by KL Donn
"You're safe, Harla," West says, pulling me into his body.
As soon as I'm in his grasp, I cry. "I thought you hated me," I grumble.
"Get that shit out of your head. Let me look at you," he says, holding me at arms-length. "Doc needs to see you."
I nod. Yeah, he does, and I’m worried about the baby. I don't dare voice that though.
"Where's Saint?" I ask softly as he guides me out of the Phoenix compound and into the night.
Air fills my lungs and relief washes through me. I didn't know if I would ever see West again.
"You doing okay?" he asks quietly. "Did they do anything to you?"
Flashes of Fang pushing his dick into my mouth fill my mind, but I shake my head. "No, they never got a chance."
He nods, looking relieved. "Good. The fucker’s already dead, not much more I can do to him now."
I laugh at how disappointed he sounds. "Are they all gone?"
"No, there were only a few of them there tonight. There's more out there. Someone will take over from Fang."
I swallow hard. "Will they be after me?"
"No, that's done. Fang wanted revenge for the death of Jimmy." Even though he's saying this, I don't believe him. His eyes hold something dark in them. Something that tells me this could be only the beginning.
He leads me to the car. “You’re going to be sore for a while.”
I nod. “Yeah, I think I have a broken nose and arm.”
He glances down at my arm that’s hanging limply at my side. “Shit, yeah. Lie down, we’ll be home soon.” He helps me into the car, Dad standing beside him. I ignore him, just as he has done to me since I’ve come to stay with him. I lie down and West immediately shuts the door.
“You need to tell her we were doing it to protect her,” I hear West say.
“Later,” Dad growls, and I don’t bother looking. A lone tear falls from my eye as West gets into the front and puts the car into drive.
I begin to relax the further he drives away from the Phoenix compound. “You never did say where Saint is,” I say softly.
His back straightens. “He wanted to come, but, Harla… the Saint you know isn’t there right now. First thing’s first, we have to get you checked out.”
I sit up, the pain of lying on my side getting too much.
“He loves you. I swear to you, Harla, he loves you more than anything. The man has demons. They’re rooted in him and I don’t think he’ll ever get rid of them, but you—when you’re with him, he’s a different man. Don’t give up.”
“Something I’ve learned since being with you, Dad, and Saint—I’ve learned that I’m worth more than being ignored. I was so happy to see Dad after Gigi died. I thought I was safe, that I was going to be around someone who loved me, who would care about me. Then I found out about you, and I couldn’t believe it. I know it was a shock, but I was immediately comfortable around you. Then there’s Saint. I gave him every single piece of me. Each of you have made me doubt that love I have for you and I can’t forgive that. Not right now.”
I lean back against the seat and close my eyes, tears slowly falling, and I let them. I’m tired and sore. All I want to do is lie in bed and forget everything.
18
Saint
My body jerks awake as I scream out in pain, my mind trying to catch up. When the next strike comes, hard and fast, pain erupts through my body. I feel the blood trickling down my back.
“Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good. Romans 12:21,” I hear him repeat, over and over, like a mantra, between the whooshing and the white-hot pain. My body is shivering, my teeth chattering, even with my skin burning as if the fires of hell themselves have taken residence. I jerk at the cold touch on my head as he marks my forehead. “Take the devil from this boy,” he repeats, and soon I hear the others all start chanting the same.
My stomach cramps. “Food… please.” It falls from my cracked lips, and I hear his heavy boots walks away.
“The devil must be starved from your body,” he repeats, the same thing he's been saying for days, as the metal door of my cage closes. A dizziness starts to wash over me as I watch a river of red running toward the door, as if it’s running for escape. That's when I realize it’s my blood.
I watch as the devil leaves my body while they break my skin, starve me, as they make the sign of the cross on me and pray. It will never be enough, because the devil isn’t in me. My mama was right.
I am the devil.
“Brother?” I know that voice. It pulls at something but not enough to lift my head off the cold floor.
“We got her. She’s back—bruised, but she is going to be okay.” The relief in his voice is evident, making me lift my gaze. I see him crouched down in front of the bars. “Harla, she’s back.” He speaks slowly.
“Dulce angel.” Sweet angel. The words fall from my lips, making him nod.
I curl into myself, closing my eyes as the darkness finds me, taking me home.
“He’s worse than before.” I hear the worry in West’s voice. I want to open my eyes, but they’re too heavy. I want to sleep, to fall into the darkness.
“You need to tell her.” I hear a low growl. West is pissed.
“She’s been through enough. We will talk when she’s ready.” There’s a dark laugh—Reaper.
“She’s your daughter. She thinks you don't want her.” There’s another deep growl.
“I will talk to Harla when I am ready,” Reaper replies.
That name grabs my attention. It pulls me back, sending a feeling through my body.
“Bello ángel.” Beautiful angel. The words tumble from my lips.
“Saint, you need to get the fuck up. It’s been days, brother.” West. He’s the only one who comes here. I open my eyes but blink at the sun coming in from a window. It blinds me.
“For everyone who does wicked things, hates the light, and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed.” I repeat John 3:20. Closing my eyes, the truth vibrates to the very bones.
