Page 116 of Gabriel
“Explosion wound,” Kian answered, cold as ice. “Left shoulder. No exit wound.”
“There was an explosion and he was shielding me and now he can’t see… He says he can’t?—”
“BP dropping,” another nurse shouted. “Seventy over forty and falling—get him to trauma two!”
“Call ophthalmology!” someone else called. “Patient presenting with loss of vision.”
They moved in tandem, like dancers on a stage performing an ominous routine.
Gabriel was lifted from our arms onto a gurney, IVs stabbed into his veins, his vitals shouted down hallways. A nurse tried to push me aside, but I clung to the rail, following along until another nurse blocked my path.
“Amara,” Kian said behind me. “Let them work.”
“He’s bleeding,” I whispered, barely able to hear myself over the panic. “And he can’t see, Kian. What if?—”
“Let them work,” he repeated, my focus on my blood-soaked hands. My ears rang, the anger still whipped at my chest. How could Jet allow it to come to this? Gabriel and I were just chess pieces on a board, and he’d been playing us for who knew how long. And Elira… I inhaled a deep breath, trying not to spiral with fury or risk going on a rampage.
Gabriel’s hoarse voice echoed faintly as they wheeled him away.
“Amara, where are… you…”
“I’m right here!” I tried to follow, but a nurse caught me by the shoulders and pushed me back. “I need to—he can’t see—he needs to know I’m—” God, I just wanted to be there for him. I wanted to fix all the wrongs that he was paying for because of my siblings.
“You’ll just be in the way, miss,” the nurse said, her voice calm but iron-willed.
My heart shattered and I called out, “I’ll wait here, Gabriel. You just hang in there, okay?”
He didn’t have time to answer before the doors to trauma two swung shut, cutting him off.
I stood in the hallway, numb and shaking, trying not to scream or collapse under the weight of everything that had happened.
It was my fault. All of it. I brought Gabriel into harm’s way, playing into Jet’s manipulation. I did an unforgivable thing, and Gabriel—and possibly Anya—were the ones paying for it. How could I have been so stupid and blind when it came to my siblings?
Gabriel couldn’t see and was in surgery because of me. It didn’t matter that I was an unwilling participant to this charade with Jet and Elira, because he’d tried to warn me. But stupidly, I didn’t listen. Instead, I cuffed Gabriel, kept him a prisoner, and treated him horribly.
How could I face Gabriel after all that?
I stood frozen from guilt, heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.
Dust still clung to my skin, and I couldn’t stop shaking, staring at Gabriel’s blood drying in streaks down my arms.
Somewhere in another room, a machine beeped too fast and a child was crying, but it was all background noise.
All I could think about was the repercussions of my actions. I kidnapped Gabriel. Was manipulated by Elira and Jet. Experienced two explosions.
And now Gabriel couldn’t see and Jet had gone missing with Anya again. And Kian?—
Where was Kian?
“Amara.” His voice found me, solid and grounding. “Come with me. You need to get cleaned up.”
I turned toward him like I was surfacing from underwater.
His white shirt was singed at the collar. Blood—Gabriel’s—stained the front of his clothes too. But his face was composed, his expression already calculating. Kian in crisis mode was terrifying.
I followed him down a side corridor and slipped into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Afterwards, we made our way into an empty waiting room with low lighting, the hum of vending machines, and the faint smell of antiseptic and burnt coffee.
“He’s in surgery now,” Kian said. “The shoulder wound didn’t hit any major arteries. He’ll pull through.”
