Page 49 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)

Amara

T he hospital in Vlore felt like a mausoleum when we first tore through the ER doors—cold, sterile, far too quiet for what we were dragging in with us.

Then the chaos erupted.

Kian had driven like a madman through the city, headlights slicing through the dark, his hands white-knuckled on the wheel. The moment we crashed into the emergency bay, the silence shattered.

Voices rose and orders were barked.

The sound of shoes slapping across the linoleum floor signaled incoming doctors and nurses.

The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright—sharp and surgical—cutting through the fog of dust and blood. Gabriel winced, his face contorting with pain as he blinked rapidly, eyes flicking around the room but landing on nothing.

“My eyes are hurting,” he rasped, squinting hard. “I can’t—fuck—I can’t see.”

“Someone dim those fucking lights!” I shouted. “It’s hurting him!”

To my shock, someone actually did. The lights dimmed a fraction. Not much, but enough for Gabriel to stop flinching.

A doctor in navy scrubs materialized, sleeves already rolled up, gloves snapping on. “What do we have?”

“Explosion wound,” Kian answered, cold as ice. “Left shoulder. No exit wound.”

“There was an explosion and he was shielding me and now he can’t see… He says he can’t?—”

“BP dropping,” another nurse shouted. “Seventy over forty and falling—get him to trauma two!”

“Call ophthalmology!” someone else called. “Patient presenting with loss of vision.”

They moved in tandem, like dancers on a stage performing an ominous routine.

Gabriel was lifted from our arms onto a gurney, IVs stabbed into his veins, his vitals shouted down hallways. A nurse tried to push me aside, but I clung to the rail, following along until another nurse blocked my path.

“Amara,” Kian said behind me. “Let them work.”

“He’s bleeding,” I whispered, barely able to hear myself over the panic. “And he can’t see, Kian. What if?—”

“Let them work,” he repeated, my focus on my blood-soaked hands.

My ears rang, the anger still whipped at my chest. How could Jet allow it to come to this?

Gabriel and I were just chess pieces on a board, and he’d been playing us for who knew how long.

And Elira… I inhaled a deep breath, trying not to spiral with fury or risk going on a rampage.

Gabriel’s hoarse voice echoed faintly as they wheeled him away.

“Amara, where are… you…”

“I’m right here!” I tried to follow, but a nurse caught me by the shoulders and pushed me back. “I need to—he can’t see—he needs to know I’m—” God, I just wanted to be there for him. I wanted to fix all the wrongs that he was paying for because of my siblings.

“You’ll just be in the way, miss,” the nurse said, her voice calm but iron-willed.

My heart shattered and I called out, “I’ll wait here, Gabriel. You just hang in there, okay?”

He didn’t have time to answer before the doors to trauma two swung shut, cutting him off.

I stood in the hallway, numb and shaking, trying not to scream or collapse under the weight of everything that had happened.

It was my fault. All of it. I brought Gabriel into harm’s way, playing into Jet’s manipulation. I did an unforgivable thing, and Gabriel—and possibly Anya—were the ones paying for it. How could I have been so stupid and blind when it came to my siblings?

Gabriel couldn’t see and was in surgery because of me. It didn’t matter that I was an unwilling participant to this charade with Jet and Elira, because he’d tried to warn me. But stupidly, I didn’t listen. Instead, I cuffed Gabriel, kept him a prisoner, and treated him horribly.

How could I face Gabriel after all that?

I stood frozen from guilt, heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.

Dust still clung to my skin, and I couldn’t stop shaking, staring at Gabriel’s blood drying in streaks down my arms.

Somewhere in another room, a machine beeped too fast and a child was crying, but it was all background noise.

All I could think about was the repercussions of my actions. I kidnapped Gabriel. Was manipulated by Elira and Jet. Experienced two explosions.

And now Gabriel couldn’t see and Jet had gone missing with Anya again. And Kian?—

Where was Kian?

“Amara.” His voice found me, solid and grounding. “Come with me. You need to get cleaned up.”

I turned toward him like I was surfacing from underwater.

His white shirt was singed at the collar. Blood—Gabriel’s—stained the front of his clothes too. But his face was composed, his expression already calculating. Kian in crisis mode was terrifying.

I followed him down a side corridor and slipped into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Afterwards, we made our way into an empty waiting room with low lighting, the hum of vending machines, and the faint smell of antiseptic and burnt coffee.

“He’s in surgery now,” Kian said. “The shoulder wound didn’t hit any major arteries. He’ll pull through.”

I sagged into the nearest chair, every muscle in my body collapsing under the weight of that one sentence. Relief hit like a wave, and I was dizzy from it. He’d live, and that was the most important thing.

