group and review team—sending you all a big kiss.
My beautiful family—Mum, Papa, my sister—Fran, Matt, Samantha, Amelia, Gayle, Peter, Luke, Leah, Jimmy, Jack, Shirley, Michael, Rob, Elisa, Evan, Alex, Francesca, and my aunties, uncles, and cousins—I am the luckiest person alive to know each and every one of you. You brighten up my world in ways I honestly cannot express.
Samantha and Amelia— I love you both so very much.
To my family in Holland and Italy, and abroad. Sending you guys much love and kisses.
Zio Nello, Zio Frank, Zia Rosetta, and Zia Giuseppina—you are in our hearts. Always.
My fur babies— mamma loves you so much! Buckwheat, you are my best buddy. Dacca, I will always protect you from the big bad Bellie. Mitch, refer to Dacca’s comment. Jag, you’re a wombat in disguise. Bellie, you’re a devil in disguise. And Ninja, thanks for watching over me.
To anyone I have missed, I’m sorry! It wasn’t intentional!
Last but certainly not least, I want to thank YOU! Thank you for welcoming me into your hearts and homes. My readers are the BEST readers in this entire universe! Love you all!