Page 104 of Twisted Truths

We hang up, and I stand there, phone in my hand, staring at the floor.

I’ve dreamed of this since I was a kid. Playing in the NBA, walking into the Garden wearing a jersey with my name on the back, proving I belong there. I’ve bled for that dream.

My eyes drift towards my bedroom again, where I spent hours upon hours as a kid shooting imaginary buzzer-beaters against my wall, pretending the crowd was on their feet and my name was echoing through the rafters.

It was alwaysthedream, but now it’s about more than just me. It’s about giving Franklin a future, making the ones I lost proud, and proving that even through all the darkness, I still made it.

I hear Mum’s voice telling me to chase what sets my soul on fire. It used to be only basketball. Now, there’s a girl who makes my heart race just as fast as when I’m burning down the court.

While I want nothing more than to go back and crawl into bed with a certain gorgeous red head, the smell of coffee has me walking in the opposite direction.

I find Gabriel sitting at the kitchen bench, a notebook spread out in front of him.

He’s drawing. No, mapping. I hover over his shoulder, taking in the sharp lines, angular structures, and clusters of buildings surrounded by what looks like forest and fencing.

The Sunfire Circle property.

“Impressive,” I state, rounding the island to make myself a cup of coffee.

“Thanks. I always wanted to study architecture.” He doesn’t look up, focused on his task.

Leaning up against the bench across from him, I can’t help but ask. “Why did you stay?”

Gabriel’s pencil falters, and he drags his gaze up to meet mine. His expression is hollow—not empty, but tired in a way that goes bone deep. I know, because I feel the same way.

“I thought I could change things from the inside. After Ezekial died, my parents unravelled. My mother went searching for meaning in every book, every ceremony, every line of prophecy she could get her hands on, and my father followed her into it like a man chasing his last thread of hope.”

He swallows hard, the pencil rolling from his fingers onto the table.

“I always believed that if the prophecy child was born … that would be it. Some kind of spiritual rebalance. A sign everything would be okay. I thought it was symbolic, and they would move on. I didn’t know they planned to use the child as some sort of … sacrifice or catalyst. I didn’t know what they were really planning until now.”

The silence stretches between us.

Gabriel runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “If I’d known, I would have burned the place down myself. I am so fucking sorry for getting Zara caught up in all of this. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing for everyone. She needed somewhere she felt safe, and if her child happened to be born at the right time, my parents would get their miracle and go back to being my parents, not these crazy lunatics.”

For a second, I stare at him, watching the regret eat at him from the inside.

“And your brothers?” I ask. “Where do they stand in all this?”

“They don’t know,” he says firmly. “They’ve been raised in it, sure, but they’re not like our parents. They’re just doing what it takes to keep our family together. Like I was.”

I let his words sit for a minute, trying to decide whether I believe him.

For the first time, I really feel for the guy. Gabriel’s not the villain here—not in this part of the story. He’s a product of the same madness we’re trying to protect Franklin from.

Still, sympathy doesn’t stop the clock.

“We’ve got four or five days if we’re lucky,” I say. “And if we’re getting Franklin out of there safely, we’re going to need every second of it.”

Gabriel nods slowly. “Then let’s get to work.”

By the time Hadley wakes,the sun is rising. Her footsteps are soft as she enters, her hair messy, and one of my old T-shirts hanging off her shoulder. She blinks sleep from her eyes and offers me a small, sleepy smile.

“Hey,” she says, her voice rough from sleep.

“Morning,” I say, pushing back my chair and holding my arms out for her to step into. My body instantly relaxes at her touch, and I press my lips to the crook of her neck. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “You didn’t come to bed?”