Page 30 of Savage Saint (Empire of Secrets #2)

He pulls something from his jacket. A small device that gleams ominously under the dim lights.

A red light pulses at its centre, casting a sinister glow over the chaos.

In an instant, Kasia’s body recoils as if struck by an electric shock.

Her gun wavers in her grip. The warrior queen I’ve seen despatch enemies with lethal grace now looks like prey.

My instincts kick in before I can think. The weapon feels heavy and familiar in my hand as I line up my shot.

“Get down!” I shout, not even waiting for her to comply.

I pull the trigger, feeling the satisfying kickback as the bullet finds its mark, right between the attacker's eyes. He drops like a rag-doll, and the device slips from his grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The red light continues to blink like a heartbeat against the backdrop of chaos.

Kasia stares at it, frozen in place. Her face drains of colour, fear replacing the fierce determination that had defined her moments before. She kicks it away with enough force to crack the casing, but it doesn’t stop there. Her hands tremble as if she’s grappling with a ghost.

I take a step closer, my heart racing as recognition flashes across her features. This is more than just another threat.

“What is it?” I demand, urgency thrumming through me.

But she only steps back further, panic creeping into her eyes. It unsettles me more than anything else tonight has thrown our way.

“Nothing,” she whispers hoarsely, but her voice betrays her. There’s something deeper lurking behind that denial.

Before anyone else can notice it lying on the floor amidst our bloody battleground, I reach down and pocket it.

My fingers brush against its cool surface as I notice the symbol etched into its side: a wolf's head stark against the matte black finish.

Whatever this device signifies, it's now between me and her.

Kasia watches me intently, her expression shifting from fear to uncertainty and back again. A thread of understanding forms between us, forged in violence and unspoken truths that neither of us fully comprehends yet.

The casino floor lies in ruins. Blood stains the marble, and broken glass crunches under my boots as I scan the room.

Bullet holes pepper the walls, and the expensive furniture lies in splintered heaps.

The smell of gunpowder and blood fills my nostrils while I count the bodies littering the ground like discarded toys.

Mel emerges from behind the bar, her face pale, mascara streaked down her cheeks.

She's clutching her arm where a bullet grazed her, but otherwise, she's intact.

Luca appears from the back entrance, his knuckles bloody, his usually perfect hair dishevelled.

He must have been fighting off attackers at the rear.

"You okay?" he asks Mel, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it.

She nods, still trembling. "I'll take her home," Luca says to no one in particular, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the exit.

Kasia stands frozen, a few feet away, her eyes burning a hole in the pocket I stuffed the device into. Her hands are shaking violently. But it's not fear that makes her tremble. It's something deeper. Rage. Pure, undiluted fury radiates from her in waves.

I cross to her in three strides, no longer caring who sees or what they think. I pull her against my chest, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other wrapping around her waist. She's rigid at first, then melts into me, her fingers clutching my shirt.

"Jerzy. Znalaz? mnie," she mutters against my chest, words I don't understand but feel their weight all the same.

"What?"

She pulls back just enough to look up at me, her eyes meeting mine. "He found me." Her voice breaks on the last word, and for the first time since she woke up in that hospital bed, I see genuine fear in her eyes.

The sight hits me harder than any bullet could. My Butterfly, who faced down armed men without flinching, who killed with the precision of a trained assassin, now looks like a cornered animal. Whoever this Jerzy is, he's managed to do what Nico's men couldn't. Terrify her.

Dante approaches, his suit somehow still immaculate despite the chaos. Blood spatters his white shirt cuffs, the only evidence he was ever involved in the fight. He starts talking strategy, something about Nico's territories and retaliation plans.

"We need to hit them back immediately. Tonight. Arrow's already tracking—"

"Go home to your fiancée," I cut him off sharply. "Make sure she's okay."

Dante stops mid-sentence, surprised. But he doesn't protest. His priorities have shifted since Alessa came into his life. A month ago, he would have stayed to plan our counterattack, regardless of who was waiting for him. Now, he simply nods and turns away.

I recognise something has changed in me too, as my hold on Kasia tightens, my lips touching the top of her head. My focus has narrowed to the woman in my arms rather than the bodies at my feet. But I dismiss the thought. This isn't the time for self-reflection.

I take Kasia's hand in mine, my grip both possessive and protective. She doesn't pull away. Instead, she laces her fingers through mine, her palm warm against my skin.

"They want war?" My voice drops to a growl as I look down at her. "I'll give them a fucking war. They're not getting you, Butterfly. Not on my fucking watch."

The savage in me roars for blood, for vengeance, not just for the attack on our casino, but for putting Kasia in danger. For putting that look in her eyes. I don't care if it's Nicolosi, the Jerzy she spoke of or both of them together.

They. Will. Pay.

Kasia squeezes my hand and tucks herself closer into my body, her trust in me both terrifying and exhilarating.

Without hesitation, I scoop her up into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, her face pressing against my shoulder as I carry her towards the exit, leaving the destruction behind us.