Page 46 of Look What You Made Me Do

Perfect, so he doesn’t deny hating me. I should have seen that coming, but for some reason, his admission sends a shard of pain straight through my chest.

God, I’m just as fucked up as he is. This boy has me all mixed up. Why do I even care if he hates me? Because he’s hot as fuck? Am Ithatshallow?

I push out a breath and shimmy out from between him and the kitchen counter, so I can get ready for bed. It’s been a long night, and the last thing I want to do is stand here and argue with Lucas about why he thinks I’m to blame for Gabriel’s death.

I’m walking to the bathroom, when he reaches out and grabs my arm, turning me back around, so I’m facing him. He drops his hand. “We’re not done talking.”

I flare my fingers at my sides, justinchingto slap that pretty boy face. He grabs my armone more timeand I swear to God…

“I’ve told you everything I know about Gabriel’s death, Lucas.”

His eyes darken. “But you don’t think he’s dead…”

I shrug.

“...and I can only assume that means you know more about his motivations than you’re admitting…” he says.

“Let me ask you something, Lucas. Do you think Gabriel is capable of faking his own death?” I ask.

He pauses, staring at me like this is the first time he’s even considering that question. “Maybe, if he felt like he had to,” he answers. “But I knew him better than anyone, and he had no reason to go off-grid like that. Besides, he’d tell me.”

“There are things he didn’t tell you,” I say, aware that statement is going to open a whole new can of worms. It’s the reason I haven’t said anything before. Because I know it would wreck Lucas emotionally, not that he’d ever admit it. Heaven forbid he be vulnerable.

“Like what?”

Do I really want to get into all this with Lucas right now? But if I don’t tell him at leastsomeof this, then he’s never going to understand why I think Gabriel could be alive. The dude harbored secrets, whether Lucas wants to believe that or not.

I lift my hands. “Well, for one, he was resentful about never being made a Sacred Son. Did you know that?”

Lucas shakes his head. “He never said that to me.”

“Of course, he didn’t. Why would he? He went to the Burning Crown senior counsel and lobbied to be a Sacred Son, and they denied his claim flat out. You know that.”

Gabriel was a West and Lucas’ cousin by blood, but not in name. Gabriel’s mom was Mr. West’s assistant, and they fucked around while Mr. West was still married. When she got pregnant, Mr. West said he’d pay for Gabriel’s upbringing, and even brought him to live in the West mansion for a while, but he never publicly claimed him—and for that reason, Gabriel could never be a Sacred Son. To the patriarchs of 1890 who founded the Burning Crown, it was all about legitimacy.

The senior counsel refused to alter the rules for Gabriel, and thatreallypissed him off. But the fact that his cousins weren't beating down the counsel’s door demanding Gabriel’s acceptance into the Sacred Sons…? Yeah,thatpissed him off even more.

“And second, Gabriel was doing a shit ton of drugs,” I say simply.

Lucas snorts at that. “Drugs,” he repeats, turning to pace. “You really want me to believe that? I saw him almost every day.”

I knew this would be hard for him to believe, which is why I never bothered to say anything before this. Why try to convince him? I know what’s what. Isaw Gabriel take some pretty hard shit, and when he did, he would rant for hours about all the wrongs that had been done to him. It was crazy.

“Yeah, you saw him every day for what, an hour?” I say. “Less than that? He’d pop by Rush House, chill for a second, then head off to get high. That’s twenty-three full hours youweren’twith him, Lucas. ButIwas,” I say with so much passion, I’m shoving the tip of my finger into my own chest. “...and he was a fucking assholein those twenty-three hours.”

He turns to face me, then shrugs, his pecs and biceps flexing with the motion.Ugh.You know what would be great? If he had a damn shirt on. It’s hard having this conversation with him standing in the middle of my apartment with nothing buthis underwear on. The guy looks like a goddamn buffet, and I haven’t eaten in days. I’m sweating a little.

“If that were true, why didn’t you say anything after he died?” It’s a simple question, but it’s chock-full of judgment and accusation.

“What did it matter back then? Like the rest of you, I thought he was dead.” I push out a breath. “...until he started skulking around my fucking apartment, picking fights with my one-night stands!”

Lucas crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. “This guy could be anyone, Wyn.”

“He called me ‘Pretty Thing,’” I say. “He had the same scar...”

Lucas glances down at his wrist, and adjusts his bracelets, like he’s stalling for time to gather his patience. Then looks back at me. “Let’s pretendfor a secondthat itwasGabriel. Why would he have to break in? Why would he hide his face from you? Hm?”

I look at him like he’s an idiot. “You thinkIknow why the maybe-Gabriel-stalker is doing what he’s doing? Toward the end, Gabriel became more and more unhinged. I couldn’t explainhalfof what he did on a normal day, let alonesomething likethis.”

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