I am wicked, blinded by the light.
I hear cursing when more feet join in. “He hasn’t eaten in days, either speaking in Spanish or repeating that messed up shit they drilled into him.” The pain in West’s voice is evident.
“Yeah, Harla’s not doing good either, hasn’t come out of her room, keeps asking about him.” It’s Doc. There it is, that name again. It changes the darkness, and the ghostly fingers that hold me down, lessen.
“Shit, did you see that, when you mentioned her name?” West says, his voice louder, nearer. “That's right. You hear that, Saint? Harla ain’t doing good, man. She’s asking for you.”
I lift my head at her name, but my body doesn’t work with me, every muscle aching. I growl low, frustrated when my body fails me, like I failed her.
The energy washes out of me as the darkness washes in.
“What is this place?” That voice! It finds me. Even in the darkness, it’s there, like a sweet melody running through my veins.
There’s a shuddering gasp, followed by a haunted cry. The sound has me growling, and I turn my head, the light burning my eyes.
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. John 1:5.” It comes out raspy. “I’m the darkness.” I close my eyes again.
“What's the matter with him?” Her voice is soft. “Why the fuck is he in a cell?” The sound of pain in her voice, hurts. I can feel it from here, her anguish.
“Saint can get this way. There's nothing wrong with him. He built this place himself,” West says, annoyed, causing me to growl because I know that it's directed at her.
“I didn’t say there was,” she responds heatedly. “Open the damn door!” she shouts. I hear West snort.
“Sorry, baby girl, but it ain’t going to happen. It would kill him, kill him, if he hurt you when he was the beast.”
“What the hell are you talking about, ‘the beast’? N
ow let me in.”
I growl, shaking my head. “Keep her out.”
“You won't hurt me.” There is so much conviction in her voice. I shake my head again when I hear the door slide open.
I flinch when I feel a soft touch.
“Saint?” I nuzzle into the touch. It’s not painful but warm, soothing. The beast raging around inside of me, lowers to the ground. No more snapping or growling.
Fingers run through my hair, down my cheek, and across my jaw.
“Saint, I love you.” A wetness hits my cheek, causing me to hiss in pain. I hear heavy boots running toward us.
“Stay away. He’s not going to hurt me.” Her voice is so strong. She stops running her fingers, so I nudge her hand, causing a painful laugh to leave her.
“How do I help him?” she asks, sounding so helpless
I hear a clicking I know to be West’s lighter, before smoke fills the air. “He hasn’t been this bad before. I’ve called Doc. He should be here soon.”
I feel someone prodding me, causing me to snarl.
“I’m here.” Her soft voice surrounds me, her nails running up and down my arm, soothing me instantly. “What’s the matter with him?”
“He has chronic depression, along with post-traumatic stress disorder brought on from his childhood. I don’t know how much he’s told you, but I’ve seen the scars. I never commented on them. He hasn’t mentioned them, so I didn’t want to bring them up. What he went through is not what any child should ever suffer. They punished him because he was different, because of the way his eyes change color.”
Harla gasps. Her fingers stop running down my arm. Instead, she lays her head against my chest.
“It’s been medically proven that irises can change color due to different emotions, especially anger, which happens with Saint. However, he believes that he’s wired wrong.” I growl low, causing the doctor to laugh.
“He’s not. He’s the product of his upbringing. Try and get him to eat something.”
I feel something against my lips. I lick it, tasting meat.
“Please.” At her voice, I open my mouth. The food tastes foreign, like sandpaper.
“He’s eating.” At her laugh, I chew and swallow. When another piece is placed against my lips, I do the same.
Just as the darkness starts to invade, I feel a soft kiss to my forehead, her fingers against my jaw. “Saint, we’re having a baby.”
I open my eyes for the first time, looking at my angel.
“What did you say?”
Her eyes widen at my gruff voice. “I’m having a baby—your baby.”
Before she can say anything, I grab her face in my big paw, crashing my lips to hers. Just like the moon, she lit up my darkness. I’m no longer scared of the light.
“Fucking finally,” West says. I didn’t even know he was here.
She pulls away from me. “Will you please eat some more food,” she pleads with me.
Glancing at her, anger hits me as I take her in. Her eyes have big black bruises under them, one of them red with blood. Her cheek is marred with a blue bruise, and there’s a bandage on her nose.
“Angel,” I whisper as I take in the mark on her temple. Looking down, I see her hand in a plaster cast. “Fuck.” I should have been with her. She’s hurt and I wasn’t there.
“I’m okay,” she reassures me. “I promise I’m fine.”
I don’t believe her. I witnessed what the nightmares of her gigi being killed did to her. I can guess that she’s fucking feeling everything that was done to her.
“Brother, Doc checked her out and has made sure she’s okay,” West tells me, and I glance at him. The stony look he has tells me that he’ll inform me what happened to her.
“The baby?” I ask, taking her face into my hands.
“The baby’s okay.” Her smile lights up her entire face, before she yawns.
“Let’s go,” I tell her as I get to my feet.
She frowns, looking worried. “Go where?”
“Bed. You need sleep.”
