Page 21 of Revenge Saints (BloodHawks Duet #2)

“W hat the fuck?!” I roar, fists clenched so tight my nails dig into my palms. I can barely breathe. “You let Dante escape?!”

I shove Miles, but he just smirks, like this is a fucking joke.

“Roman’s going to lose his shit!”

I spin around and storm inside. How the fuck did this happen?

All this because of Sean? A couple of stitches? A fucking pill? I can’t believe they let Dante go. Of all people. Dante and Knox together again? No chance in hell they’re not coming back for the base.

“What the fuck happened?” Roman yells as he approaches.

I stride out, pointing straight at the bastard who started this.

“Miles let him escape!”

Roman locks onto him like a lion spotting weak prey. His hand curls into a fist, his body tenses, and I smile.

You kicked me down, motherfucker. Let’s see how you like the taste.

Miles lifts his hands and takes a slow step back. “He had Sean. Gun to his head.”

Roman stops.

He fucking stops .

What?

“And?” I yell. “Who gives a shit? I can do stitches! We all can!”

Sean walks out just then, calm as ever, like he didn’t just fuck everything up.

Roman doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t look at me. He just stares at Miles.

“How did this happen?” He is calm, but his stance is a threat all by itself. His arms are tight, and that vein in his neck looks ready to burst.

Sean glances at me. My heart stutters.

Is he going to tell Roman I gave Dante the radio? That I lured Knox here on purpose?

But he doesn’t.

He folds his arms and waits .

Of course he does. Roman’s right-hand man. So smug. So damn quiet. And I hate him.

That condescending tone, the way he speaks to me like I’m disposable. Like I’m just some whore who got lucky.

I’m not .

I ran the most successful call girl business in the goddamn country. Thousands in profit, a waiting list of elite clients. I survived the Crimson Plague when most people didn’t even survive the first wave. I stayed alive when the world turned women into prey.

Roman’s empire? That was me .

My intel.

My body kept Ethan in check while Roman moved in.

I planted that map. I got us inside.

They all forget that. But I don’t.

“I don’t know,” Miles mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dante came out with a gun to Sean’s head. No idea where he got it.”

Roman turns to Sean, gaze sharpening. “Where’d he get the gun?”

Sean shrugs. “I was checking his bandage. He just… pointed it at me.”

Roman watches him too long. Something tight is happening behind those eyes, but Sean doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch.

What the hell is going on between them?

Why does Roman need him so badly?

“Who was there before you?” Roman asks.

Sean shakes his head. “No idea. ”

“Bryn was.”

My blood freezes.

“What?” Roman’s tone shifts. He steps forward, eyes narrowing until he spots the one that spoke up.

One of the kids.

Roman points at him. “Come here.”

This fucking kid will ruin everything.

“What did you say?” Roman’s fury is visible in the way his veins pop on his forehead.

The kid flinches; he can’t be older than twenty.

“I saw Bryn in the army guy’s room. Before Doctor Sean went in,” he says, eyes darting toward me.

Roman turns to me. “Why were you there?”

He takes a step closer, but I don’t move. I won’t show him fear or regret.

“I went to tell him that if Aspen didn’t show, we had no reason to keep him alive,” I say calmly, chin raised, arms crossing tight over my chest. “I was trying to get something out of him. A location. A weakness.”

Roman stares me down, but I don’t blink.

He’s trying to read me, catch some flicker of guilt, but I’ve lied to people far more dangerous than him. I lied to my family. To the BloodHawks. To Aspen.

Roman will only see what I want him to see.

“Did anyone here give him a gun?” Roman asks, sweeping the group.

Silence .

I don’t know who did it. Only Sean and I were in that room.

Could it have been him?

Why would he do that?

“I’ll find out who it was,” Roman growls, storming inside.

“Sean!” he calls, and the doctor follows.

Everyone disperses. Quiet whispers pass between them, nervous glances trailing Roman’s path.

This is actually good; they are scared, and fear can work in my favor. If he becomes unstable, I might convince them to take him out. And that would serve me perfectly.

