Chapter 34 Rescue Mission Aborted
Serena
I was rooted to the spot. The ground refused to open and swallow me whole, even though every cell in my body begged it to.
All the female guests were filming me from every angle like I was some viral tragedy unfolding in real time.
The red stain on the back of my white dress had spread fast, a vivid scarlet accusation blooming across the satin like spilled wine that refused to be ignored.
I could feel it, warm and sticky, seeping down my thighs. Then a deep, familiar voice behind me.
“I got you. Don’t move.”
Saint.
Of all people, he was the one who stepped in first.
He shrugged off his black suit jacket in one smooth motion and draped it over my shoulders.
The fabric was still warm from his body, and long enough to cover the stain completely.
He pulled it tight around me like armor, one arm banding my waist to keep it in place while the other shielded my back from the cameras.
Before I could process it, he was already leading me away.
The crowd parted like water. I pressed my face into his solid chest as he led us out, his heartbeat thumping against my cheek.
He placed one hand on my lower spine, and the other raised to block any phone that dared get too close.
I wanted to remind them that their father would protest if he caught wind of this. I wanted to remind Saint about his father's threat hanging over Sin's head, but then he’d know I'd been eavesdropping on them.
“Where are we going?” I mumbled over the loud whispers.
I’d promised Lara I’d stay away from them. I’d made the deal. I’d broken it the second Saint appeared behind me.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to save the family's secret from exploding.
I tried to pull back, but his arm locked tighter around my waist.
“We’re almost there, babe. Hold on. I'll have Sin meet us at the restroom. No one will suspect a thing.”
“No, you don’t understand. It's risky. See, I’m fine, I can take—”
A sharp, twisting cramp ripped through my abdomen and stole the rest of my words.
I curled against Saint’s chest and groaned, the sound escaping before I could stop it.
My cramps were never gentle. They could turn vicious, make me puke, make me twist into impossible positions, make me destroy anything within reach.
This one felt like a knife slowly turning. The second cramp hit harder.
I arched my back involuntarily, a choked sound slipping out.
“What’s happening to her?” someone asked from the crowd.
I didn’t hear the answer, if there was one, because we finally turned into the private restroom corridor.
Saint carried me the last few steps and gently set me on the marble counter beside the sinks.
“Can you stand?” he asked, his voice tight with worry.
“No,” I groaned, doubling over as another wave hit.
“I’ve got you.”
He braced me with one arm around my shoulders while his other hand pressed lightly against my abdomen, trying to soothe the spasm.
He pulled away for only a few minutes to shoot a text across to Sin.
Then he went back to pressing steadily on my lower abdomen to help loosen the knot there.
Sin barged in a few minutes later, already yanking off his bowtie, flinging it somewhere behind him.
I wondered where he'd been to have dressed up like this. He wouldn't show up at the party, so I doubted he'd dressed up for it.
“She’s in pain,” Sin noted. “What do we do? We don’t have hot water here.”
“Let’s get rid of the dress first,” Saint replied. “We should’ve done that outside.”
They worked together, unzipping and peeling the ruined white satin away until I sat there in nothing but Sin’s jacket draped over my shoulders.
Sin knelt in front of me so we were at eye-level now.
“Do you use tampons or pads?” Saint asked, crouching beside his brother.
“Pads,” I managed through clenched teeth. “Tampons make me walk like I’ve got something stuck up my—”
Another cramp stole my breath. “Ahhhhh.”
Sin’s hand slid up my thigh, grounding me while Saint pressed harder on my abdomen.
“I’ll order them,” Sin said, already pulling his phone from his pocket.
His fingers flew over the screen furiously.
Why did it hurt so much like this? The cramps were vicious, knife-twisting, breath-stealing, anything you could use to describe pain in your abdomen. The kind that made you want to curl into a ball and disappear.
I’d always had bad periods, all right, but this one felt personal.
“Take me to the shower, please,” I begged, my teeth chattering. “I need the hot spray.”
They didn’t hesitate.
Saint lifted me off the counter gently while Sin opened the shower door.
They stepped inside together, fully clothed, not even pausing to strip.
Water cascaded down on us in a hot, scalding spray, but they didn't even mind.
They positioned me between them, my back to Saint’s chest, Sin in front, both of them holding me upright so my knees wouldn’t buckle.
The heat hit my skin and I groaned, relief and pain twisting together.
“There’s blood…” I whispered, mortified when I looked down and saw the dark red swirling down the drain between my feet.
Sin cupped my jaw, stroking my cheekbone.
“I don’t care about it.”
“Me neither,” Saint added, his lips brushing the nape of my neck.
A minute later Sin stepped out, water streaming off his soaked clothes, muttering that he’d ordered pads and they should be here any second.
He’d already texted Mrs. Hale to intercept the delivery driver.
When the knock came, I sighed and leaned back against Saint.
He loosened the knot in my hair, massaging my scalp as the pins fell away and wet strands clung to my shoulders.
The cramps came in waves but Saint’s hands distracted me.
One palm pressed low on my abdomen while the other slid up my side, tracing slow circles over my ribs, grounding me.
Sin returned, holding a small pharmacy bag like it was made of glass.
He stepped back under the spray, clothes and all and crouched in front of me.
“Can we touch you?” he asked, his eyes scanning my body like he was afraid one wrong move would shatter me.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You’re safe with us,” he said. “With me. I promise.”
I nodded, shivering when his fingers brushed the undersides of my breasts.
Saint’s hand slipped between my thighs, his fingers parting me gently.
I gasped, arching against him as he slid one finger inside.
“I’m not clean,” I whimpered, my cheeks burning. “The blood—”
“Is fine,” Saint murmured against my neck.
He curled his finger inside me, stroking faster while his thumb circled my clit with feather-light pressure.
Sin’s hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples before rolling them between his fingers softly. He leaned in and kissed the hollow of my throat, then lower, his lips closing over one nipple, sucking softly.
This was how it was supposed to be between us three. Just like this.
But then Saint's phone on the counter started ringing loudly.
Saint ignored it, but I couldn't.
“I actually feel better now. You can go pick it. What if it's urgent?” I said to him, turning my neck slightly.
Sin remained while Saint went to fetch his phone.
The package came with a brand new set of cotton underwear. Sin was helping me fix the pad when Saint said, “Father knows you're not in the house. And he's suspecting we're both with Serena. He's asking security to search.”
Sin cursed softly. “I'm sorry for losing myself last time…..” He was apologising? I knew he owed me an apology, but doing it right now was really touching.
He peeled a strand of wet hair from my forehead and pressed his own against mine. “I'll find a way to make it right. We'll come back for you. Just wait here.”
As I watched them go, I knew they wouldn't, and it wasn't their fault.