All Chapters of His Halo is a Lie: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The café hums around us like the world has no idea what kind of danger just slipped into my life. People sip their lattes, fingers tap against keyboards, voices blend into low chatter. The air smells of coffee and sugar, warm and ordinary. But sitting across from me, Nico turns it all into something sharp, something unsteady.His smile doesn’t match his eyes. His eyes are hungry.“I didn’t think I’d get this lucky,” he says softly, as though we’re old friends catching up. His hand lingers against mine on the table, light but threatening. “Saint usually keeps his toys locked up tighter than this.”I pull my hand back, slow so I don’t provoke him, though every muscle in me screams to yank away. “I’m not a toy.”His grin widens. “No, you’re not. That’s what makes this fun.”My chest tightens. I glance toward the window. Lucio is still there, leaning against the car, scanning the street like always. He hasn’t looked inside. He doesn’t see who I’m sitting with.For a moment, I consider scr

The number is fire in my pocket.For two days, I carry it with me everywhere, folded, hidden, pressed so close to me it feels like it’s carved into my skin. I tell myself I won’t use it. I tell myself it’s dangerous, reckless, stupid.But the truth?Every hour that passes, I want it more.Saint has been gone more than usual. His phone calls are short, clipped, ending before I can press him. At night when he does come home, he doesn’t lie down beside me, he disappears into his study, his voice echoing through the walls as he argues with Lucio about territory, about Nico, about power.Never about me. Never about us.I feel like a ghost in my own skin.And ghosts don’t get answers.It’s midnight when I finally break.The penthouse is quiet, only the hum of the city outside. I sit on the floor beside my bed, the phone in one hand, the napkin in the other. My hands shake so badly the numbers blur.I type them in once. Delete. Again. Delete.On the third try, I press call.The line rings on

The city looked different tonight. Los Angeles used to glow for me, its skyline alive with promise, but now the lights felt hollow. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was because every truth Saint had confessed left cracks in the way I saw him… and us.I stood by the window of his penthouse, watching the glass hold my reflection hostage. I told myself I should walk away. It would be the smart thing, the safe thing. But safety had been gone the moment Saint Lachlan walked into my life bleeding and dangerous.I heard him before I saw him. His footsteps were heavy, deliberate, carrying that command he wore like a second skin.“You’re quiet,” he said.I turned just enough to meet his gaze. His shirt hung open at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows, but it wasn’t the casualness of him that caught me, it was his eyes. Dark, unreadable, carrying storms I didn’t know if I could survive.“What’s left to say?” My voice came out thinner than I wanted.He stepped closer. Even the air seemed to tighte

The penthouse felt like a cage the moment the door closed behind him.Saint had left with Lucio, his parting words sharp commands meant to make me feel secure, but security was a myth in his world. No number of locks or guards stationed outside could stop the fear that had already wrapped itself around me.I paced the living room, the silence pressing against me harder with every step. The city stretched below, bright and alive, but I felt like I was miles away from it. From everything.He told me to stay here. To wait. But waiting meant drowning in questions. Waiting meant imagining every way this night could end, and all the ways I could lose him.I pressed a hand against my chest, willing my heart to slow down. It was useless. All I could hear was the memory of Lucio’s voice at the door.“It’s Vincent. He’s making his move. Tonight.”Vincent. The name felt poisonous on my tongue. Whoever he was, whatever power he held, he had already reached into my life once. I had felt it at the

I had not moved from the couch. Hours seemed to stretch and twist around me, the silence heavy and suffocating. The phone lay on the cushion beside me, black screen like a wound. I could not bring myself to touch it again.Vincent’s voice still rang in my ears. Smooth. Cruel. Certain.“Saint cannot protect you from me… You are already breaking.”My body still trembled with the memory of it, with the chill that had spread through me when he said my name. It was not just that he had found me. It was that he knew exactly how to reach inside and pull at the weakest parts of me.Every creak of the penthouse, every whisper of the city outside, felt like a threat now. I had locked the doors like Saint told me, but it was not enough. Locks could not stop a man like Vincent. Neither could guards.I hugged my knees to my chest, my robe bunched around me, and tried to breathe evenly. Tried to remember who I was before all of this. Before Saint. Before blood and danger shadowed every corner of my