Chapter 170

SAINT.

Kyrie's handwriting was all over this.

The elders hadn't woken up this morning and decided on their own to summon me. Someone had gone to them. Someone had decided that the fastest way to win a fight they were losing was to weaponize pack law, and there was only one man in this territory desperate enough and tactical enough to make that move before I had finished walking out of Africa.

I made a detour to my father's house. I hadn't gone to see Eve since I dropped her off last night.

I had spent the night going over every wrong turn. Every decision I had made that had contributed to where Eve was now — the blackmail, the control, the ways I had used her fear as a tool, because using people's fear had always been easier than asking for what I actually wanted. I was not a man who was accustomed to examining himself and finding the examination useful. But last night it had happened anyway, without my permission, and what I had found was not something I could put back where it came from.

I had so much to say to her. Even though I didn't feel worthy.

I had so much to say, and I hoped against all odds that I would be able to speak as much.

I pushed the front door open, and the house felt empty.

I was told my father had to attend an important, impromptu function at the Crescent Moon pack yesterday, and from the quiet in the house, it was clear he hadn't returned yet.

Jovie seemed not to be home either.

I almost panicked, but did my best to stay calm as I tried to trace the scent of my mate while ascending the stairs.

I caught it faintly, almost as if it wasn't there, or as if she had been here but had to leave.

I hastened my strides until I was standing in front of her door and pushed it open without hesitation, hating every possibility my mind was constructing with the speed and efficiency.

I stopped abruptly when I stepped inside, and my gaze traveled around.

She was lying on her bed.

She was fucking there.

Fuck.

I stood in the doorway for exactly one second and let the reality of her presence replace every version of her absence my mind had been building on the way up those stairs.

Then the anger arrived... Why the fuck would anyone leave her at home all alone, despite all my warnings? My mate was lying unguarded while I was away, dealing with elders who wanted to take her from me.

She felt my presence because she jumped out of her sleep and turned in my direction immediately.

The deep breath she heaved when she saw me told me all I needed to know - she had thought for a second that it was Kyrie.

"Saint," She called weakly, attempting to sit up.

I crossed to her in three strides and got my hands under her arms before she could make it worse.

"Easy," I said.

I got her upright, and she stayed there, which told me less about her recovery than about her stubbornness, because the color in her face and the way she was holding herself — carefully, like someone managing a pain they didn't want witnessed — told a different story entirely.

I sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

Neither of us spoke.

The silence was the kind that had too much in it to break easily. It was the silence of two people sitting inside everything that had happened between them, and not yet knowing which piece of it to pick up first.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She let out a breath. "Weak," she said. "Everything still hurts. The mark—" her hand went to her neck, and I watched her face tighten with the contact, "it keeps burning. It was quieter this morning, but it's coming back. Getting worse by the hour, not better."

I took a look at it, and it wasn't healing.

"It shouldn't be getting worse," I said.

"Yeah. I guess," she said quietly. "My whole body feels like it's being pulled in directions it wasn't built to go. Iris keeps going silent for long stretches, and that frightens me, because when she goes quiet, it means she's using everything she has just to keep the bond from tearing further, and she has nothing left for anything else." She stopped and swallowed. "I don't know how long I can keep doing this, Saint."

I said nothing. I didn't even have the right words to say.

She turned to look at me, and her eyes were already filling up with tears. She pressed her lips together, "Thank you," she said, and her voice broke on the second word. "For coming. For finding me. For — " she stopped again, her breath hitching, " — I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come when you did. I was so scared, Saint. I was so terrified, and I kept thinking no one was coming to save me."

"Eve."

"No, I need to say this." The tears were falling now, and she wasn't trying to stop them anymore. "You saved my life. After everything. After all the ways things went between us, you still came for me, and I need you to know that I—"

I slid off the bed and went to my knees in front of her. Both of her hands were in mine before she finished her sentence. She stopped speaking and looked down at me with an expression I had never seen directed at me before. For the first time ever, she wasn't looking at me with fear, or disgust, or wariness.

She looked like she didn't know what to do with what she was seeing.

Saint Rollins on his knees.

I didn't know what to do with it either. I had never been here before.

At this point, she was genuinely looking at me like I was worth more than the stories told about me.