Reign (The Sainthood - Boys of Lowell High #3)(46)

His good humor evaporates, and he darts forward, gripping my chin. “You know nothing about me. Nothing!” he roars, and it’s clear I’ve hit a nerve.

Interesting.

Saint swats Sinner’s arm away, pulling me into his side. “Was there a reason for your visit because we have someplace to be.” He feigns disinterest, but he’s a melting pot of rage waiting to combust.

“I’m here to remind you who you are.” He pushes Saint’s shoulders as Galen returns, injecting himself in between them.

“Leave him the fuck alone.” Galen’s fists clench into balls at his sides, and I know he’s itching to flatten the asshole, because it’s how I feel every time I’m in his company.

“You too,” Sinner adds, poking Galen in the chest before trailing his gaze around all of us. “All of you. You are part of The Sainthood. Sworn to obey my command.”

I snort, and that only enrages him further.

“You clearly have little regard for your lives or those of your loved ones.” He loses his anger, flashing us a devilish grin that chills me to the bone. “It’s time you remembered your duties.” He steps up to me again, his lips tugging into a familiar smug grin that I hate so much. “I own you.” He jabs his finger in my collarbone before eyeballing the others. “All of you, and you will obey or suffer the consequences.”

Pushing Galen aside, he fixes his gaze upon his son. “You are Saint Lennox. Junior chapter leader and my heir apparent. I know you conspired behind my back to take my fiancée away. I don’t take kindly to loyalty being tested.” His eyes burn with deep-seated rage. “I’m here to remind you of the importance of Friday night.” His eyes flit to mine, and there’s no disguising the lust in his eyes, but there is plenty of hatred too. My heart slams against my rib cage, and goose bumps sprout on my arms. “Do not stand in my way, or you’ll be sorry. The last person who tried to take something precious from me didn’t survive to tell the tale.” He slaps Saint on the shoulder. “I’d hate for you to end up like your mother.”





CHAPTER 17


“HE’S LYING,” GALEN says as Saint drives us toward the biker bar Darrow favors.

“What if he’s not?” Saint says, through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles blanch white.

“He said it to do this very thing,” Theo says. “Upset you. Distract you.”

“Don’t give him that power, man,” Caz says.

“That’s easier said than done.” I run my hand along Saint’s thigh. “What do you know of your mother?” I tentatively ask.

“Nothing.” His bitter tone bounces off the walls of the Land Rover as he drives. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

“Anytime we asked him as kids, he told us Saint’s mother didn’t want him. Said she was dead to him and was to be dead to us,” Galen replies when Saint doesn’t.

“Maybe he meant that literally,” Caz says.

Brakes screech to a halt as Saint stops the car in the middle of the road. Car horns blare behind us, and more brakes screech as cars attempt to avoid crashing into us. Ordinarily, I’d rip Saint a new one for pulling this shit, but I say nothing because he’s a hot mess right now.

Dagger-filled looks and angry fists are raised as the occupants of other cars pass by us, still honking their horns.

Some brave soul gets out of his car, stalking to Saint’s window, pummeling his fists on the glass, shouting and demanding an explanation.

“Oh boy.” Caz chuckles as Saint lowers the window, pointing a gun at the man’s chest.

“You have three seconds to get back to your car before I put a bullet through your heart,” Saint deadpans, his voice cold and cruel. “One, two—” The man races off with his tail between his legs, jumping into his truck and hightailing it out of there.

Saint shuts the window, tucking the gun back into the waistband of his jeans. “I don’t want to talk about my mother or my father anymore.” He spits out the words like it pains him to say it. “We have shit to do, and that asshole is not distracting me with lies. Whether she’s alive or dead doesn’t matter. She’s always been dead to me, and I don’t care.” He starts up the car, speaking into the windshield. “So, unless you’ve got a death wish, drop the fucking subject.”

We don’t talk the rest of the journey, and I purposely focus on staring out of the passenger side window to stop myself from sneaking peeks at Saint. None of us buys the horseshit he’s peddling, and I’m worried about him. We all know Sinner is capable of killing his mother, and it would explain her absence, but her running off when Saint was born stacks up too. By then, she would’ve realized who knocked her up. It’s disgusting to think she left an innocent child with a monster, but it’s not inconceivable to imagine her running. She would’ve known not to run when she was pregnant. Sinner would never have let her take off with his kid, so maybe it was her plan all along.

The only thing we know for sure is we’ll never find out, and Sinner isn’t above using whatever means necessary to control his son.

The guys wait at the abandoned store, like last time, and I take Saint’s Land Rover, driving it to the sleazy biker bar and parking it outside.