“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.”