Page 46 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)

Amara

T onight we’d set foot on Albanian soil, four weeks after setting sail from Buenaventura.

Gabriel had been attempting to call Anya for the past twenty-four hours, without any success.

We sat across from each other at the breakfast table, the morning light filtering through the half-closed blinds and casting thin stripes across his face. Elira hovered nearby but kept her distance, her eyes darting nervously between us, avoiding any direct contact.

Her betrayal and the discovery over the past twenty-four hours of her conspiring with Jet was hard to swallow, although her loyalty to our brother should hardly be surprising. It didn’t hurt any less though.

She finally spoke up, her voice hesitant. “He tried to reason with you at Revelation, remember?”

My brows knitted. “With me?”

She shook her head. “No, with Gabriel.”

I repeated her words twice before realization dawned. My mouth gaped in shock. It was Gabriel who’d met Jet that night by the emergency exit in the club. Dammit, why hadn’t I recognized him? That explained why I’d run into him by the stairwell not long after Jet had disappeared into the night.

“Jet wanted to make a deal, using my affection for Amara in exchange for Anya,” Gabriel gritted. “I don’t do that kind of shit. I would never force anything on either my sister or Amara.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have come to this if you’d have at least considered it,” Elira snapped.

“Do you hear yourself, Elira?” I hissed. “How can you possibly excuse Jet in all this? All this time you’ve claimed to be protecting me, keeping men you deem dangerous away, and now I’m learning you were both okay with using me as a bargaining chip?”

She sighed. “I’m not making excuses.”

Gabriel’s jaw was tight, his fingers wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug, untouched coffee gone cold.

Ignoring my sister, he dialed Anya again. Beep. Beep. Beep .

There was no answer, and the silence that stretched between us was thick, layered with tension. Next, he tried the guards that Raphael Santos placed at the house she was staying at. Still nothing.

The engine thrummed beneath us, a steady reminder that we were moving toward something—maybe resolution, maybe disaster.

“She always answers,” he said, mostly to himself.

“She could be busy,” I offered, though I didn’t believe it. If Anya had seen Gabriel’s name flashing on her screen, she would’ve answered. Something was wrong.

“What could she be busy with? She’s in Albania doing photography, not performing surgeries.” He looked up at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Jet might have?—”

“He would never hurt her,” Elira cut in, glaring at him.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I agree, that’s not Jet.”

“He’s hurt you,” Gabriel reasoned. “Lied to you and manipulated you. You want me to believe that he doesn’t hurt people?”

I nodded slowly. “He was wrong in all those instances, but I can assure you he would never physically hurt her.”

“How comforting, thanks,” Gabriel sneered.

“The captain says we’ll dock after sunset. He knows a smaller harbor outside the main port. Quiet. We’ll manage to stay somewhat under the radar there.”

Gabriel glanced at her. “Is that another one of Jet’s arrangements?”

Elira didn’t flinch. “No, although I’m sure if he had any input, it would have been because it’s the safest way to get into Albania undetected.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Clearly you underestimate Kian Cortes, which is, frankly, clearly stupid on your part.”

I stood up, crossing to the window, and watched as Vlore’s lights began to appear in the distance—rugged, green, and cloaked in shadows.

This was Kian’s safe haven, and we were about to bring havoc to it. If he learned about it, he was sure to be pissed off.

“Maybe we should call Kian?” I suggested. “He would be able to confirm that Anya is safe, as well as Jet.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “Kian raised Jet and Elira, and despite their stupidity, I cannot fathom that he would make Anya his priority.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it, Gabriel. Kian is family.” I paused. “And if Anya is on the property bordering his, and he vowed protection, then I’m sure that she’s safe. Even from Jet’s plans.”

“She’s not his blood.”

“Neither are Jet and Elira, yet he protects them.”

“We should hold off on Kian,” Elira chimed in nervously. “If our parents learn we’ve been lying for weeks?—”

I let out a sigh. It’d crossed my mind too, although if it came to Anya’s safety versus our parents being pissed off, I’d pick the former. What could our parents do? We were grown-ass adults.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little timeout, Elira,” Gabriel said sarcastically.