Her eyes soften. “You need to eat.”
“He’ll eat, right after he has a shower,” West tells her. “I’ll have Monica bring food to you. Harla, you need to eat too.” His eyes narrow on her. “You’ve not eaten properly in days.”
She gasps. “Snitch.”
He smirks as he shrugs. “Glad to have you both fucking back. Go shower, eat, and sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he says and walks away, Doc following him to the door.
“West,” Harla says, getting to her feet, and he turns to face us. “Thank you.” He nods, giving her a wink.
When they leave us alone, I pull her into my arms, her smell surrounding me. “I’m glad you’re back. I was worried,” she confesses, her voice soft.
“I don’t fucking deserve you, Angel. But you’re mine and I’m not letting go.”
She smiles. “I don’t want you to.”
My lips descend on hers, the kiss soft as I don’t want to hurt her.
“Let’s get you to bed.” Lust fills her eyes. “To sleep.”
She pouts, making me chuckle. She leans against me as we walk out of the room. My whole world is in my arms.
19
Harla
Glancing at the bed, happiness fills me as I look at Saint. He looks so peaceful lying on the bed, asleep. Last night went a lot better than I had imagined. When the doctor came, I honestly didn't have much hope that he could help. Seeing Saint looking so lost was something I never expected, something that hit me deep inside. My man, who’s usually so full of life, so burly and strong, looked utterly defeated. It made me hurt in so many ways, and yet, I look at him now and realize I never truly knew how strong he was until I saw him at what he considers his weakest. I don't think he'll ever know that he's not the devil he was made to believe he was but a man who's more magnificent than he could ever know.
Walking out of our room, I make my way down to the kitchen. I don't want to go too far in case he wakes up. I don't want him to think I left him. Once I'm in the kitchen, I open the fridge and grab a bottle of water.
"Where's Saint?" I spin around at Dad's voice.
"He's still asleep," I reply, bringing the bottle to my lips and taking a sip.
He nods. "Harla, since you've been here, I've..." he begins, and I wait to hear what he's going to say. I know West thinks he's been avoiding me to protect me. "I've kept my distance in the hopes of keeping you safe. I have no fucking idea how to raise a girl. Hell, I've no fucking idea how to raise a boy. I'm lucky West didn't need much teaching. That boy's smart as a tack. But you—with you, I wanted you safe. It's why I gave you to Ma. I knew she'd be the one to make sure you had everything you needed."
"I did. I had everything I could have ever wanted." Relief washes through him. "Except you." I tell him honestly. "I didn't have my dad, and you and Gigi kept West a secret from me. I hate that you did that. I don't understand why you did it and I don't think I ever will."
He runs a hand through his hair. "I wanted you to have a normal life, baby girl, one where the violence didn't touch you."
"But it did," I remind him.
"It shouldn't have!" he growls. "It shouldn't have been anywhere fucking near you. I had ensured that. It was the whole reason you were there."
"Sometimes, Dad, things have a way of not working out the way we planned. Your plan didn't work; fine, I get it. It wasn't your fault. So why have you ignored me since I've been here?"
He sighs. "I knew from the moment you crashed through those gates that I had a fucking mole. I didn't want that mole to know how much you fucking matter, so I kept my distance, held back from you so they wouldn't target you." He lets out a bitter laugh. "So much for that fucking happening."
"You thought that by pretending you didn't give a shit, I'd be safe?" I have to ask. It's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard.
"Yes, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat." He takes a step toward me, his features all soft. He's not Prez right no
w, he's my dad. "It didn't work and you got hurt. That's on me."
I close the gap between us. "No, Dad, it's not. It's on Rhonda. I'm alive. I'm okay. That's the main thing."
"Could have lost you," he mutters.
"You didn't. You still have me." I place my hand on my stomach. "You still have the both of us." So far, only Saint and Doc know. I think West may have overheard us last night. If he has, he hasn't said anything.
His eyes narrow. "I'm going to be a grandpa?"
I stand up straighter. “Yes.”
“Who else knows?”
I swallow back the hurt. “Only Saint and Doc.”
His jaw clenches. “I told that boy to stay the hell away.”
My eyes widen. “What?” I screech. “Why?”
His lips thin. “You are my daughter. I may not be the best fucking dad in the world, but I’m still your dad. I know Saint. I know what he’s capable of. I know the darkness he fights back every day. No one would ever be good enough for you. He went against me, against the brothers.”
I shake my head, disgusted that he thinks that. “The fact that you made him choose makes you the monster. Not him. Saint is the best man I know. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s perfect just the way he is, and he would never hurt me. You got it wrong, Daddy. He’s way too good for me.”
Dad looks as though he wants to say something, but I stop him. “Before everything went crazy, Saint was part of this family. Don’t make him feel any different.” I take another step closer to him. This time, I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight.
“Love you, baby girl,” he says gruffly, his arms going around me.
“Love you too, Daddy. Thank you for saving me,” I reply softly.
His arms convulse around me. “Always.”
Once we let go, he gives me a quick smile before turning on his heel and walking out of the kitchen. I take another sip of the water, still annoyed that Dad warned Saint off of me.