Page 69 of Martyr
I glance at Saint. Ouranos wants to bring back Terror? That wasn’t on my radar, but itwouldexplain why he targeted Bow & Arrow so early on. My heart squeezes at the thought of my beloved club.
Did I build it on a literal shitstorm of trauma? Yes. But at the end of the day, that only made the work I was doing feel sweeter. I was able to employ a lot of people who were affected by human trafficking, and paying fair wages gave them a jumping-off point to a better life.
That means something.
It wasn’t all for nothing. It was a frivolous decision.
“You’d help bring Terror back?” Saint asks.
Gabriel makes a vague choking noise. He waves off the question and focuses back on the sheriff. The pool of blood under Bradshaw is getting bigger, but he passed out at some point during our conversation. He’s limp now, his cheek on the floor and his eyes shut.
“Doing nothing is just as bad as helping,” I say. “You’ve already single-handedly taken every opposing player off the board for him. Who else is going to stop him? There’s no one left.”
He glares at me. “There’s you.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
“Yes. The mighty Artemis. You stop him.” He crouches and pokes Bradshaw in the side. Then again. “You go up against him and see how you fare.”
I exhale. “Gabriel. Focus.”
“What?” His gaze snaps to mine. “I am focusing on what I can control. Which, right now, is if the pretty sheriff lives or dies. He refuses to sing for me, so I’m leaning toward the latter. Theamount of blood on the floor is staggering, isn’t it? So much red for such a little cut.”
“Help us,” Saint says.
Gabriel’s attention shifts again. He takes in Saint’s face, the visible tattoos. He seems to analyze every part of him, then pushes up to his full height. He steps right over Nathan Bradshaw, his heel sliding in the blood, and approaches. They’re pretty much the same height. While they’re eye to eye, I marvel at the similarities between them. Minus the tattoos, and a bit of Saint’s muscled frame, they may as well be brothers.
“Where’d you come from, Saint Hart?” Gabriel asks. “East Falls? A good family? Mommy and Daddy loved you, put you through the Sterling Falls school system. Did they watch with despair when you found this place? When you deviated from whatever their plan was? Or maybe they just turned away, moved far from this wretched place, and left you to your own devices. And you think that’s so ugly of them, hmm? Poor, forgotten Saint. The prickly, scowly man who creates art for a living. Wasted talent, they probably said. You could’ve been an engineer! Or an astronaut! You could’ve flown so fucking far away from Sterling Falls.
“But youdidn’t. You stayed here and you rot because of it. You sat in classes in high school while I learned how to swallow rich semen. I washed filth off my skin every night, but it never really comes off. Does it, Artemis?”
I flinch.
Gabriel smiles at Saint. “Were you rough the first time you touched her? Did she convince you it doesn’t matter that the bruises you left behind give her flashbacks of the men who paid to steal tastes of her skin? Shame.”
“He’s trying to get a rise out of you,” I say to Saint. “And it doesn’t matter either, because you can’t remember it.”
Saint cocks his head. He hasn’t stopped staring at Gabriel, although his jaw works. The muscle there leaps with every clench of his jaw.
“Can’tremember?” Gabriel inches closer, mirroring Saint’s head tilt. “Fascinating. I always wondered what it would be like to smash my brains in hard enough to forget my life.”
“I used to, too,” Saint murmurs.
I give him a look. He would’ve had no reason to think that way before Nyx died, right? Which means…
“We could do it again,” Gabriel offers. “See if any of it comes back.”
“It has been coming back.” Saint scowls. “Gold dress. Whiskey. I was so fucking angry at her?—”
“Oh, anger. Exciting. Keep going.”
“I was cruel. Simple as that.”
Gabriel pouts when Saint doesn’t elaborate.
But then Saint narrows his eyes. “Do you regret meeting Lyssa?”
29GABRIEL