My sister rolled her eyes. “No, I’m not, but I don’t want my mother to trust me less and take on more. She’s supposed to retire, not work her ass off until the day she keels over.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, pleading for help and forgiveness, and my shoulders slumped. I couldn’t say no to her.

“Can we wait until we get to Anya? Maybe we can avoid unnecessary confrontations?”

Gabriel stood, tension radiating from him. “And if Jet’s already gotten to her? Or kidnapped her?”

“Then we either stop him or go after them.”

He held my gaze, that unspoken thread between us tightening. “Together?”

I nodded, glancing at Elira, who gave me a barely noticeable nod.

“Together,” I echoed.

We stood in silence as the yacht slowed, the coastline rising to meet us like a warning.

The crew finally dropped the yacht’s anchor, the sea around us inky black and deceptively still. The air smelled of brine and distant pines, which were at once familiar, unsettling, and beautiful. We were all dressed in black, wearing combat boots and armed to the teeth.

Elira stepped on the ladder that led down to the dinghy when I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Not you,” I said firmly.

Her eyebrows met her hairline. “What do you mean not me ?”

“I mean, you’re not coming along. I’m not risking you ganging up with Jet and endangering Anya or turning against me.”

Her mask cracked, her pained expression staring back at me. “I would never hurt you, Amara.”

“You already did,” I stated coldly. “Both you and Jet. So forgive me for not believing you.”

She squared her shoulders, her hair swinging in the breeze. “You can’t stop me from going. If you don’t want me, then I’ll be there to ensure you don’t hurt my twin.”

“I would never hurt Jet,” I hissed. “Or you. And I would have never used either one of you to get what I want. Unlike you two.”

Elira opened her mouth, ready to argue, when Gabriel stepped in. “Elira, I vow that if Jet hasn’t hurt Anya, he has nothing to fear. But if you want to repair this relationship, it’s time to do the right thing and stand with your sister.”

She tilted her head, watching him with an unreadable expression. “And what’s the right thing to do, Santos?”

“Earn your sister’s trust and prove to her that you do care for her,” he said somberly. “Stay on the yacht and don’t tell Jet that we’re coming.”

“Fine, but only because I love Amara and I am sorry for my part in this. However small,” she hissed, her shoulders slumping. “Besides, I suspect my brother probably already knows considering he gave us the coordinates.”

She stepped aside, standing tall and proud on the deck, and for a moment, I felt my chest constrict. I didn’t like this. I detested this wedge that Jet had put between us.

“I do love you, sis,” she said quietly as I stepped forward.

I glanced at her, pausing my descent, and locked eyes with her. “I love you too.”

Then I continued down, taking a seat in the dinghy.

Gabriel was right behind me. We slipped ashore with nothing but our shared urgency and the unspoken weight of what was to come.

There was no real plan, just instinct, dread, and the kind of suffocating uncertainty that curled like smoke in my lungs.

Gabriel and I moved on foot, our boots crunching against the gravel path that curved up the hillside.

We were deep in his shadow now, figuratively and literally.

The path twisted and climbed, hemmed in by old cypress trees and stone walls laced with creeping ivy. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, and the sound echoed through the night like a warning.

Gabriel tried to dial Anya again.

“She always answers,” he muttered for the hundredth time, his voice threaded with barely restrained panic.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat was too tight with the same fear, the same ugly pressure building in my chest. I wanted to believe Anya was fine. I had to believe that. But her silence stretched out like a blade. Too long. Too sharp.

I knew Jet wouldn’t hurt her, that much I was certain of. But if we were talking obsession? That clouded people’s judgment. And infatuation? It had teeth. Jet had never been denied anything he wanted, and right now, he wanted her.

We reached the top of the hill, the air cooler now. The house came into view, a modern villa with windows on all sides, its terracotta roof and pale stone walls glowing faintly in the moonlight. It was beautiful. Too peaceful for what waited inside.

I could see golden light spilling from the front windows. Curtains drawn but not tight enough to conceal the movement of shadows behind them.

