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“God, you’re a monster.” He cocks a brow. “That’s never been a question, has it? You’ve known that from the start.
“You don’t think it’s my business?” he demands, and I shiver. “You don’t think every aspect of your life is my damn business? Are you forgetting who you belong to?”
“Let’s just say, when Saint Angelle texts, I don’t hesitate to act. I’ll be in touch, Mallory. Remember, don’t talk to anyone without me.”
“I’m not going to pretend to understand what exists between you and Saint, but it’s obvious that, whatever it is, it’s strong. Neither of you seem like you can fight it.”
Saint steps closer and cups my face, wiping at my tears with the pad of his thumb. It’s a shockingly tender gesture that shakes me to my core. “I hate it when you cry.” His voice is so soft, I barely hear him.
“I didn’t say I don’t give a fuck about you. I don’t give a fuck about any of this bullshit surrounding you. None of that matters. You’re just Mallory to me. I care what happens to you, and that’s why I need you to leave this place.”
