Page 134 of Gabriel

“I let her,” I reminded him.

Luis scoffed. “Jesus Christ.”

“No. Just me. Making decisions you don’t like.”

I leaned back into the pillows, feeling the pain settle in my bones like concrete.

“I know you’ve been burned,” I said quietly. “I know you don’t trust easily, especially not women who don’t play by the rules. But Amara… She’s not what you’re afraid of. She’s not pretending to be something she’s not. She’s raw. She’s fire. She owns her mistakes, even when they cost her.”

“She’s chaos,” he muttered.

“And I’m not,” I said. “That’s why it works.”

“Are you really marrying her?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

“I see.”

“It would mean a lot if you and she could find a way to get along.”

He didn’t respond right away. I knew him—he was running the calculations, measuring every angle, every risk. Luis didn’t offer loyalty lightly, even to me.

“And if we don’t?” he asked finally.

“I’m going to choose her,” I said. “No matter what, I’ll always choose her.”

Luis exhaled slowly, like he was exorcising something heavy and bitter from his chest.

After a long beat, he said, “You always did have a soft spot for trouble.”

“That’s why I made you my right hand,” I shot back.

He snorted.

“Touché.” A pause followed before he continued. “I’ll stick around. Watch your back. Watch hers too. But if she sings at me, I’m walking into traffic.”

That made me laugh—really laugh—for the first time since he walked into the room.

“Noted,” I said, still grinning. “No singing near Luis.”

We both chuckled, and the weight on my chest felt a little lighter. Not gone. But bearable.

And in this world, that was enough.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A steady beeping and the scent of disinfectant and something else dominated my senses.

I tensed, a creeping sense overwhelming me, and my sixth sense flared. There was someone in the room.

“Who’s there?” I called out, frustrated at this vulnerability.

There was no immediate answer, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. I didn’t relax, my hand wrapping around the knife I had placed next to me.

I waited, my grip tightening around the knife, and I didn’t have to wait long.

“Santos.”