The Sainthood : A Dark High School Romance (The Complete Series)

by Siobhan Davis

  Another man enters the room, sitting down on Sinner’s other side. I recognize the scraggly beard and disinterested scowl from the initiation meeting. He’s another board member and another asshole probably salivating at the prospect of raping me.

  I can’t wait until they find out they can’t touch me.

  “Everyone welcome Harlow Westbrook,” Sinner says. Fists pound on top of the table in some weird supposedly manly ritual.

  I barely avoid an eye roll.

  “Let’s get down to business,” Sinner says. “I’d like to wrap this meeting up earlier than usual.” A nasty shudder works its way through me when he fixes me with a loaded look. “Because I’ve an important engagement after this.”

  Saint clenches his fists on top of his thighs, and I reach over, uncurling his fingers.

  Sinner concentrates on business, talking about shipments due in and some new clients. He mentions plans to attack The Arrows, warning junior members to be extra vigilant, but he’s deliberately hazy on the details. Then Saint gives a roundup of distributions for the next week, and he confirms the supply pipeline is up and running in Lowell Academy.

  Sinner resumes talking when Saint has finished his update. “Some of you may be aware that we’re diversifying our business interests, and I want to bring everyone up to speed. Smart businessmen know that spreading risk across various entities is a shrewd strategy, and we’re no different. Developing different income streams is a smart play, and it’s been our main focus this past year, but we need to do more to protect our interests and safeguard the future of this club. If one of our income revenues is hit, we want to ensure we’re not crippled because we have other income to fall back on. That is why the board has taken the decision to enter the sex trafficking trade.”

  Deathly silence greets his statement, initially, and then a few guys shift uneasily in their seats. Some wary expressions are traded around the table. It’s clear this is news to a lot of junior members.

  The hesitant reaction greatly displeases Sinner. He slams his fist down on the tabletop, and a few guys jump. Sinner leans forward, glaring at everyone seated around the table. “This is a good thing for The Sainthood.” He slams his fist down again. “A great thing, and we expect every member to fully support our initiative.”

  I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the snort dying to break free. Sinner’s as delusional as ever. Saint squeezes my hand under the table in warning, but I’ve got this. I’m bottling up all my frustration to unleash on him after we make our big revelation.

  Sinner straightens up, running his hands through his hair. His features even out, and he smiles, leaning back in his chair, as if he didn’t just throw a hissy fit like a toddler. He lets his gaze roam the table. “An opportunity opened up, and we jumped at the chance to expand our business interests. Right now, we’re testing the waters. We suffered a minor setback recently, but a new shipment will be arriving in a couple of weeks, and we expect demand to grow from there.”

  “How will this impact us?” a guy with multiple facial piercings asks.

  “It won’t impact you in the short-term,” Sinner says. “But when you become full members, you’ll be expected to help with deliveries.” A revolting smile slips over his mouth. “You’ll get an opportunity to sample the goods, so it’s far from a thankless task. Although no one is permitted to hurt the merchandise. Clients want them young, innocent, and unmarked.” Sinner licks his lips, leaning back in his chair, as he stares straight at me, daring me to challenge him.

  I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from throwing my knife into his cold, cruel heart.

  The meeting ends then, and chairs scrape as junior members exit the room. Bry stands, ready to leave. “Stay there,” Saint commands, eyeing Bry.

  Bry reclaims his seat without question, and we share a look. I straighten my shoulders and hold my head up, preparing for the showdown. The other three board members come into the room, blatantly leering at me, and my skin crawls. I gulp over the bile gathering at the back of my throat and grip Saint’s hand harder.

  “You can leave,” Sinner says, peering into Saint’s eyes. “We have some chores for your whore to attend to.”

  “Or they can watch,” Baldy says. “Might pick up a few tips.”

  I snort, unable to hold stuff inside any longer. “Trust me, my guys need no instruction on how to please a woman. They score an A-plus every time.” I let my full derision show on my face as I look Baldy over from head to toe. “Yeah, there’s definitely nothing they could learn from you. Unless you want to teach them how to be a spineless ugly fuck who rapes women to get his rocks off.”