I slip inside; steps light against the steel stairs. Roman took Knox’s room on purpose , I’m sure. When he asked which rooms belonged to the guys, he went straight for Knox’s after I told him.

It’s not even the best room. The walls are dark and cold. A king-sized bed with a black wood frame. A desk, a closet, and a single armchair in the corner. On the wall: medals, pictures, and fragments of a time before Roman tore it all apart.

Everything is in place. Not a pen out of line.

That’s who Knox is. Controlled. Cold. Untouchable. And I still don’t understand what Aspen saw in him.

She gave him pussy, and he took it. That’s all. She gave it to all of them. I shake my head.

She would’ve made an excellent call girl. That soft, sweet look she has? That wide-eyed innocence? It would have driven men insane. I exhale slowly.

I know not everything’s about sex anymore. Not really.

But if it was power before the plague, it’s become something more now.

With so few women left, we’re not just wanted, we’re needed .

We’re gold. Diamonds. The promise of tomorrow in a dying world.

Roman understood that. The moment he saw me. The second I told him there was another woman, Knox’s woman. Dante’s too.

I didn’t even need to mention Max or Ryker. He understood.

Roman didn’t want Aspen just because she was beautiful. He wanted her because she meant something to the men who defied him. And that kind of possession? That’s where his obsession lives.

I’ve seen people hate each other, sure. But this? This isn’t regular hate.

Knox loathes Roman because of the betrayal. That makes sense. But Roman?

Knox never turned him in. Never even spoke against him when it would’ve saved his ass, and still, Roman wants everything Knox ever had.

Not just the base.

Everything .

I creep toward the half-closed door at the end of the hall. Roman’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Sean’s across from him, in a chair.

They’re not talking, so I lean closer, tilting my head just enough to see inside.

Roman’s arm is outstretched, a needle in his vein. A clear tube connects to Sean’s arm, his blood running into Roman’s .

My heart stutters.

Is that… blood ?

Roman’s taking Sean’s blood?

I pull back slowly, pressing my back to the wall, a grin tugging at my lips.

Well. This day just got interesting .

Roman needs Sean. To stay strong. To stay alive .

That’s why Miles protected him. Because he knows. He’s in on it.

But I wonder…

Does anyone else know that their fearless leader is probably dying?

Upstairs, I stop when I spot Miles leaning against the pool table, two recruits flanking him.

That one’s going to be a problem.

He’ll never turn on Roman. He’s loyal. Blindly so, and I don’t have enough leverage to make Roman take him out like I did with Ethan.

I spent the night tossing in bed, sheets twisted around my legs, sweat clinging to my skin.

Roman didn’t come to me, and that worries me more than I want to admit. He always does, ever since we took the base.

We fuck until dawn; he slips back to his room and sleeps like a king.

But last night? Nothing.

Which tells me one thing: he’s starting to doubt me .

That damn kid’s words are still circling his head like vultures. The idea that I could’ve given Dante a gun… that I helped him escape?

Fuck me.

Now I’ve got to prove myself again . Show him I’m still his most loyal piece. His number one.

I climb out of bed and head for the showers.

The base holds just over twenty men now. Split into groups of four, rotating shifts, some on guard through the night, others by day. At least five are always patrolling. Could’ve been more, but the BloodHawks killed some of them.

Roman hasn’t had time to recruit replacements.

That’s the downside of hiding out in the middle of nowhere—no fresh meat to mold.

He could venture into town, but last time he left just to place traps, Dante escaped, so now he’s paranoid, thinks if he so much as steps out, Knox will swoop in and take back the base.

I push open the bathroom door.

“Going for a shower?” Miles steps out of the bathroom, smirking.

I slow my pace.

“Washing off the lies?” He adds, sounding too casual to be anything but bait .

I stop. Cross my arms. Raise an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

He steps closer. Leaner than Roman, but solid. Strong. His presence buzzes with confidence that rubs me the wrong way.

