♱Recommended song: Liability By Drake♱
♱Noa's Pov♱
I felt entirely consumed by guilt—hating that I had sent her away like that.
It just felt like my only option at the moment.
Her even having knowledge about my parents threw me for a loop, and my only instinct was to tell her to leave.
It was what I was used to doing.
But God did it feel so abnormal to do it to her.
I'm realizing now that Vincent was the only person who could've told her, which left me feeling slightly confused.
He has no recollection of us.
So I can only assume that she was asking about me from the start.
And while the fact that she was asking around about my past bothered me, it also made my internal thoughts scream at me.
She was only worried about you.
I let out a deep breath, feeling so fucked up for how I treated her.
And even if my ego was screaming at me not to—I couldn't stop myself from exiting my office to head toward her room.
I wasn't quite sure what I'd say.
Sorry wasn't a word in my vocabulary.
But I'd surely make it one if that's what it took.
My brows furrowed upon knocking on her door, realizing there was only silence on the other end of the door.
I didn't hesitate to turn the knob, instructing my men to stay put.
The last thing I need is for her to be getting out of the shower and my men witnessing such a sight.
Then I'll have two men to bury and new job positions to fill.
I looked around the empty room, taking in her made bed and her phone on the nightstand.
Something is definitely not right.
I backed out of the room, determining she might just be with Vincent or that one brunette.
But I couldn't lie and say that my heart wasn't pounding in my chest.
It made traumatic memories resurface—recalling the specific feelings.
How my heart raced as I waited in the hospital lobby with my father, hoping that my mom would be okay.
And how it raced all over again as I did the same thing—except this time I was all alone in the lobby, signing off on papers that declared I was becoming the temporary leader of the Saints.
"Vincent," I called out, laying eyes on the man who seemed to be talking frantically to some of the men.
Vincent turned around, "Noa right now is not a good time—"
"Have you seen Lunden?" I asked, not even bothering to be subtle about it.
I was hoping that this was all a misunderstanding—that she'd pop out of nowhere with an attitude and a request for an apology at my expense.
God, I would willingly get on my knees and apologize to her if that's what it took for her to show up right now.
Vincent's brows furrowed, looking around frantically, which easily made my head tilt.
He knows something.
"Vincent, what's going on?" I questioned, taking a step toward him.
The man blinked a few times, clearly piecing something together in his own head, "Well, for starters, Arya was missing this morning... and if Lunden can't be found either then—"
"The Reapers have acted," I cut him short, realizing that there were no coincidences ever.
Vincent slammed his hand down onto the table, "Fuck!" he gritted out.
And while it felt like all I could see was red, I knew I needed to remain focused and level-headed.
We only had so much time.
"Get me details on Lunden—and figure out where she was last seen," I called out, unconsciously balling my hands into fists at my side.
I need to calm down.
I need...
Lunden.
I need her.
"Why would they take Arya and Lunden?" Vincent asked, clearly not understanding the Reaper's motives. "I mean they're both tied to me—for all they knew, you could've left them both for dead."
But I knew the Reaper's motives.
And I knew that Lunden wasn't just tied to Vincent.
She was tied to me too.
And I would never—and I mean never leave her for dead.
I would die before I ever let that happen.
"Noa..." Vincent trailed off as his eyes analyzed my face.
He knows that I know something.
And I know it's best to tell him now—we can't be on different pages.
Not when it came to Lunden's life.
He has to know everything so we can plan accordingly.
I let out a deep sigh, well, here goes nothing.
"Lunden isn't just tied to you," I finally said, easily making Vincent's brows furrow.
He shook his head, "Who else would she be..." but he easily trailed off when I raised a brow, "What the fuck Noa," he said, shoving me back, but I only resisted the forceful push, expecting such actions from him.
"It just happened one night and then it turned into more—"
"More? Oh, for fucks sake, no wonder she was kidnapped Noa," Vincent cut me off, clearly growing angrier by the second. "I-I can't even fathom what to say to you right now—you've been fucking around with my sister... behind my back?" he said, clearly piecing the details together, and I knew that he at least deserved time to process it all.
It sounds kind of bad when he puts it like that.
But it wasn't just fucking around to me. At least not anymore.
Vincent shook his head a few times, "Noa, you practically ruin every single woman you mess with, and now you're after my sister? You could have anyone—"
"I don't want anyone," I cut him short, knowing no one would ever measure up to Lunden.
Vincent took a large step toward me, his face entirely hardened and stoic as he said, "Well, you better find someone else to fucking want, Noa—you're not hurting my sister."
I clenched my jaw, "I'm not going to..." but I quickly trailed off, realizing that I might've already hurt her.
And the realization that I hurt her—hurt me.
Vincent stressfully ran his hands over his face, "Noa, what did you do?" he asked, clearly taking in the obvious expression pinned on my face.
And even I didn't want to say the dreadful words aloud.
I hurt Lunden.
Even thinking about saying it made me wince.
I pursed my lips, "We had a disagreement," I said, choosing my words wisely.
Vincent raised a brow, "A disagreement?" he questioned back to me.
