Page 133 of Gabriel

Luis blew out a breath like he’d been holding it for days. Then, in the same typical suave fashion that I’d seen in Gabriel before too, he ruined the moment with a smirk.

“Can’t wait for the wedding,” he muttered. “The toasts are gonna be a riot. If I feel generous, I might throw you off a building just to lighten the mood.”

“Make sure it’s after I cut the cake.”

“Deal.” I moved past him, my shoulder brushing his lightly. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Amara.”

“Keep both eyes on me, Luis.”

He didn’t answer, just tilted his head, gave me one last unreadable look, and vanished through the hospital doors.

Gabriel

The door clicked open with a soft hiss of air, and I shifted on the bed, a sharp bolt of pain radiating from my shoulder. The bandages across my chest pulled tight with the movement, and the itch beneath them was a constant, maddening presence.

“Who’s there?” I gritted, my voice edged with fatigue.

“Your favorite voice of reason,” Luis replied dryly, his familiar tone cutting through the air. “Santo Cristo, Gabriel. You got really fucked up.”

“You don’t fucking say.” I let the sarcasm coat my words like armor. “And here I thought you were the voice of bad judgment and bad news.”

“Oh, how you wound me.”

His footsteps approached—soft but steady, that same predatory calm he always embodied. I could feel him studying the room, scanning for threats he couldn’t name but always expected.

“I just had a one-on-one with your future wife,” he said, voice flat with undertone. “It was so pleasant, I can’t wait to do it again.”

“Luis—” I warned, my patience already thin.

“I had to talk myself out of throwing her off the roof first,” he muttered, almost like he was confessing a sin.

I scoffed. “You give yourself too much credit. She would’ve tossed you first, even wearing heels, and dusted off her dress after.”

“I know,” he grumbled, dragging a metal chair forward, the legs screeching against the tile. The sound of movement told me he had sat down beside me. A heavy exhale followed as he leaned back like this was just another day at the office.

“Estás hecho un asco.” He had a habit of telling me I looked like a mess, always delivering the insult with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

“Been a long week.”

“I heard.”

I could almost feel him dissecting the damage. He wasn’t only evaluating the bruises or bandages but the fallout from the choices we made back in Buenaventura.

“You gonna lecture me?” I asked finally. “Or just sit there like a disappointed priest?”

Luis huffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. A priest would’ve sprinted out of this family years ago. Now Satan… He might pull up a chair and pour a drink.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I always am,” he said smugly. Then his tone dropped. “I also know she’s had you wrapped around her little finger long before she ever looked at you.”

“I’m not a fool, Luis.”

“No, you’re worse. You’re in love.”

I let out a breath. “Yeah, so?”

“Shekidnappedyou, Gabriel.”