Page 68 of Ruthless God

I shake my head. No. Not now. Not when I can still feel the phantom grip of his fingers clawing at nothing.

“I wanted to dive in after him,” I admit, voice gravel-lined and raw. “But I didn’t.”

Because I knew jumping in after him would have been a death sentence. Instead, I made my way down the jagged path to the beach, slipping, stumbling, half-blinded by rain and darkness.

And I searched. Until my feet bled. Until the storm faded. Until the sun came up. Until it became painfully clear that I was alone.

Gabriel was gone.

And for the first time in my life, I had no idea if I was supposed to feel relief or grief.

“The coast guard found his body three days later.” My voice is even, controlled. It’s a stark contrast to the chaos of that memory. “Nearly fifty miles offshore.”

I don’t mention the condition of his body. I don’t mention how I collapsed when I saw what was left of him. How my stomach twisted violently, the bile rising too fast to stop it. How I turned away and vomited into the sand, my hands shaking, my throat raw.

Because no matter how much I hated him, no matter how much blood had been spilled between us… he was still my twin. My other half. And when I looked at what was left of him, all I could think was he’s really gone. And so was the part of me that only existed because he did.

“Did you verify it was him?”

I snap my gaze to her, my irritation flaring hot and immediate.

“Of course I fucking did.”

Cecely doesn’t flinch. But she does work her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking. That look. That calculating, piecing-shit-together look irritates me more than her question.

I take a slow breath, forcing myself to rein it in.

Then she says, “Did they check his dental records with the body found?”

I narrow my eyes. Before I can answer, she rushes on, words tumbling out like she’s afraid I’ll cut her off.

“Because if they didn’t, then you don’t know for sure that the body was his.”

Silence slams between us. A thick, suffocating thing. My grip tightens on the armrest. Because I don’t like where she’s going with this. And worse? I don’t like that I don’t have a fucking answer. Because they didn’t verify his dental records with the body that was found. They took my word that it was my brother and that was that.

“You’ve thought this entire time that the man pretending to be Gabriel wasn’t Gabriel.”

Her voice softens, but there’s an edge to it, something almost pitying. I hate it.

She continues, “I think maybe it’s time we consider that it is him.”

A sharp, icy stillness settles inside me. No! But before I can snap back, before I can shut down this ridiculous idea, she leans forward, reaching into her back pocket.

I watch, pulse thrumming, as she pulls out her phone.

“I replied to his text.” Her fingers tighten around the device, like she knows she’s about to drop a bomb. “And he replied instantly.”

She hands me the phone, waiting for me to look. For the first time in a long time, I’m not sure I want to look. But I do. I skim over the messages, reading between the lines, picking apart the phrasing, the rhythm, the choice of words. Then my gaze snaps back to her.

“He said he was obsessed with you before?”

Cecely shifts slightly, but her voice stays even. “That night at the club.”

The blush is back. Subtle. But there. And suddenly, I’m sure there’s more to this story than she’s telling me. I set the phone down, my fingers drumming against the chair as I watch her.

“If you know something I don’t, now would be the time to tell me.”

She tilts her head, expression unreadable. “Such as?”

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