Saint Devereaux, the guy who’s closed off, emotionless, who makes it a sport to show the world just how much of an asshole he can be, who runs from anything that gets too close. The guy who has made me question everything about him since the moment I met him. I’ve wondered time and time again if a heart truly lived beneath his ribs at all. Now I know it’s there, quietly beating, hidden away behind a fortress of impenetrable walls built not to shut the world out but to guard the most vulnerable part of him.