  His chair falls to the floor as he jumps up. “You need to be taught a lesson. Cunt.” He spits on the floor, and I lean back in my chair, grinning. Bry is looking at me like I have a death wish, and I suppose that’s how it must look.

  “She will be taught a valuable lesson,” Sinner says, and his clinical tone raises goose bumps on my arms. “Get the fuck out,” he adds, jabbing his finger at Saint. “Lessons start now. You can update me on our other business after we’ve disciplined your whore.” A laugh rumbles from his chest, and the others join him.

  Saint whips his gun out, pointing it at his father. The board members laugh again, peering at Saint like he’s a naughty toddler who needs to be put in time-out. “I warned you not to call Harlow that,” Saint grits out, raising his gun and pointing it straight at Sinner’s skull.

  Sinner stands, walking toward us. “And I told you, you have no say in this matter. Unless you want your whore to fail initiation, and you know what happens to recruits who don’t pass.”

  “You’re not laying a finger on her,” Saint says, brandishing his gun at all the men. “None of you are.”

  Sinner grits his teeth as he comes around behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve got my hands on her now. What’re you going to do about that, huh?” He’s baiting his son on purpose, and I almost wish Saint would pull the trigger even though I know it’d end in a bloodbath and not all of us would get out alive.

  Saint stands, keeping his gun trained on his dad while he pulls the paper from his back pocket. He thrusts it at his father. “Invoke my right as Harlow’s husband,” Saint hisses.

  Sinner grabs the marriage certificate from his son’s hand, his nostrils flaring as he reads over it.

  “Now, take your filthy paws off my wife because the only men I’ll be sharing her with are Galen, Caz, and Theo, and the rest of you perverts can go fuck yourselves. Literally.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “YOU’VE DONE IT now, boy.” Sinner crumples the certificate in his hand, tossing it on the floor. “You…you…” He shoves at Saint’s shoulders, and Saint stumbles a little, grabbing the back of the chair with his free hand to steady himself. “You dare to overrule me? To deny me my right to fuck her? It’s a fucking initiation task!” he yells, spittle flying from his mouth.

  “You’ll pay for this, Saint. You put that fucking whore ahead of your own flesh and blood!” Sinner thumps his fisted hand over his heart. “After all I’ve done for you? You ungrateful little shit.” A muscle pops in his jaw as he visibly seethes. “I thought you were smarter than this. Is her pussy that fucking magical she nuked your brain cells?” He shakes his head, really on a roll now. “You let that cunt trick you into marriage, and now everything’s fucked!” he screeches, his eyes almost bugging out of his head. “You’ve fucked everything up!”

  He shoves Saint again, and I’m two seconds away from losing my shit. If he puts his hands on him again, I will not be accountable for my actions.

  Galen and Caz get up, standing behind Saint. They’re clearly sharing my thoughts, and they’re primed and ready to go into battle.

  Theo and I rise together, and I inch closer to Saint so we’re presenting a united front. We’re a solid fucking team, and it’s about time Sinner realized we’re no pushovers.

  “It’s true?” Baldy asks, coming toward us.


  “Yes,” Sinner barks. “They’re married.”

  Shock splays across Bry’s face as our eyes meet. He’s still sitting, but he’s alert and ready to intervene if necessary. I’d like to think he’d intervene on our behalf, but I honestly don’t know how strong his allegiance is to Sinner and whether he’d stand with him or against him. I haven’t forgotten how he insinuated he was keeping something from us during a previous conversation he and I shared, and while I trust my gut, and my gut says Bry is an ally, I can’t ignore the fact he is hiding something from us.

  “Then it’s decided,” a man with sandy-brown hair says. “Your son has spoken, and that’s that.”

  “You think I don’t know that!” Sinner roars.

  “It’s one of our most sacred rules,” Scraggly Beard adds. “As much as this is disappointing, we can’t dishonor tradition.”

  I glare at the prick. Gee, sorry you don’t get to gang-rape me after all.

