Page 52 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)

Gabriel

T he first thing I felt was pain.

It wasn’t sharp and immediate, but more like heavy and shapeless. Almost as if my entire body were covered in one large bruise.

My chest throbbed, every breath scraping against the inside of my ribs like broken glass. There was a tightness around my eyes, strange and wrong, like something was pressing down behind them.

What the fuck happened? I thought to myself, but then the memories came rushing in. The explosion. Amara screaming my name, Kian instructing me to stay awake as I went in and out of consciousness, unable to see anything around me.

My fingers twitched against stiff sheets. My hands moved, searching, confused—reaching for something or someone. But there was only the weightless press of a blanket, and the sharp, sterile tang of antiseptic thick in the air. Underneath it, the scent of latex and burned fabric.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Nothing.

There were no shadows, no color. No light bleeding through closed lids. Just black. Not even that, really. Just nothing.

I reached up to my face and brushed against a gauze.

My heart kicked against my ribs like it was trying to break free. I tried to breathe, counting in my head to keep the panic from swallowing me whole.

One… two…

“He’s awake,” said a male voice I would recognize anywhere.

What the hell was Raphael doing here?

Had I died and not gotten the memo? If so, and this was the afterlife, then Dios santo, I needed a tour guide and a complaint sheet. I was too young for that shit.

Maybe I was hallucinating.

“Gabriel?” That voice was more like sandpaper against silk. Elira. Fuck, I had to be alive, because there was no way the two of us would be in the afterlife together if I was dead. “Amara, he’s awake,” she said, louder this time.

The room held its breath—so did I—as I heard the door click shut, then a shuffle of feet.

“Gabriel.” Her voice cracked slightly on my name. “It’s me, Amara.”

The warmth was familiar as her hand slipped into mine, her fingers curling gently around my own like they’d always belonged there. She squeezed, not too tight, just enough to ground me.

I turned my face toward her voice, chasing it like a lifeline in the dark. My eyelids fluttered, instinct taking over, but my bandage made it impossible to open my eyes. I reached up, ripping it off.

“Gabriel,” she protested. “What are you doing?”

“I need to see if…”

I couldn’t even finish the fucking statement. I blinked once, twice, then stared—hard—willing something to come into focus.

Nothing .

“I… I can’t see,” I rasped. “I can’t see you.”

My throat caught around the words. The air felt colder all of a sudden, despite her hand still wrapped around mine. The silence that followed was heavy with things neither of us wanted to speak yet.

I felt her breath hitch, but she didn’t let go. She didn’t say it was going to be okay. She just held on.

And somehow, that told me everything.

“Why can’t I see you, Amara?”

She was quiet again, and this time, the silence dragged. I heard her shift, the faint creak of the chair, the brush of fabric. I imagined her staring at my eyes, at the bandages or whatever they’d done to me. I imagined her trying to find the right words and failing.

Then she exhaled slowly, like the words had been trapped behind her ribs too.

“There was shrapnel,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I could feel her heat, and I realized she was putting the bandage back over my eyes.

“When the explosion went off… Most of it hit your shoulder, but a piece—maybe more—hit near your eyes. The surgeons did everything they could and now we just have to wait.”

My stomach turned. “Did everything,” I echoed hollowly. “That means it wasn’t enough.”

She hesitated. “No, it means the optic nerve needs time to heal. Once it does, we’ll know more.”

“So they think it might be permanent?”

She sighed. “They really don’t know.”

“I might never see your face again,” I whispered, struggling with the truth. There’d be no more smiles to memorize. No light. No color. Just black. “How long have I been like this?”

“Four days,” she murmured. “You’ve been in and out. They kept you sedated because of the pain and the risk of swelling. Your shoulder healed up nicely, and your eyes?—”

She faltered while a thousand questions swirled behind my teeth, but none of them made it out. I just lay there, frozen, letting the silence consume me.

“You’re alive, Gabriel. That’s the most important thing. Your vision will return. I really believe that, and you must too.”

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to agree. I really did.

But all I could think about was how I’d never see her again.

She squeezed my hand again, tighter this time. “Remember how you told me you always focus on the positives?” she said softly. “I’m asking you… begging you, please focus on the positives and we’ll get through this together.”

“Together?” I repeated.

There was no hesitation from her. “Yes, together.”

