Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

50 | Nina & Santo

Nina

"Can I ask you something?"

Santo crouches several feet away, in the darkness where I can barely see him. I can only pick out the sculpted slope of his jaw if I know exactly where to look.

We've been locked in this position for a while. After resting for most of yesterday, we now have less than an hour until dawn. The same dawn that we're supposed to be airlifted out of here. I try not to let myself think about the ticking clock. The possibility that we'll still be locked down here when they arrive.

Or the unknown monster of whatever's going on with Santo right now. His head, and how the drugs are fucking with it. He hasn't had another slip—or whatever you'd call it. That might be because when Antonio came down once several hours ago with our food, Santo flat out refused to eat his.

This led to a beating that had me pressing my face painfully into the wall, unable to watch as Antonio's foot drove repeatedly into Santo's already bruised ribs. Santo played his part well, going still to seem unconscious. Antonio quickly realized that his son definitely couldn't eat if he beat him to death, and retreated upstairs in a storm-cloud of anger.

I was terrified that Antonio would resume his torture right then and there, but the piece of shit thinks he has all the time in the world. His arrogance works deliciously in our favor.

After splitting my plate of food—which Santo insisted on, no matter how many times I told him he needs the sustenance more than me—we settled on what seemed to be our only option. It's haphazard, but it's all we have.

Wait at the door until someone opens it again, jump whoever that is, and get the fuck out.

"What question could you possibly have in this moment?" he murmurs back.

I shrug, a little self-conscious, not wanting to flat out admit I just really want to hear his voice. "Who is Arioch?"

Surprise registers on his face for a moment. "Where did you hear that?"

"At the concert. That guy called you Arioch." I'd meant to ask him about it before, but after that concert everything had quickly spiraled out of control.

He considers his words for a few moments, reluctant to broach the topic. "Each member has a different name—it makes it harder for outsiders to understand if they hear us discussing matters. Over the years, we just started using the names at meetings, and all the time." He shifts, swallowing a groan of pain over his sore muscles.

"Why?"

"I think because it makes it all a little more convenient. Arioch is the name of a fallen angel who became a demon bent on revenge." He clears his throat. "It's easier to be a bad person if it's a different part of you, you know? Some dark section of your soul that's responsible instead."

"Will you miss Serpentine?" My voice is a mere whisper, either from the gravity of our situation or anxiety over his answer.

He doesn't answer, breathing out a low chuckle. "You'll always be my questions girl, won't you?"

I immediately nod in agreement, and he shakes his head in begrudging amusement. Appreciation surges through me as he visibly pushes back trepidation at revealing something he thinks might drive me away.

Maybe once he does that enough, he'll see nothing can accomplish that.

"Yes, tesoro," he says softly. "I'll miss it. I'll miss it the way I miss my mother."

And what can I say to that? To the sinner who's become a glutton for his punishment?

The only thing I can think is that if Santo's a demon bent on revenge, I'll follow him anywhere. I'll let him take down anyone he deems deserving, and I'll crave the protection he provides—even in all its depravity—because the worst parts of him still depict a wonderful picture of someone I desperately and wholeheartedly need. And I'll return the favor as best as my heart and soul let me.