  “Don’t throw the rulebook at me!” Sinner yells, picking up a chair and throwing it at his colleague. “I know the fucking rules!” he roars, as the man ducks down, and the chair crashes into the wall behind him, instantly breaking apart. Sinner lifts another chair, flinging it across the room this time. It flies through the window, shattering the glass, sending shards raining down on the floor.

  “Holy shit,” Caz whispers under his breath, pinning troubled eyes on Saint.

  Sinner is self-destructing before our eyes, and it’s terrifyingly fascinating to watch.

  Sinner grabs fistfuls of his hair, pacing the room, his boots crunching on glass underfoot. The other board members eye him warily, and he looks truly psychotic pacing the floor, yanking on his hair, and muttering to himself.

  Outside, shouts and raised voices can be heard, and I hope the chair landed on solid ground without injuring anyone.

  Sinner slams to a halt, narrowing his eyes and jerking his head in our direction. Then he flies across the room, making a beeline for Saint with clear murder in his eyes. I unsheathe my knife, stepping in front of Saint at the last minute.

  I point the sharp edge of my blade at Sinner’s chest, right where his heart is. “Move one more millimeter and you’ll impale yourself on my knife,” I warn. “No one threatens my husband. Especially not you.” Our eyes meet with a mutual expression of hatred. His dark pupils shine with loathing, and I imagine mine are the same. “Back the fuck up, asshole.”

  Saint’s hand lands on my hip, and he applies a little pressure, but I don’t need his subtle warning. As much as I want to drive my knife straight through Sinner’s heart, I won’t do it, because I refuse to throw my life away on his.

  I want vengeance. I want justice for my father. And that means Sinner behind bars. Death would be far too easy for a monster like him.

  “Sinner.” Baldy moves cautiously toward his president. “Step back.” His beady eyes move to mine. “You won’t get away with disrespecting the president like this. We have rules for a reason.”

  “Fuck your rules. You want me to take out the commissioner, then we’ll play this our way, or you can find yourself another assassin.”

  Sinner starts pacing again, mumbling to himself as he pulls strands out of his hair, and his crazy is really showing now.

  Tension is like invisible fog in the room as we all wait to see what he does next.

  I’m expecting more chair throwing, more yelling, and more attempts to hurt my husband, but he surprises us all.

  He stops pacing, rooting himself to the spot and lowering his head so his hair shields his face. A few tense beats pass, and when he lifts his head, he’s smiling.

  Like legit smiling.

  What the actual fuck?

  Saint cocks his head to the side, scrutinizing his dad’s face while the rest of us trade guarded, puzzled looks.

  “You know what, son?” He walks toward us, wearing the same lopsided smile. “It’s okay.” He slaps Saint on the shoulder. “This is a good thing.”

  My eyes narrow suspiciously, and Saint pulls me in closer to his side. “It is?” Suspicion laces his tone.

  “Of course!” Sinner’s eyes light up. “Giana would never take me back if I’d fucked her daughter.” He squeezes Saint’s shoulder. “You did me a favor, son. I owe you.” He winks at me, and my insides turn in on themselves. “Harlow’s a fine piece of ass, plus she’s got lady balls. You did good, boy.”

  My mouth hangs open. What is going on here? Is this an act, or he’s truly this insane?

  “Welcome to the family, sweetheart.” He yanks me into a hug before anyone can stop him.

  “Get the fuck away from me,” I snap as strong arms pull me back.

  “No touching means no fucking touching,” Saint grits out, wrapping his arms around me as I lean back against him.

  Sinner raises his palms. “I meant no harm. Scout’s honor. Harlow is my daughter-in-law. I would never harm a hair on her head.”

  An incredulous laugh bursts from my chest. “Sorry, did I miss something here? Did someone perform a lobotomy on your brain, and we missed it?”

  “Now, now, Harlow. There’s no reason to be mean.” He loses the grin, and a familiar cold glint reappears in his eyes. “I’m trying to mend bridges here. You could be a little more gracious.”

  I stare at him, truly at a loss for words.

  I’ve called Sinner a psycho before, but this is the first time where I genuinely believe he is psychotic, in the clinical sense, because this behavior is in no way normal. That’s what makes him so scary. He is completely unpredictable with a manic violent streak and no empathy or no moral code.

