He wants to be the one to break me, after all.
I can tell Jon Eric and Finnegan are nervous by the stiffness of their shoulders, but when John Eric speaks, his tone is surprisingly casual.
“Hey man, we’re just having a bit of fun.”
Saint takes a menacing step forward. Raising his hand, he crooks a finger.
“Come here, Mallory.”
I don’t hesitate to obey, which speaks to exactly how terrified I am right now. Shoving past the psychopaths, I hurry to Saint and slip behind his back. The stare-down between all three of them continues for several moments more, but Jon Eric finally sniffs and shakes his head.
“Shit. No bitch is worth this. Come on, Finn.”
The two make their way down the aisle toward us, but Saint doesn’t move, forcing them to squeeze around him. I grab onto the back of Saint’s soft t-shirt and bury my face against his back as they pass by, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. They don’t try to touch me as they continue on their way, but I don’t let go of Saint.
We stand in total silence until his low voice rumbles, “They’re gone.”
Exhaling, I immediately release him, like I’ve been burned, and take a step back. He slowly turns to face me, his eyebrow raised and full lips quirked.
“Didn’t take you for the clingy type.”
“I didn’t take you for the hero type,” I murmur, gazing up at him, feeling oddly shy.
He scowls. “I’m not your fucking hero. Like I said, I don’t like others playing with my toys. They needed to be made aware that if they touch you, I’ll kill them.”
He sounds so serious, a shiver races through me.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask, massaging my fingertips over the spot that Jon Eric had gripped. Is he following me now?
His nostrils flare in irritation, and he turns his gaze away. “Liam asked me to come down and tell you he wasn’t going to make it. Something came up.”
He would have surprised me less if he’d said he wanted to dress me up like slave-girl Princess Leia, with the chain and everything. Passing on a message for his friend just seems so … normal. Nothing about Saint ever seems normal and I wasn’t even aware that word existed in his world.
“Okay, well … I guess I’ll go back to my room, then.” I don’t know what else to say, and I’m not about to admit I’m scared shitless to walk outside in the dark by myself now. What if Jon Eric and Finnegan are out there waiting for me? Fear grips my insides, and before I can stop myself, a tremor vibrates through me.
Saint lets out a heavy sigh. “Fuck. Do you want me to walk you back?”
The irony of this situation isn’t lost on me. Saint, the person I should fear most, is offering to escort me to my dorm to protect me from people even more terrible than him.
Better the devil you know, I guess.
After a beat, I nod, then glance away from him. “That’d be really … really nice of you.”
I look at him again in time to witness the roll of his stunning eyes, as if he finds the very notion that he could be nice revolting. “Don’t get the wrong idea. This doesn’t change anything between us.”
“Of course not,” I immediately agree out loud, even if I have my doubts.
“Let’s go, I don’t have all night.” His tone is gruff and impatient, but he doesn’t hurry ahead of me as we begin making our way out of the library. He keeps pace with me, and stays close, though not so close that he’s touching me. It’s comforting without being overwhelming.
When we step out into the night air, I stumble slightly as my trembling increases. For a moment, I’m not sure I can keep going. What if they’re out there? What if they’re hiding, waiting?
“Stop doing that.” Saint’s large hand falls on my shoulder. The weight grounds me and I feel my fear dissipate enough that I can think straight again. I glance up at him, and he’s looking down at me. He doesn’t seem concerned, necessarily, but he doesn’t appear annoyed either.
I suppose that’s positive.
“Get your shit together, Ellis. I’m not going to carry your ass.”
I almost laugh, because it’s such a Saint thing to say.
We walk for some time in silence, and it almost seems as if we’ve come to a kind of truce, but I’m not dumb enough to believe it’s that simple.
“You must be a fucking moron to try and face down those two dipshits,” he scoffs at last, ending the hush between us. “I probably should’ve let them do what they wanted. Maybe it’d have taught you to keep your nose out of things that aren’t your business.”
I jab my tongue in my cheek, processing what he just said. “You would have let them rape me?” I rasp after a long pause. His jaw clenches, and out of my peripherals, I see his fists tighten too. Instead of telling him that I know he’s full of shit, I continue in a low voice, “They were going to hurt someone. Badly. I couldn’t just stand by and let them do what I think they were going to do. What I … think they did to Nick Reynolds last year.”
He stops walking just so he can stare me down with wide eyes that gradually narrow as he processes what I’ve just said. Carving his fingers through his blond hair, he gives his head a jerky shake. “You have a savior complex or something? Bad things happen, Ellis, that’s life. And the worst part? You’re fucking small.”
“I—” I start, but he keeps going, completely ignoring me.
“You’re what? Five feet, a hundred pounds, soaking wet? You. Can’t. Save. Everyone.”
I look up at him, stunned. “I know that, fucker, and I’m five-foot-one, for your dickwad information. I wasn’t talking about saving people. I was talking about stopping a literal crime from happening,” I say even as the voice in my head reminds me of all the ones I’ve committed.
Thank god Saint can’t read minds.
Instead, he sends mine into panic mode when he cups my chin and drags my focus up to his eyes. “You really think those two would be held accountable for that shit? Jon Eric’s crazy bitch mom will probably be president one day and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you knew some of the people Finnegan’s dad has defended. Those two have never been held accountable before, and they won’t be any time soon.”
He’s right, I realize, but I know he hasn’t ever been held accountable either. He, Jon Eric, and Finnegan all live in a world I just don’t understand, where they can do horrible things to people and no one bats an eye, and everyone continues to worship them. It’s infuriating, and even though I know Saint would never do the things Jon Eric and Finnegan have done, he’s far from innocent.
Just look at everything he’s done to me.
Why though? Why me?
I want to ask, but I know now’s not the time. He’s already defensive and has shown too much mercy by saving me. I doubt I’ll get anymore from him tonight.
Still, he surprises me when he strokes his thumb over the center of my lips, husks out, “Stop putting yourself in danger, my silly little masochist,” then releases me.
We reach my building a few minutes later and I linger at the door, wondering if I should say anything more. I’ve already thanked him, and he shot that down. He stands and waits for me to do something, his brow furrowed with irritation.