I reluctantly nodded, "Well, she knew about my parents, which I assume was due to you?" I questioned, suddenly flipping the blame onto him.
I don't know why we were playing the blame game.
It definitely wasn't going to get Lunden back.
But at this very moment, it somehow felt like it.
"She wanted to know—and I wasn't even aware that she was messing around with you," he explained, letting out another deep sigh as he took a step back from me, "But of course, you probably snapped at her right?" he questioned, knowing me all too well.
I remained silent, not even wanting to relive the look on her face when I told her to get out.
If I wouldn't have kicked her out, she'd still be here right now.
"And now you're probably going to go back to Aliza or some other—"
"I'm not going back to anyone," I cut him short, knowing there was only one person that I belonged to.
But Vincent only laughed to himself, shooting my irritation up further, "Sure Noa, let's act like you don't get bored with everyone you've ever messed with. Like Lunden isn't just like—"
"For fucks sake, I love her," I cut him short, not even being able to stop the words from escaping my mouth.
It was so unexpected that it even surprised me.
Vincent's face fell, "You... no, you can't be."
I sucked in a sharp breath, clearly processing my own feelings, "I'm in love with her," I whispered with furrowed brows.
Vincent shook his head frantically, like this was the worst news he's ever heard, "You-you haven't told her this, right? You guys haven't exchanged these words yet?" he asked, clearly hoping that I hadn't said the three words to her.
And while I knew I hadn't and that she hadn't—I couldn't help but reflect back to that night out on the balcony.
When it was clear that Lunden was about to slip and say the three meaningful words to me.
It scared me—but only because I was ready to say them back.
However, when Lunden opted out of her confession entirely, I let it go—especially after sensing her hesitation and discomfort.
I really wish I would've said them that night.
"Noa?" Vincent impatiently said, clearly on edge as he waited for my answer.
I finally shook my head, "No we haven't but—"
"But nothing, you guys can't go there—you-you..." Vincent trailed off, sucking in a visible breath before he said, "You can't put her life at risk like that."
And suddenly, I realized that this wasn't about his closest friend dating his sister or vice versa.
This wasn't even about Vincent to begin with.
This was about Lunden, and keeping her safe.
"She's my sister and that is already a risk itself—can even you imagine her being known for making you fall in love? God, there would definitely be a price on her head," he rambled before suddenly his eyes widened, "There already is a price on her head—the Reapers took her for a reason, Noa."
And I knew he was right.
I knew the situation I was putting her in.
It was why I had put the feelings off for so long.
It was why I hadn't made things official.
But after openly making love to her—I knew there was no going back.
I knew I could only be hers.
Vincent let out a sigh, and I could easily see the anger fading away from his face, clearly waving some sort of white flag.
"Look, you know I love you like a sister, and I want nothing more than for you to be happy," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, "I just... I don't like the idea of Lunden's life being at risk—knowing that rivals would target her first."
I sighed, hating that those were the facts of the situation.
I mean, I think about it daily.
And it was so positively clear that Vincent was doing the opposite of giving me his blessing.
If that was even a thing.
"Boss, we have the last footage of Ms. Spade and Ms. Riva—it's clear that they were both taken," one of my men called out, easily interrupting Vincent and I's tense conversation.
I nodded, ready to figure out our next moves—even if it didn't necessarily mean that Lunden would be in my arms after it was all said and done.
But at least she'd be safe.
"In my opinion—taking Arya because she's your best fighter is a bigger slap to the face than them taking her because she's my girlfriend," Vincent said, sliding his phone from his pocket.
I furrowed my brows, "Best fighter?" I questioned, following the suited men down the hall.
"Yeah, I mean Arya's not as good as Lundy—but she definitely tops everyone else," Vincent explained, typing on his phone.
But I only grew more confused.
"Arya isn't a part of the Saints," I said, knowing that I'd recall if we had recruited her.
I didn't even remember her name until Vincent just said it.
Vincent suddenly stopped walking, forcing not only me but the suited men to stop walking as well, "Yes she is—why else would she be here?" he questioned.
I pursed my lips, "Maybe because she's your girlfriend?" I retorted, knowing that I had assumed her presence here was just from her connection to Vincent.
Vincent gave me a deadpan look, "Well, yeah she is, but I met her at one of the parties—she told me you guys recruited her off the streets," he said, clearly hoping to jog my memory.
But it only made something click in my head instead.
"Get me everything you can on Arya Riva," I said, easily making Vincent's brows raise as my men went off to work.
Vincent shook his head, "You don't think... Arya is a mole?" he asked, clearly not falling into the suggestion.
But it was no longer a suggestion.
It was clear that something was off with her, especially with the lies she fed to Vincent.
I hummed coldly, "I don't think—I know."
I'm never one to not trust my instincts.
And I swear to the Gods above, if Arya played even a small part in Lunden's kidnapping—that's her head.
Along with Santino's because he's the one who orchestrated it.
I clenched my jaw at even the thought of the Reapers touching her.
I swear I'll kill every single one of them—they won't even have a bloodline anymore.
Vincent blinked a few times, "I think it's time to call my parents," he said, realizing how deep this is all getting.
I nodded, knowing we could use their help, "I think it is too."