The house didn’t look like a battleground. It looked like a safe haven. The kind of place I could picture Anya reading on the patio with lemon tea, her camera handy.

A car was parked just off to the side. “Is that hers?”

“No.”

I stopped, grabbing Gabriel’s arm, heart knocking against my ribs.

“This is her house,” I whispered.

He nodded once, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching. He didn’t say a word, just kept moving forward like he was being pulled by something he couldn’t resist.

We approached the wrought-iron gate in silence. The garden beyond it was quiet. No cicadas, no breeze. Just the muffled beat of my heart in my ears.

I reached for the buzzer, my hand trembling as it hovered above the button. My breath caught in my throat.

“Amara,” Gabriel said, turning to face me. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”

His words pressed against something soft and raw inside me. I nodded once, exhaled slowly, and pressed the buzzer.

We waited until we heard footsteps. They were measured, unhurried, and deliberate.

The front door creaked open, and in all his glory, Jet appeared in front of us.

He leaned against the frame with a practiced kind of nonchalance. He’d been waiting for us.

His hair was a mess, pushed back like he’d just raked his hand through it. His signature three-piece suit was gone, replaced with dark jeans and a slate-gray shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing forearms inked with symbols.

His arms were crossed. His expression was smug. And his mouth was curved in that trademark half-smile I’d known since we were kids. It was the very same one that meant he was up to something and it was already too late to stop him.

“Welcome to Albania,” he drawled. “Took you long enough.”

I blinked. “What the hell are you doing here, Jet?”

“I gave you the coordinates, didn’t I?” He cocked a brow. “I’m protecting what’s mine.”

Gabriel moved before I could stop him.

His fist shot through the air and connected with Jet’s cheekbone in a sickening crack. Jet’s head snapped to the side, but he didn’t stumble. He just lifted one hand, wiped at the corner of his mouth, and smiled up at us.

“Where is my sister?” Gabriel roared.

“She’s safe,” Jet said smoothly.

“ Where , you piece of shit?”

Jet tilted his head, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “My wife’s resting inside, so if you don’t mind?—”

My blood turned to ice.

“Your what ?” I choked out.

Jet turned toward me fully now, grin widening. “My wife.”

Gabriel’s next punch was a blur. He surged forward, tackling Jet across the threshold and slamming him to the floor with a grunt. I gasped as both men hit the tile, rolling into the entryway like a pair of wolves.

Fists flew in a wild, brutal, bone-shaking way.

“Stop it!” I hissed. “Stop, both of you!”

They didn’t listen.

Jet landed a hit to Gabriel’s jaw. Gabriel responded with a punch to Jet’s nose that sprayed blood across the white marble.

They were going to kill each other.

I dove in, grabbing both of their shirts and yanking as hard as I could. I might as well have tried to stop a landslide with my bare hands.

“Enough!” I shouted. “Gabriel, we need him to explain!”

“He’ll explain from the grave,” he snarled.

Jet spat blood onto the floor, then laughed, low and savage. “Not if I put you there first.”

They lunged again, but this time, I shoved myself between them, using every ounce of force I had to separate them.

“Listen to me!” I snapped. “If Anya is in this house, then none of us are going anywhere until I see her and we get some goddamn answers!”

Jet’s chest heaved. Gabriel’s eyes were wild. But slowly, reluctantly, they both pulled back. Just as I thought we were in the clear, Jet shoved Gabriel against the wall, hard enough to rattle the windows, and pulled out a gun.

He pressed it against Gabriel’s temple.

“Don’t you fucking dare take her away from me. She’s my wife and I want?—”

“I don’t give a shit about what you want,” Gabriel growled, his own gun now pressed against Jet’s temple.

“What’s wrong with you two?” I hissed, my heart beating. “I have half a mind to shoot you both myself. You’re lucky I love you both.”

I broke off suddenly. Had I really spoken those words out loud?

I just said I love Gabriel Santos .

Before I could dwell on it, somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open and a familiar soft voice called out, “Amara?”