Page 68 of Grave Revelations

She nodded a little too enthusiastically, but he gave her another fake smile and waited for her to leave the room. When she had gone, he pulled the laptop lid up and found the video was still displaying the audio feed only.

“These aren’t my clothes,” Rebecca said, her voice light and teasing again.

“They suited you.”

“Did you steal them?”

“I’m a Prince of Hell. What do you think?”

“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit. You aren’t your title. You’re whoever you want to be. If you want to be the evil, cruel devil from Primoria, go ahead. Not that I’ve ever seen you lift a finger against someone who didn’t deserve it. But stop using it as an excuse.” Rebecca paused for a moment before she said, “And don’t use it as an excuse to distance yourself from me.”

The audio crackled, but there were no sounds apart from a faint shuffling. What the hell was going on? Evil, cruel devil? Distance himself from her? It had been a few days since Simon had seen her, but he felt like the girl on the other end of this feed was someone he didn’t know.

Gabriel groaned.

Simon jerked upright, his back spasming in pain. He fell back, a knife of agony slicing through his chest and shoulders as his back seized.

Gritting his teeth against the ache, he pressed a button beside his bed, releasing more pain meds into his epidural. The sensation dulled, and he felt only a throbbing heat along his mid back and torso.

When his vision cleared enough to see the screen, Rebecca was on camera. She was sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her waist, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The physical pain was gone, and Simon’s chest rose and fell, but something in his heart had been torn free, the bloody beating organ severed from his body leaking all over the floor.

The medicine must have made him drowsy. When he opened his eyes, Valentina had returned and was ordering staff around. She barked commands as they moved efficiently.

Simon’s laptop was closed, resting just out of reach on a table in the corner with his phone beside it.

When everything in his room had been packed up, nurses came, rolling his bed and IV pole out of the room. Two people came behind, pushing a cart packed with all the items he’d accumulated while he recovered.

Valentina came last, carrying his phone and laptop. They stepped into an elevator, and a nurse pressed the first-floor button. As they rolled off the elevator, his back spasmed over a bump. He pressed the button at his side, sighing as the medicine rushed into him, heat flooding his veins for a moment before sweet numbness took over.

The world blurred—too much, he thought as his eyelids drooped.

When he next woke, he was in Valentina’s high-rise apartment, his bed facing out the window, the curtain drawn. Silvery moonlight filtered through the semi-sheer fabric, casting the room in a cold clinical light.

Simon scanned the space, seeing his phone and laptop across the room. A clock on the wall across from her expensive dining table read 4:15 a.m.

He sighed heavily, staring at the ceiling, thinking again of Rebecca’s words:“If you want to be the evil, cruel devil from Primoria, go ahead. Don’t use it as an excuse to distance yourself from me.”

It was Gabriel causing the distortion in the camera feed.

The picture ran through his mind again and again. Her tears weren’t for a mentor or a friend.

He pressed the button, releasing more medicine into his bloodstream, hoping it would dull this new ache settling in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear escaping his lashes.

When he woke again, the sun warmed his cheek, the curtain drawn aside.

“Well, good morning, sleepy head.”

Valentina’s cheerful tone was in sharp contrast to his mood.

“Morning.”

“Do you want tea? I can make your favorite.”

He glanced at the laptop and phone, still out of reach. “I should do some work. I have a lot to catch up on.”

“The partners understand. No one expects you to work in your condition.”

---