Sweet Girl (BWWM)

Chapter Seventeen (Filler)

REALLY Short Chapter,
Don't hate me plssss!
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Third Person
Santo's Flashback.
5 years ago. Age 25.

"Promise you'll come back to me."

Her blonde hair was pulled back back into a messy bun. Her blue eyes tired and full of tears. But he never failed to get lost in them.

"Baby it's just a meeting."
She had been being overly emotional. Santo's mother was suspected that the girl was pregnant, but of course the couple denied the allegations.

Seeing her pout, he gave in.
"I always do, Rachel."
He smiled, it was his last genuine smile.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss, neither of them knew it would be their last.

The days leading up to Rachel's death were not unusual for the highschool sweethearts. But their was an uptick in violence between two particular families due to an arms deal gone bad. Cars were set on fire, blown up, places of business shot up just for the hell of it. But it was normal. It was a life Saint and Rachel were used to.

Santo was leaving to go meet with his father, they needed to discuss the matter of their businesses being shot up. It was fucking with their money. You never want to fuck with a made man's money. That was rule number one. Rule number two was, never mess with their love.

As his car pulled into his dad's drive way he could feel something nagging him. His stomach began to churn, but he chalked it up nothing. It was nothing, it was always nothing with Santo Genovese.

Rule number three is trust your gut. Santo should have trusted his gut.

His father greeted him at the door, his signature smug look on his face. His father was never a happy man.
"We have a lot discuss, son."

Their meeting was no longer than 45 minutes, but Santo couldn't focus as an incoming text from Rachel shook his nerves.

I don't think I'm safe. I'm scared, hurry home.

"You need to gather your men and—"
Before his father could finish his sentence Santo was out of his seat, calling Rachel and racing towards the front door and to his car.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Please pick up. "
He muttered as he raced down the streets of Philadelphia, trying his hardest to make it back out of the city in time.

He kept hitting redial and each time his sweet girl didn't answer the phone he could feel apart of him telling him that she was already gone. And as he approached his house he could feel that feeling only managed to get stronger and stronger.

He couldn't even turn into his drive way as there laid his men.

He quickly removed his gun from his holster and leapt from his car. His friends, family, his men laid there— blood pouring from their wounds.

He entered the house and it looked like it had been ransacked.
"Rachel!"
He screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Where are you!?"
No answer. His heart sank with each step he took up those stairs. Each time he didn't hear her voice calling out to him.

"Rachel baby, fuck answer me!"
He pushed door after door open, but he could not find her.

But then he heart the slightest whimper from a spare bedroom.

Opening the door, his heart broke. There she was, barely clinging onto life. She clutched her throat and wheezed as blood poured from her neck. Ear to ear was her throat sliced.

He rushed to her and cradled her lifeless body in his strong arms.
"Don't do this to me, Rae."
Tears streamed down his face, he knew.

"Please."
His voice cracked as he applied pressure, but she was dead. She was gone. His love was no more as she laid in his arms. He was covered in her blood.

"Why! Why her?"
He sobbed and held her close in his arms. Maybe if he squeezed her tight enough? Maybe if he kissed her?
Maybe if—

The day Rachel Victoria Smithfield, the day he lost their unborn child. The day they both died in his arms was the day Santo became Saint.

Short filler Chapter. Now we know who Rachel is, and also a little bit about Saint's past.

Love you guys. Until next time!
S.C💆🏾‍♀️