  Suddenly, pushing his buttons doesn’t seem like such a smart move, so I decide to play along. “You’re right,” I lie. “And I hate arguing. We should try to get along. It’ll be easier now that you’re no longer trying to rape me,” I add, because sometimes I just can’t stop myself. Not that I really believe he will stop. He’ll just adjust his plans. But, for now, we’ve bought some time.

  “Rape.” He rolls his eyes, like the very idea is unconscionable. “Please, Harlow. We both know you would’ve been begging for my cock.”

  “No, Neo. I really wouldn’t.”

  “Can we move this along,” Scraggly Beard says. “I need to wet my dick in one of the hoodrats.”

  “Show some respect!” Sinner barks, returning to his seat. “And we still have some business to discuss.” He plonks into his seat at the head of the table, waving his hands at us. “Sit!” he demands.

  We return to our seats, keeping our hands on top of the table this time. Bry’s eyes fixate on the identical wedding bands on my guys’ fingers, and he’s still wearing a hint of shock on his face.

  “Where are you with finding the bastard responsible for trying to kill you?” he asks, as if he didn’t just have a meltdown.

  “We’re handling it. It’s not gang connected. It was retaliation for a kill at the warehouse,” Saint explains. “It’s personal and we will deal with it.”

  “I want the specifics,” Sinner says, drumming his fingers on the table.

  “When we have all the facts, I’ll share them with you,” Saint lies.

  “See that you do.”

  “We have some intel,” Saint adds, extracting the piece of paper Bry handed him. Saint passes it to Theo. “Courtesy of Bryant. The Arrows have a big drugs shipment arriving next week via a new secret route.”

  “They’re expecting us to hit back,” Sinner says.

  “Yes, and they’re going to a lot of trouble to avoid an attack,” Saint says. “I say we grab a few reliable men, let them shadow the truck to their warehouse, and then we plan a full-scale attack.”

  Bry jerks upright in his seat, pinning Saint with a dark look.

  Saint ignores him, continuing to outline his plan. “The Arrows won’t suspect anything. They’ll expect their new route has worked, and when they least expect it, we’ll swoop in. Steal their cargo and set fire to their warehouse. Cut them off at the knees.”

 
Silence greets his suggestion, and the only sound in the room is the steady tick-tock of the clock on the wall.

  “I like it,” Sinner says, a minute later, looking at the other board members. They nod in agreement. “Email me the details.”

  “Already done,” Theo says, explaining why he was tapping away on his cell phone the past few minutes.

  “Good. All that leaves then is the matter of your initiation, Harlow.” He attempts a sugary smile, but it’s all wrong.

  “I’ve been giving that some thought,” Galen says, injecting himself in to the conversation. “Each initiate is given three tasks, but most of those are equal in status. Lo has already brokered the deal with Lowell Academy, her second task is null and void—”

  “Which is why I broached the subject,” Sinner replies, cutting his nephew off mid-sentence. He levels Galen with a withering look that confirms he doesn’t appreciate his interference. “We need to agree on a replacement task.”

  “That’s the thing,” Galen continues, undeterred. “I don’t believe we do. Your third task is a big ask.”

  “A fucking monster ask,” Saint agrees.

  “So, we think there is no need for a replacement task. Assassinating the commissioner is worthy of two tasks, and when Lo accomplishes it, she will be deemed to have successfully concluded initiation.”

  “Are you asking or telling me?” Sinner coolly replies.

  “Asking, of course.” Galen smiles politely at his uncle, disguising the fact he’d love to riddle him with bullets.

  “We’ve seen your great capacity for compromise tonight,” Theo says, feeding the arrogant beast. “We’re merely asking for an extension of that concession.”

  “She’s not getting out of this one.” Sinner points his finger at Saint.

  “No one is asking that,” I say. “I’m prepared to carry out your wishes where the commissioner is concerned. I understand the seriousness of it.”

  “Very well.” Sinner stands. “But it’s got to happen soon. I’ll contact you next week with the arrangements.”