“But his eyes—” I whispered.

“We don’t know yet. It might be temporary.” Kian’s voice was measured, but I heard the undercurrent of concern he wasn’t letting show.

“What was the explosion about?” I asked, terrified to learn the truth. If Jet had set it up, I didn’t think I could ever forgive him.

“It was the Triad.”

Surprise and shock washed over me.

“The Triad? What do they have to do with any of this?” I breathed. “I don’t understand. Did Jet get involved with them?”

Kian’s expression darkened. “I think it was revenge aimed at me.”

“And Jet?”

He shook his head. “The explosion had nothing to do with him.”

“So where are they?” My voice cracked. “Did the Triad take them?”

“My intel points to no,” he gritted. “Jet knows this area as well as me, he knows exactly how and where to move to avoid detection. We lost their trail five miles from the house.”

“But why run if he had nothing to do with this explosion?” I questioned.

He paused. “It’s hard to understand Jet’s motives. All I can hope is that he took Anya somewhere safe.”

“But that won’t matter to Raphael Santos, will it?” I said. “His brother’s been hurt. His daughter’s been kidnapped. On your turf.”

Kian didn’t answer immediately.

He crossed the waiting room, hands clenched behind his back. His jaw flexed, his eyes flicking toward the clock like he could feel time running out.

“He’s en route,” he said finally. “Private jet. He’ll be here in less than six hours.”

My stomach dropped.

“Jesus.”

“I gave the Santos family my word, Amara. They brought Anya here on my promise of safety. And now?” He stopped pacing and turned to face me fully. “Now the heir to their empire is in surgery, and their daughter is missing because a member of my family took her.”

I flinched at the emphasis. He considered Jet his family, therefore Jet’s actions reflected on Kian. On all of us, really.

“They’ll see it as betrayal,” he continued. “An act of war. I don’t need to tell you what happens if this spirals.”

“No,” I said quietly. “You don’t.”

Kian took a step closer.

“I can’t undo what’s already happened.” He glanced at the hallway, then back at me. “But I can offer something that buys us time and maybe even peace.”

My brows knitted. “What?”

He was watching me like he thought I’d understand before he even said it, but I didn’t. Not really.

“You’re going to marry him,” Kian said, and my breath caught. “You’re going to marry Gabriel Santos.”

I stared at him, trying to find the words.

“Have you lost your mind?” I hissed. “Have you forgotten the man has been blinded by what my siblings and I did? There’s no scenario in which he could possibly forgive me.”

“He will.” It wasn’t often that Kian was wrong, but in this instance, he was dead wrong. I knew his conviction was misplaced because I was his granddaughter, but he couldn’t possibly be that delusional. “There’s no other reason a man holds an interest in a woman for years other than true love.”

I scoffed. “Maybe, but I’m pretty sure whatever affection Gabriel held for me will be squashed by the events of the past twenty-four hours.

As it should. So forgive me for saying this, but there’s no fucking way I’ll propose marriage to him now just to save our own skin.

If he and his family want revenge, they’re well within their rights.

And I sure as hell won’t be trying to save my own skin—or Elira’s and Jet’s. ”

“Amara, listen to me. When Raphael gets here, he’ll want blood.

But if he walks in and sees that Gabriel is being cared for by his fiancée and that there’s already a formal alliance in place between the Santos family and our own…

Well, that changes the narrative. It’s no longer betrayal and instead makes it family business.

Something that can be handled without a war. ”

“But, Kian—” My voice broke. “He’s in surgery. How can you even suggest something like that?”

“Because I love you,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I want to protect our family. Gabriel can settle his score with Jet and Elira but not kill them. And you… you’ll ensure alliance between our families.”

“What if he doesn’t agree? He’s lost his sight because of my and Jet’s manipulation…”

“Yes, there were many mistakes made,” he said gently, surprisingly so. “But right now, peace is what matters the most. Jet and Anya need time, and I have to believe they will work out. After all, that girl married him with a big smile on her face.”

“She did?”

Kian nodded. “They need time. We need time. You and Gabriel can give us all that.”

I sank into the chair, heart racing again for a completely different reason. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to protect Jet and Anya and our family. Or that I didn’t want Gabriel.

It was that I didn’t know if Gabriel felt the same, and he deserved more than this, especially if his injuries turned out to be permanent. He didn’t deserve a future that was about to be rewritten by politics.

“I’ll do it,” I finally said softly, my voice barely more than a breath. “But only if it’s what Gabriel wants. I’m not forcing him, and neither will you.”

Kian nodded once. “Good. We’ve got six hours.”

And then he walked out, leaving me to sit there in shock, waiting to tell a man who might never see again that I wanted to marry him.

If he would have me.