Page 54 of Gabriel

“I’m fine,” I ground out, rising from my seat. We moved through the restaurant together, the low thrum of music and laughter dimming behind us.

Outside, the air was thick and electric, the city lights painting the sky. The harbor glistened in the distance, quiet and waiting.

My gaze flicked to the dark alley a block from the restaurant. I had studied the area well before I met him tonight—mapping out every street, alley, exit—and I knew that alley would be the best place to carry out my plan.

His hand was still in mine as I led him toward it. He followed without question. Neither one of us spoke, but with every step, a weight pressed heavier on my chest. There’d be no turning back from what I was about to do.

Once we reached the mouth of the alley, he finally broke the silence. “Now what?”

I stopped and turned to face him. My heart thundered in my chest like it was trying to warn him.

His eyes searched mine, waiting, almost as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.

I rose onto my toes—slowly, deliberately—and let my mouth brush against his. His scent overwhelmed me, intoxicating every fiber of my being. As my lips pressed to his, heat rose within me and set my skin on fire.

It was just a whisper of a kiss. Barely there. But it was enough to feel the heat of him, the pull, the history we never had. One second, two seconds… or was it minutes? I wasn’t sure because time slowed and the pulse drummed in my ears violently.

A heaviness settled between my legs just as his breath hitched, caught between surprise and instinct.

He didn’t move or pull away.

His gaze burned as I gripped his forearms, eyes locked on his. He looked at me like I was his woman, but I wasn’t just that. I was the woman who was about to rewrite every line in his story.

There was something fragile and fierce in that gaze. It was the look of a man who understood that whatever came next wasn’t just a choice, but a turning point. A moment carved out of fate and fire.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his lips, my voice softer than it had any right to be, considering what I was about to do.

The tranq’s syringe slid from my sleeve, and I jabbed it into his neck.

He staggered. “Amara?—?”

“I got you,” I said, catching him as he crumpled into me.

Out of the shadows stepped Elira with an attitude twice her size.

She looked at Gabriel slumped against me, then me as she rolled her eyes.

“You should have just gone with the poisonous lipstick,” she said. “Since you were going to be smooching and all.”

“Stop with that stupid poisonous-lipstick crap,” I muttered, shifting his weight. “Help me get him to the boat.”

She grabbed his legs. “You shouldn’t have let him eat. Now we have extra pounds to carry.”

“I’m so sorry for not jabbing him with a needle in the middle of the restaurant,” I said, sarcasm lacing my tone. Guilt snaked up my chest and wrapped around my throat. This feeling was a novelty, and I hated it. “Besides, we can thank Jet. This is his doing, remember?”

“Ah, yes, but Jet didn’t tell you to kiss him,” she pointed out.

“It’s… complicated.”

“I certainly hope you don’t sleep with him because that will make it even more complicated.”

I scoffed. “Are you trying to give me ideas or warn me?”

“Both, I guess.”

We staggered down the dock, Gabriel dead weight between us. I nearly tripped on a broken plank.

“Jesus,” Elira grunted. “What did he eat, cement?”