Page 122 of Gabriel
“His vision makes no difference to me. It’ll be a difficult transition, but we can work around it together.” My voice shook, but I didn’t let it break. “Like I said, if he’ll have me, I’ll marry him in a heartbeat. I’d marry him in every lifetime, and together we can protect everyone.”
Strangely enough, I meant those words.
Raphael studied me like he couldn’t quite decide whether to end me or let me live. Then, he finally turned to look at Kian.
“If my brother agrees,” he said, “then fine. A marriage.”
“And Jet?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His gaze flicked to me. “Don’t push your luck, girl.”
I had no idea what that meant, but the deal was made. Not sealed, but set in motion.
As Raphael and Sailor entered Gabriel’s room, I stayed behind, my legs unsteady.
I knew what came next: telling Gabriel that I lied about the pregnancy and begging him to marry me—for peace, for protection, and maybe even for love.
And I prayed to God he’d say yes.
Gabriel
The first thing I felt was pain.
It wasn’t sharp and immediate, but more like heavy and shapeless. Almost as if my entire body were covered in one large bruise.
My chest throbbed, every breath scraping against the inside of my ribs like broken glass. There was a tightness around my eyes, strange and wrong, like something was pressing down behind them.
What the fuck happened?I thought to myself, but then the memories came rushing in. The explosion. Amara screaming my name, Kian instructing me to stay awake as I went in and out of consciousness, unable to see anything around me.
My fingers twitched against stiff sheets. My hands moved, searching, confused—reaching for something or someone. But there was only the weightless press of a blanket, and the sharp, sterile tang of antiseptic thick in the air. Underneath it, the scent of latex and burned fabric.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Nothing.
There were no shadows, no color. No light bleeding through closed lids. Just black. Not even that, really. Just nothing.
I reached up to my face and brushed against a gauze.
My heart kicked against my ribs like it was trying to break free. I tried to breathe, counting in my head to keep the panic from swallowing me whole.
One… two…
“He’s awake,” said a male voice I would recognize anywhere.
What the hell was Raphael doing here?
Had I died and not gotten the memo? If so, and this was the afterlife, then Dios santo, I needed a tour guide and a complaint sheet. I was too young for that shit.
Maybe I was hallucinating.
“Gabriel?”Thatvoice was more like sandpaper against silk. Elira. Fuck, I had to be alive, because there was no way the two of us would be in the afterlife together if I was dead. “Amara, he’s awake,” she said, louder this time.
The room held its breath—so did I—as I heard the door click shut, then a shuffle of feet.
“Gabriel.” Her voice cracked slightly on my name. “It’s me, Amara.”
The warmth was familiar as her hand slipped into mine, her fingers curling gently around my own like they’d always belonged there. She squeezed, not too tight, just enough to ground me.
I turned my face toward her voice, chasing it like a lifeline in the dark. My eyelids fluttered, instinct taking over, but my bandage made it impossible to open my eyes. I reached up, ripping it off.
