My Cruel Salvation (Fallen Saint # 3) - J. Kenner Page 0,7
the seat, her head on his shoulder as he slipped an arm around her. They still had a few more minutes before they arrived, and silence lingered as the limo traversed the city blocks.
After a moment, though, she reached for his hand again. “Are you okay?”
He understood why she was asking the question. After all, the last few weeks had been significantly out of the ordinary. Anna Lindstrom, one of his oldest friends and his executive assistant at the foundation, had proven herself to be a traitor to him and the organization.
As if that weren’t enough, an old enemy had appeared on the horizon. And he’d almost lost Ellie herself, only fate, timing, and the deep roots of an ancient tree had kept her from falling to her death before he’d arrived in time to save her.
As much as it pained him to lose Anna, her death and betrayal had been almost nothing compared to the knowledge of how close he’d come to almost losing Ellie.
And the biggest miracle of all? That even though she’d been reeling after finally learning his deepest and darkest secrets, that night when her car had gone over the cliff, she’d been on her way to tell him that she still loved him. That she still needed him.
She was his goddamn universe. And Anna had almost stolen her from him.
“Devlin?”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. He caught her eyes and saw the worry that lingered there. “I only—”
“What?”
He frowned, not sure how to put voice to his fears. She’d come back to him even after learning the truth about the Myers assassination. More than that, after learning that he was the brains and funding behind Saint’s Angels, a super-secret, off-the-books vigilante organization that, as far as Devlin was concerned, did at least as much good in the world as the very above-board and internationally lauded Devlin Saint Foundation.
That, however wasn’t common knowledge. And with her background in law enforcement, it hadn’t been something he’d expected Ellie to understand. It had been his biggest secret … and his biggest fear.
And yet here she was, right at his side. Their love stronger than even the most potent of obstacles, including her own hesitations about what he did.
“Devlin?” She was studying him, her forehead creased with concern.
He stroked her cheek. “I’m fine. I only—”
“What?”
He swallowed, the doubts he’d pushed away rising back to the surface. “This award,” he said. “What do you think of it?” Was she proud of him for what the foundation had accomplished, or did she think that the existence of Saint’s Angels and its methods made a humanitarian honor hypocritical?
She hesitated before answering. Only enough to draw breath, but his fears bubbled during that infinitesimal delay. Then he saw pride flicker in her eyes, and even before she spoke, he knew what her answer would be, and his heart swelled as she told him that she thought he deserved not just the award, but more. And, she added, that he shouldn’t doubt himself.
At that, he laughed. “I rarely do.” With El, however, he knew he didn’t have to be strong all the time. He could show his doubts, his fears. And no matter what, she would love him.
It was a simple truth, but it still awed him, and he let the glow of that reality fill him through the rest of their conversation until the limo finally pulled up in front of the Dorset Theater, a recently restored theater in Manhattan’s theater district that was serving as the ceremony’s venue. “We’re here,” he said, then pulled her in for one last kiss before the valet opened the door and they stepped out onto the red carpet.
He paused, taking in the crowd, the noise, the cameras, and then Ellie’s face, which was positively glowing with pride. He soaked it in, letting her happiness for him seep into his bones as they began to walk toward the door. Then she turned to him, and he saw the confusion flicker in her eyes. He started to ask what was wrong, but realized he didn’t need to.
He’d tuned out the cacophony, but now voices were getting through. Shouts from the reporters, raised voices with harsh questions. At first, it was all a blur. And then he heard those two horrible words—The Wolf.
No.
His blood turned to ice as he searched for the source, but as he did, he realized the question could have come from anyone, and he tightened his grip on Ellie’s hand as an anonymous reporter shouted the