Page 2 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)

Amara

R evelation wasn’t the kind of place one simply stumbled into—it was the kind of place people flocked to when they were dangerously bored or looking to satisfy their kinks.

My girlfriends and I didn’t fall into either category. At least I didn’t think so.

Penelope had been tight-lipped when it came to explaining how she got us an invitation, only mentioning vaguely that she was meeting a “secret admirer” she was determined to lose her virginity to. Naturally, Skye and I tagged along for support. And to ensure this man wasn’t a serial killer.

A velvet-draped corridor swallowed us whole the moment we stepped in, the commotion from the busy street falling away.

Inside, the air was heavy, thick enough to get a sense of the kinds of salacious deeds taking place behind the many closed doors we passed.

Whispers slithered through the space like smoke. The soft clink of crystal glasses and the low thrum of jazz created a rhythm not meant for dancing, but for unraveling. Flickering candles lit the path toward the tables surrounding the dance floor, which was where I planned to stick to.

I scanned the room, watching as people seemed to shift as one, their movements indulgent and intimate. Definitely not the kind of dancing I had any interest in exploring.

Skye Leone stood close, her posture deceptively relaxed. Her arms hung loosely down her body and her dark eyes remained vigilant. Being deaf, she was accustomed to tracking our body language and watching for lip movements. We didn’t need to speak words to communicate. Never had.

Penelope, of course, had already vanished with her mystery man. We didn’t follow, confident Penelope could handle herself. D’Arc made sure of that, teaching all its students self-defense skills.

I, on the other hand, had been trained from a young age by my unconventional family. My parents wanted to ensure I was strong and could survive among the Kingpins of the Syndicate, while my mother Liana wanted me and my adoptive siblings—Jetmir and Elira—to be the strongest in the criminal world.

How did I end up with two mothers?

Well, that’s a long story, but here’s the short version.

After a one-night stand between my birth mother, Emory DiLustro—Las Vegas Kingpin—and my father, Killian Cullen—the Irish Mafia boss—he left her unexpectedly pregnant.

Then, her supposed father, Gio DiLustro, a cruel and ruthless man, found out and ripped me from her life as soon as I was born.

That’s how I ended up deep in the heart of the Tijuana Cartel’s territory.

There, Mother Liana—trapped in her own nightmare, married to Santiago Tijuana—adopted me and saved my life.

She raised me like her own. For years, it was just the two of us, surviving together in the shadows.

Then I got sick. I needed a liver transplant.

And just like that, I popped up on the radar of the two people who gave me life but never had the chance to raise me.

Thankfully, my parents and Mother Liana found common ground and we’ve been able to stay in each other’s lives. It was a perfect happy ending for all of us.

A flicker of movement caught my eye and interrupted my reminiscing.

A man, tall and lean, cut through the crowd like he owned the place. His midnight-black hair, artfully tousled to seem careless though I knew it was intentional, was unmistakable. I’d recognize him anywhere, even under the moody, amber lighting that turned everyone else into silhouettes.

My stepbrother, Jetmir—or just Jet. The name could land like a warning or a dare, depending on the day.

What is he doing here? I thought to myself.

He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the state of Connecticut. Jet and Elira finished their studies in Europe, their Volkov heritage not exactly welcomed in many territories across the East Coast.

And yet, Jet was here, wearing his usual black suit, crisp and tailored, standing out among the crowd with his tall frame and powerful stride. Confidence hung off him like smoke, as did that familiar scent of trouble.

I stood unblinking, seconds dragging, before I turned back to my friend.

“I think I saw someone,” I signed and spoke at the same time, leaning closer to Skye.

She tilted her head, then signed back. “ Who? ”

“Not sure, but I’ll be right back. Will you be okay ? ”

She gestured to an empty booth, a faint smile touching her lips.

“ I’m a big girl. You go ahead. I’ll wait for you and Pen here, ” she signed.

There was no telling how long Penelope would be tangled up with her stranger, but I nodded all the same. This place was crawling with both security cameras and armed guards; she’d be safe here.

I slipped into the crowd, people pressing against one another like shadows melting together. Their perfume, the heat, the quiet moans mingling in the fray… it all clung to me like a second skin.

“Get a grip, freaks,” I muttered under my breath, pushing past a couple who were so entangled I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. They stumbled into me in their frenzy, and I had half a mind to elbow the guy in the ribs, but that would attract attention I didn’t need.

I kept my pace measured as I made a beeline for the side door Jet had disappeared through.

Once the door shut behind me, the music muffled as I pushed through a narrow hallway that ran parallel to the main floor.

The air here was cooler, quieter, but it carried the sharp tang of disinfectant, cigarette smoke, and passion.

A different world from the sticky, alcohol-fueled chaos of the usual clubs in the city.

Unable to find him, I spotted a set of stairs, and an idea struck. If I climbed up, I’d have a bird’s-eye view and could spot him easier. I started to climb the steel staircase, careful not to get my heels stuck in the little holes. I paused, peering around the top of the landing.

And then I spotted him.