“I talked to the kid,” he says, eyes narrowing. “He said you were in the army guy’s room a long time.”

He leans, and his breath brushes my cheek. “And he saw a radio in your hand.”

My heart slams once, hard. I freeze.

A slow burn starts in my chest. My mouth goes dry, and it hurts to swallow.

Fuck. The kid saw it?

I laugh in a dismissive way. “And you believe a kid who would still get carded for juice boxes?”

“I do,” he says flatly.

Then he turns and walks off like he didn’t just punch a hole through my plans.

He heads toward Max’s room. I watch him go, tilting my head slightly.

Then I breathe out.

Yeah. He’s gotta go.

I walk to Roman’s room and knock.

“Yes?” he calls out.

I push the door open. “Are you okay?”

He glances up, frowning. There’s tension in his jaw. He’s been spiraling since Dante escaped, paranoid, twitchy, calculating everything ten times over .

“You didn’t come to my room last night,” I say softly, stepping in and closing the door behind me.

His eyes flick to mine, then lower.

I’m wearing his favorite sundress. The yellow one with the thin straps. My hair’s up in a ponytail. The version of me he likes best.

His gaze darkens. His hands come to my thighs, rough and fast. He pushes the hem of the dress up, higher and higher, until my panties show. He groans, low and guttural.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,”

He stops. That pause? Feels like a knife. I can almost hear the “but” forming in his throat.

I move fast. Straddle him. Rub against the hard ridge straining beneath his jeans.

“I love when you compliment me,” I whisper, grinding slow. His hands clamp down on my hips, gripping bruisingly, and I welcome the sting. I lean into his neck, kiss his skin, bite just enough to leave a mark.

“Bryn,” he growls.

There’s menace in his tone but also hunger. A flicker of battle between wanting me and not trusting me.

I reach between us, unzipping his jeans, unbuttoning them, and sliding my hand inside.

He’s already hard, and when I pull him free, he grunts, hips twitching. His fingers dig deeper into my flesh. I shift just enough to position him where I want. With one hand, I tug my panties to the side and sink down slowly .

Not wet enough, and the stretch stings and burns, but I take it; I breathe through it, moving in shallow rolls until my body starts to open, to crave.

He’s watching me. Silent. Tense. Waiting for something to snap.

Then he thrusts up, hard, burying himself inside me all at once.

I whimper, walls clenched tight around him. It hurts.

His mouth drops to my chest, biting my nipples through the thin fabric. The sharpness drags a moan from my throat.

He’s unraveling.

“You,” thrust “Fucking,” thrust “Slut.”

Each word lands like a slap, like a sentence. My body takes it, rides it, needs it.

He fucks like he wants to break me, and maybe he does.

God, he feels so fucking good. Thick. Deep. Just the right amount of violence.

My heart races, my skin slick with sweat, my nipples hard enough to ache. He yanks one strap down, sucks my nipple into his mouth, biting hard. My breath hitches.

“Roman,” I gasp. “More. Please. Hurt me.”

He growls and flips me, slamming me into the mattress. The air punches out of my lungs.

He pounds into me hard, fast. One hand grips my hip, the other slaps my pussy between thrusts, over and over until the skin goes red and sore.

“You better not be fucking with me, Bryn.” His hand wraps around my throat tight. “I’ll fucking kill you. ”

My air cuts off completely, and my lungs scream.

My vision blurs as my hands scrabble against the sheets. My body trembles, going limp beneath him, and still he keeps thrusting.

“Roman,” I choke, the word barely a whisper.

Tears slip down my cheeks. My arms fall useless at my sides. Darkness creeps at the edge of my sight.

Just before I black out, he grunts and releases me.

I gasp, wheezing, and feel his release spilling inside me.

He pulls out immediately.

“You don’t deserve to come,” he spits, zipping up. “Not until I know what the fuck happened yesterday.”

Then he’s gone. The door slams behind him.

I lie there, trembling. My throat raw. My chest heaving.

That fucker .

Miles goes today .

And Roman?

Roman will follow.