“Who else is here?” I asked, my voice scraping out of my throat. “I thought I heard my brother’s voice… Raphael?”

She stilled and her fingers twitched slightly around mine. “Yes, Raphael and Sailor are here. Kian too. And… others.”

I turned my head, the motion slow and uncertain. “They’re in the room right now?”

“No, they’re right outside, in the hallway. Want me to call them in?”

I hesitated, not sure how I felt about being seen like this. I still had to process everything and come to terms with being seen as weak, being seen as a… target.

“No, not yet.”

A beat of silence fell between us. The air seemed to shift again, charged now with a question I didn’t want to ask but needed to.

I swallowed the taste of hospital air, metallic on my tongue. “And Anya?”

Silence stretched, and it was almost as if her answer was lodged in her throat and holding my hand was the only thing keeping it from breaking loose and spilling.

I didn’t need her to speak to feel the change. The tension bled from her skin into mine, like ink in water.

And in that silence, I already knew. Anya wasn’t here.

“She and Jet disappeared,” Amara whispered. “They’re safe. Kian followed them, but Jet keeps evading him. Unfortunately, my brother knows this area really well.” I could hear a gulp echo between us. “I’m sure she’s safe.”

I let out a sardonic breath, the sound bitter in my throat. “I guess it depends on whether Jet set up that explosion or not.”

“He didn’t.”

Her answer hit like a punch to the ribs. Relief came fast, hard, and unexpected. My whole chest trembled as I exhaled. I hadn’t realized how much I was bracing for confirmation.

“The Triad was behind it, but none of us seem to know who they were after or why,” she continued. “Honestly, it’s probably for the best that they disappeared.”

I turned my head slightly, trying to focus on the direction of her voice, even if my eyes still gave me nothing.

“I’m not sure I agree,” I said quietly. “We don’t know if Anya’s with him willingly or not.”

Although deep down I suspected.

Even in the haze of memory, I could still picture my sister standing in her silky pajamas in the villa, her eyes shimmering and locked on Jet. I had to admit she didn’t look like a hostage. She looked like a woman in love.

And God help me, I didn’t know if that was better or worse than believing Jet had taken her by force.

There was no immediate answer, but I heard Amara scoot closer. Her scent followed the motion: something familiar, tinged with citrus and salt, like she’d just stepped out of the ocean.

“I think we both know she isn’t a hostage, Gabriel.” She let out a long sigh. “And that I owe you a massive apology.”

The room fell into silence.

“I was so fucking stupid and blind,” she continued.

“I played right into Jet’s and Elira’s schemes instead of listening to my gut and you.

I knew something was off, and yet I stubbornly clung to my conviction that they wouldn’t betray me.

Or maybe I hoped, and now my blindness… Dammit, that’s the wrong word. ”

“Yeah, not the best one,” I agreed, letting out a sardonic breath.

“I’m so sorry, Gabriel.” Amara’s voice cracked.

“I wish it was me who got hurt, not you. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I never followed Jet’s vague instructions, and instead listened to my gut.

And most of all, I’m sorry for not trusting you, the man who’d always waited patiently in the shadows. I fucked up majorly.”

“You did.” There was no sense in sugarcoating it. “And you should have trusted me over your siblings, but living on regrets is pointless and we cannot go back into the past.”

“I know, and if I were in your place, I’d want to murder me and my siblings.”

“I could never hurt you, Amara. Your siblings, on the other hand… I could choke the life out of them and never miss a beat.”

Her inhale echoed in the silence of the room. “You might want to include me in that statement once you hear my next words.”

I tensed, unsure where those words would lead. When she remained quiet, I prompted, “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Give me a moment,” she muttered. “It might be the last time you talk to me?—”

“That bad, huh?” I let out a sardonic breath. “Better spit it out, Amara, before I conjure shit in my head. Trust me, it isn’t the best place right now.”

“God, you might hate me after this.” Her words sent unease down my spine, and I readied for the worst, whatever that might be. “Fuck, I’m so sorry to do this after how much I hurt you.”

“Amara, just spit it out,” I spat. “The suspense is killing me, and I’m not in the best shape as it is.”

She cleared her throat, and I could practically feel the tension rolling off her and permeating the air.

“How do you feel about… marriage?”

I hesitated, then asked, “Can you elaborate, so we’re on the same page? Who exactly would I be marrying?”

She paused.