Jet stood at the end of the hallway by the exit, the soft glow of the sign throwing shadows on his dangerous frame.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, his face illuminated as he scrolled on his phone. Beside him was a man dressed in a sharp suit that whispered money and style, his face was completely swallowed by shadows.

I leaned forward, squinting my eyes, hoping to catch any details about the stranger, but it was too dark. I cursed my nearsightedness.

Their discussion turned heated, the words bitten out sharply, but I couldn’t make out anything more from this distance.

The man suddenly turned and disappeared down a separate hallway without looking back, his stride angry.

Jet lingered a moment longer, his head tilting up, and surprise flickered across his face. Shit .

Seconds ticked by and I waited with bated breath.

Then he nodded slowly, giving me that familiar, calculated smile as he lifted a hand in a casual wave before slipping through the emergency exit door, a gust of winter air traveling toward me and cooling my skin.

As the door slammed shut behind him, I stood still, my thoughts a mess of unanswered questions. What the hell was he doing here? And what was that smile about?

When the hallway remained empty, I exhaled, pressing the heel of my hand to my chest to steady my breathing.

Making my way back down the stairs, careful that my heels didn’t catch and send me tumbling down, I reached the main floor.

This time, the scent of sandalwood and sharp citrus—a cologne I’d never admit I instantly recognized—enveloped me.

The click of polished leather shoes followed.

Dammit.

“Leaving so soon, preciosa ?”

Gabriel Santos stepped into view like he’d been waiting all along.

I was half tempted to knock him out cold, but I knew better than to let my real self slip.

Especially since he was Anya’s brother. The last thing I needed was my roommates catching even a glimpse of what I was capable of.

That side of me didn’t exactly fit in with late-night study sessions and campus parties.

Not that I feared what they’d do to me. I was more worried for them, because my siblings wouldn’t take kindly to rumors of my friends not accepting me.

“Of course, my personal sweet-talking stalker,” I drawled, rolling my eyes.

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised he was here.

Running into this man seemed to be a constant occurrence from the moment I joined D’Arc.

Of course, he was miles ahead in his studies, already holding a master’s degree and even serving as faculty.

I supposed being the heir to the Santos Cartel, with one foot in academia and the other deep in business, made him an expert in more ways than one.

“Look who’s calling me sweet,” he purred.

I scoffed and crossed my arms. “How convenient that you left out the stalker part.”

He was dressed in a black suit with faint white stripes. It was almost as if he’d walked off a designer runway and straight into a Hollywood crime thriller. A few buttons of his crisp shirt were undone, hinting at a gold chain and darker skin beneath.

The man was undeniably attractive, and it made remaining annoyed with him all the more difficult.

He cocked a brow, and I realized I’d been staring.

I forced myself not to blush and moved to sidestep him when his voice stopped me.

“Didn’t take you for the sneaking-off type,” he said, leaning casually against the opposite wall in a move that blocked my path to the hallway. If I made my escape, I’d be forced to brush past him—to touch him.

“I wasn’t sneaking off.”

“Sure looked like it from where I was standing.” He gave me a once-over, and I instinctively pulled at the hem of my dress. “What are you doing here anyway? Looking to scratch an itch?” he asked, voice low and eyes gleaming with a turbulence that set me on edge.

“Move, Gabriel.”

“Why would I do that?” He pushed off the wall, crowding my space. “You haven’t even said hello. Or complimented my suit. This one’s Versace, if you didn’t know. Colombian-tailored.”

“I’m thrilled for you,” I snapped. “Now get out of my way.”

He chuckled, slow and deep, like I was his favorite part of the evening. “Careful, Amara. You keep looking at me like that and I might think you missed me. You and your siblings are quite something.”

That did it.

I stepped forward, fury crackling through me. Between Jetmir slipping through my fingers and Gabriel— always Gabriel —making his unwanted presence seem like some charming little detour, I was done.

“Firstly, I would sooner miss a wart on my face than you,” I said, voice sharp. “Secondly, Jet and Elira are none of your concern. I’d advise you to watch your tongue or risk losing it.”

He flashed me a full smile, his white teeth gleaming in the low light. “Ahhh, I’m sure a wart would look so cute on you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You’re gross.”

The fact that he didn’t comment on the latter part of my sentence didn’t escape me.

“But you still like me a bit,” he drawled, his smile more shark-like than charming.

“In your dreams,” I bit out, then continued because he wasn’t entirely wrong and I was frustrated.

“You know what, Gabriel? If I had to choose between letting you touch me or joining a convent, I’d start shopping for rosaries.

I’d rather take a vow of eternal celibacy than stand here and listen to you speak for five more seconds. ”

Gabriel blinked and feigned mock-offense. “Ay, Dios mío. You wound me, but I admire your spirit. Very Santa Teresa meets Ice Princess. But you know me and challenges…”

I groaned and shoved past him, resisting the urge to slap the stupid smirk off his face.

“No, I don’t. And I pray that never changes.

” As I rounded the corner, ready to rejoin Skye, I glanced over my shoulder and found him watching me, his expression somber and…

something else I couldn’t decipher. I shook my head and found my resolve, needing to get my point across.

“Besides, I’m not a challenge. I’m a fucking warning. ”