Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I reach out to stroke his back as he turns to me, and when he realizes I want to touch him, he pulls me into an easy hug. It’s dark, and for a moment I think he’s smiling at me, but he’s just pulled the mask down, and the teeth I’m seeing belong to the skeletal wolf printed at the front of the balaclava.
“Ready for Brown?” Saint asks, and it’s not the first time he checks in with me, which is quite sweet.
I nod. “I’m a bit worried. Seeing him will be stressful, but I’m also… looking forward to it? Does that make sense?”
Saint kisses me on the forehead through the fabric. “That’s how it should be. The moment you get overly confident and stop worrying, that’s when you lose your edge. Trust me, I’ve seen it,” he says. There’s a tinge of sadness in his tone, and I know he’s referring to his uncle’s passing, but while I can’t do anything to give him his family back, I can be there for him now, so I wrap my arms around him and rub my face against his chest.
I’m so peaceful that the sudden tremor at his hip startles me, but then he reaches into his pocket and plucks out the phone. The cool glow of the screen reveals his eyes, and I swallow in sudden excitement. He doesn’t need to tell me that’s our signal to start the hunt. I already know.
“The stage is set,” he says and strokes my nape as we walk along the shelves and rails.
There’s something magical about elaborate Christmas decorations, especially in winter, when the day comes to an end so early. The bright, colorful lights make long nights more bearable, but now that all the Santa figures, piles of presents, and trees are dark, the department store looks creepy rather than cheerful. Being here without Saint, watched by so many dead eyes, would have been a nightmare, but he’s here, and he’d protect me even if the LED Rudolph turns out rabid and charges at me.
As we pass clothes, discounted gift baskets and whole shelves filled with fragrant candles, it strikes me how much my life has changed. I was quite the law-abiding citizen before I met Saint, and now here I am, breaking into a store in the middle of the night, sneaking around with the intention to kill. I don’t know what that says about me, but it feels natural. As if I shed my sheep skin to reveal the wolf that was always there. The wolf born in blood, the night I lost everything.
“Ah! Almost forgot, since I’ve been doing this alone for so long,” Saint says, and reaches to one of the shelves.
He presents me with a… ski mask. It’s red, with a Santa hat, openings for eyes and mouth, and a white woolen beard.
I take it, squinting at him. “Seriously? You get to look so cool, and I get this?”
His eyes narrow, and in the soft glow of the flashlight, I can see the little wrinkles that form around his eyes when he smiles. “You want us to match, since it’s the season?” he asks and picks up another one.
I slap it out of his hand, laughing. “No! Don’t you dare. Fine. I’ll wear the stupid one. But I warn you, you’ll be getting a blowjob from Santa on Christmas Day.”
Saint chuckles, and the sound of his voice makes me feel things I never felt before. I want to pull up the sexy, dangerous-looking wolf balaclava and push my tongue into his mouth, but this is not the time. We still need to get rid of Brown’s body once this is over, and we can always make out while celebrating our success later.
Shaking my head, I secure the Santa balaclava on my head, ignoring the price tag digging into the back of my head, and grab his hand as we make our way through the store, toward the exit. Saint’s IT person was also to disable the alarms, but as we get to the glass doors and he scoots down with two small tools, about to open the lock, I strain my eyes, searching for movement.
“If he’s not alone, we back out,” Saint reminds me. “No random casualties unless your life is at risk.”
I nod, even though he’s repeating rules we’ve already agreed on. It’s always best to know we’re on the same page, and I like that he doesn’t want to involve innocent bystanders. It speaks to his character. Makes me trust him more.
“But he should be alone, right?” I ask to confirm, as Saint deals with the lock with expertise I should have expected. Apparently, picking locks, starting cars without keys, and escaping out of binds and cuffs were skills his uncle drilled into him early on. Saint has already promised to teach me. Since he’s the better fighter, and probably always will be, I’m eager to not only become just as good as him in everything else but hopefully even outmatch him one day.