Page 25 of Psycho Saints

Despite myself, I let out a short laugh. "Don't tempt me." Even after everything that had happened, he was trying to alleviate it all, and I was somewhat grateful.

Cristian's expression turned serious again. "If you want, you can inflict pain on me. Berate me, cut me open, make me pay for what I did to you."

I shook my head. "No." The truth was, I was just too damn tired and drained to even consider it.

He pulled me closer, his arms tightening around me. "My brain might be messed up, sweetheart, but I only want to give you what I believe you deserve. You should be a mom. I hate that Lily was taken from you. If I could bring her back, I would. I'd burn down the entire world."

"Burning down the world would make it a pointless endeavor," I muttered.

Cristian chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you now. I've chosen you, kitten. You're everything to me."

His words touched something deep inside me. I knew it was toxic, this devotion born from violence and trauma. But I didn't care. Knowing someone would give anything for me, it was something I perversely craved.

I looked up at him, studying the lines of his face. "I'm still angry," I said softly. "But I understand, in a twisted way. Just... don't ever do anything like that again. I need to be able to trust you."

Cristian nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I swear it, kitten. You have my word, for whatever it's worth to you now."

I sighed and rolled back over, and his fingers threaded through my hair soothingly.

As I gazed out at the city - my city, according to Cristian - my eyelids grew heavy. The events of the night caught up with me, exhaustion seeping in. Cristian's steady heartbeat against my back and his fingers toying with my hair lulled me towards sleep.

My last conscious thought before drifting off was how wrongly right it felt to be here, in Cristian's arms, looking out over our empire. The darkness I'd embraced no longer seemed so terrifying. It felt like home.

13

CRISTIAN

Icradled Scarlet's sleeping form, her warmth seeping into my chest. My fingers tangled in her hair, savoring its silky texture. Guilt gnawed at my insides, a festering wound that wouldn't heal. What I'd done to her—removing the IUD, forcing myself on her—it haunted me. My broken mind had convinced me it was the only way to keep her, to make her mine forever.

"You're mine now, kitten," I whispered, my lips brushing her ear. "I need you. Can't live without you."

The thought of losing her sent a tremor through my body. Memories of Tessa's loss crashed over me, threatening to drown me in despair. I couldn't go through that again, not with Scarlet. My feelings for her burned hotter, brighter, consuming me whole.

Part of me yearned to break her, to claim every inch of her body and soul. But I knew better. Scarlet was a wildfire, untamable and fierce. Trying to extinguish her flame would only leave us both in ashes.

I had to change. For her. Fight against the darkness that clouded my mind, become more human. It terrified me, the thought of battling my own nature. But Scarlet was worth it. Worth everything. The chaos that had been my constant companion for so long would have to be tamed, leashed like a wild beast. It was a daunting task, one that made my hands tremble and my heart race with uncertainty. I knew my own mind was a mess, something I struggled with, but I could do this, for her.

My body ached to bury myself inside her, to ensure she carried our child. The whispers in my head grew louder, urging me to take what I wanted. I gritted my teeth, forcing those thoughts away. I wouldn't betray her trust again, no matter how much my fractured psyche screamed for it. The memories of Tessa's loss haunted me, the way she'd stolen our unborn child from me, fueling my desire to create new life, but I knew I had to resist. Scarlet deserved better than my impulsive, primal urges. She didn't deserve the feral darkness that haunted the shadows of my mind.

"I'll be better," I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'll become the man you deserve, sweetheart. Whatever it takes." My lips lingered on her skin, savoring her warmth. I inhaled deeply, committing her scent to memory. It was a promise to her, to myself, and to whatever higher power might be listening, not that I'd ever truly believed in anything above.

I'd walk through fire, fight an army, or wrestle my own demons if that's what it took to be worthy of her.

I lay awake, my eyes fixed on the glittering cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The night was alive with twinkling lights, a stark contrast to the darkness that often consumed my thoughts. Scarlet stirred beside me, rolling over in her sleep and nuzzling into my chest. Her warmth seeped into my skin, a reminder of her presence, her vulnerability. My arm instinctively tightened around her, pulling her closer, molding her body against mine. The urge to protect her surged through me, fierce and primal, a feeling so intense it threatened to overwhelm me. My kitten, my sweetheart, my anchor in the chaos that constantly swirled within me.

My hand drifted to her belly, wondering if a new life was already taking root inside her. The possibility both thrilled and terrified me. After everything that had happened with Tessa, the thought of Scarlet carrying my child filled me with a desperate hope.

The door creaked open, and I sensed one of my brother's, although I couldn't see them behind me.

"How's she doing?" Tyrone asked, his voice low.

"Asleep," I whispered back, carefully extracting myself from Scarlet's embrace. She mumbled something incoherent but didn't wake as I rose and turned to my brother.

I followed Tyrone downstairs, my bare feet barely making a sound on the cold stone flooring. The familiar scent of whiskey greeted me as we entered the kitchen, where Julian was already posted up against the counter, nursing a glass. His eyes flicked up briefly when we walked in, then dropped back to his drink, as if the amber liquid held all the answers we needed.

Tyrone poured himself a generous measure before speaking, the clink of glass on glass echoing in the tense silence. "This past week has been a goddamn mess with the Russo family," he said, his voice low and controlled. "I've been running myself ragged, meeting with our family and our men, trying to get a handle on the fallout."

I grabbed a glass for myself, not bothering to wait for an invitation. The whiskey burned a familiar path down my throat, a welcome distraction from everything swirling in my head. "And?" I prompted, already reaching to refill my glass. "What's the verdict?"