Page 23 of Savage Saint (Empire of Secrets #2)

Her eyes shift toward me, briefly meeting mine before she realises I've been watching her. She bites down on her lip, pausing for just a second before dropping her gaze back down to her hands, as if she's not ready to face me again or keep watching Dante and Alessa.

It makes me wonder what kind of life she had before waking up in that hospital bed. If she's ever had someone touch her softly without expecting something in return. If she's ever had anyone to lean on. And if she'd even know affection if it were offered freely.

The cake, despite its appearance, is indeed delicious, a reminder that appearances can be deceiving.

For a brief moment, the tension in the room lifts, and we're just another family enjoying dessert. But we're far from normal. Everyone at this table knows it, even though I allow myself to imagine Kasia as part of this scene, not as an outsider but as someone who belongs. Maybe even beside me.

Dante raises a toast to "family," and almost without thinking, my hand settles on the small of Kasia's back. It’s instinctive, possessive even, claiming her presence at my side, declaring to the room something I haven’t even admitted to myself yet. Only when I catch Alessa’s raised eyebrow, a silent, knowing challenge, do I reluctantly pull away, the sudden absence leaving me colder than before.

After dinner, I follow Dante to his study, while my mind screams at me for leaving Kasia with Alessa and Luca. What if something happens to her while I'm gone? What if she decides to leave?

I'd find her.

I'd fucking hunt her down and bring her back.

My lips stretch into a thin, satisfied smile. My Butterfly can fly all she wants. I'll be there to catch her in my net every time.

The door opens with a creak as we walk in. Instantly, I position myself where I can see the exit. Years of watching my back have ingrained this instinct deep into my bones.

Dante moves to the bar cart without a word, pouring two fingers of scotch into crystal tumblers. He hands me one, his expression loaded with judgment.

"What the fuck is going on, Savage?" He must be really pissed off. He rarely uses my nickname.

I shrug my shoulders, pretending I have no clue what he's talking about, while my thoughts circle around the woman in the next room.

Dante sighs. "She's too dangerous to keep in your house alone," he says without preamble.

My jaw tightens at his presumption, though I'd been expecting this conversation since we walked in for dinner. "I've got it under control," I respond coldly, letting my family mask slide firmly into place.

Images flash through my mind. Kasia's nightmares that leave her drenched in sweat, the way she lifted my gun without me noticing, her combat reflexes that speak of years of training. All the reasons I keep her close.

"She should stay here with me. I have men patrolling the grounds," Dante presses.

Something dark and possessive coils in my chest. "She's safer with me than with twenty of your men."

"This isn't just about her safety," Dante's voice drops lower. " Everyone will be safer if she's here."

"I won't have her under the same roof as Massimo." The words come out sharp, final.

"Father is senile. He doesn't even remember his name most days anymore."

"All the more reason to keep her away from him." My tone hardens to steel. "I don't want him anywhere near her."

"Angelo—" Dante starts, using that authoritative tone that's never worked on me.

"She stays with me. End of discussion." I drain my scotch, setting the glass down with controlled force.

"Funny." Dante's displeasure radiates off him in waves. "I'm pretty sure Arrow said you were adamant about getting rid of her just a few days ago."

"Things change."

"I see."

A shadow moves in my peripheral vision. A silhouette I know well. One I thought of way too many times this past couple of weeks, retreating from the partially open door. Kasia . How much did she hear?

I give Dante a hard look, ending our conversation.

Exiting Dante's study, I scan the dimly lit hallway. Empty. My footsteps are silent on the polished hardwood as I move through the house, every sense heightened and alert. Where the fuck has she gone? I need to find her before she stumbles on one of Dante's many secrets, or worse still, Massimo.

A quick glance at my watch confirms we've stayed too long. The familiar weight of my gun against my ribs does little to ease the tension.

Alessa sits alone in the living room, scrolling through her phone. She looks up as I enter, and I raise an eyebrow in silent question.

"Bathroom," she says with a shrug, but there's something in her expression, a slight quirk to her lips. Not good.

I move through the hallways with practised stealth, listening for any sound out of place. Then I hear it, the soft click of a door closing.

Kasia emerges from the bathroom, and for a moment, she freezes when she sees me. Her composure is perfect, practised even, but the slight flush on her cheeks betrays her.

Our eyes lock, and in that moment, I know. She heard everything. The knowledge sits heavy between us, unspoken but undeniable. Her chin lifts slightly, a challenge, a question, an acknowledgement all at once.

I let my expression harden just enough to serve as a warning. Whatever she thinks she heard, whatever conclusions she's drawn, now isn't the time or place to discuss it.

"Let's go." I take her hand and drag her through the house. She doesn't stop me until we're by the front door.

"You're leaving?" Alessa's voice makes me stop right as we reach the front door.

"It's late. We need to get back," I grit through my teeth, annoyed at the pause in our escape.

Butterfly's fingers land on top of my hand.

The one that's gripping her wrist. Hard.

Too hard. I force my grip to relax as she strokes my hand in a placating motion.

My eyes are trained on her skin against mine.

Pale and creamy compared to my hardened and tanned.

A stark contrast. I let her go, pulling my hand away.

Her eyes examine me for a brief moment before she steps away.

"Come back soon, yeah?" Alessa gives her a hug, and this time Kasia smiles and hugs her back instantly. "Or I can come visit you." Definitely don't need that.

Alessa slips a small rectangular object into Kasia's pocket, a phone most likely.

I catch the subtle movement, the careful way she tries to hide it from view.

I could intervene, step in and stop this small act of defiance, but I choose not to.

Sometimes, calculated risks are necessary, even if they make my jaw clench.

My eyes narrow as Alessa leans in close, whispering something that makes Kasia's gaze dart to my face, searching, questioning.

I watch the exchange between them, a flicker of irritation sparking in my chest. Alessa's interference, while well-meaning, grates on my nerves.

Kasia should only need me. I should be enough.

The thought crashes through me with startling intensity, and I have to force myself to remain still, to not snatch the phone away and crush it beneath my heel.

But something in Kasia's expression, a softness I rarely see, makes me pause. She needs this. A friend. Someone who isn't tangled up in the darkness that surrounds me. The rational part of my mind acknowledges this, even as possessiveness claws at my insides.

I let it happen. Let Alessa slip her that lifeline, that connection to something approaching normal. Plus, I can track her better now that she has a device. The possibilities are endless. I make a mental note to call Arrow. They'll be able to hack that phone in no time.

And after that?

My Butterfly won't be able to escape my net.