“Fuck you.” I twist beneath his arm, but he adjusts his stance, using his body weight to keep me in place without triggering my claustrophobia.
The purr deepens, resonating through me. Despite my fury, my body responds to the sound, muscles loosening. The biological response infuriates me further, but each breath fills my lungs with his scent, and the fight begins to drain from my limbs.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, pressure easing as he senses the change. “Just breathe.”
“I’m not your—” My chest heaves as I struggle to force the words out.
“Youaremine,” he counters, his purr softening but not stopping. “And I need you to calm down, at least until we can get out of here and regroup.”
An unwanted pulse of warmth travels through me, and I let my head fall back against the wall, eyes closing as I focus on regulating my breathing. The adrenaline from confronting Darrow begins to ebb, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Gabriel maintains contact, his forearm across my chest now more support than restraint. “Tell me what happened.”
Haltingly, I recount my conversation with Darrow, leaving out the details about my past but telling Gabriel he had information about my time with Micah in the group home, in case it helps keep Micah safe. The rest of it, only I need to know.
He pulls his phone from his pocket with his free hand, keeping me gently pinned as he makes a call. “Sebastian, we had a confirmed visual on Darrow at Foundation. Direct approach, photo documentation, explicit threat to our mates.”
He pauses, listening. “Yes, all of them if we don’t back off.”
The conversation snaps me back to full awareness, and I push Gabriel’s arm. This time, he lets me go, stepping back to give me space while continuing his conversation.
“Full protection detail for everyone,” he says, turning away from me. “And send a cleaner to Hector Diaz’s house. Wipe anything that could link him back to us.”
I sag against the wall, a sense of helplessness swelling inside me.
Gabriel paces as he speaks. “Put the manor on lockdown. Limit staff to only those who are loyal.”
Another pause. “No, I’m with Saint. He’s…fine.”
The hesitation draws my attention, and I study the tension in Gabriel’s jaw, the way his free hand flexes at his side. Despite his calm demeanor, he’s as keyed up as I am, but hiding it better.
He hangs up and turns to me. “So, do you want to talk to your manager? Or do you want to leave? Your choice.”
I turn toward my manager’s door, picture the fallout for escalating to violence, and turn away. “Fuck that shit. We’re out of here.”
I stride for the security staff room to grab my jacket.
If the manager fires me for leaving, so be it. I can’t stay here a second longer.
Not with this pressure building under my skin, demanding a release.
10
As Gabriel drives us away from Foundation, my hands shake on my thighs, fingers twitching with leftover adrenaline that has nowhere to go.
The city lights blur past the windows, neon and streetlight streaking together until my eyes ache. Focus slips through my fingers. Thought fractures. My limbs drag as if weighed down, my awareness hovering a step behind my body, and the sensation only amplifies the building pressure within me.
Gabriel keeps both hands on the wheel as he assesses my mental state from the corner of his eye. “You hungry? We could stop somewhere.”
The simple question hangs between us. I shouldanswer. Should say something. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The words tangle together, caught behind the knot of rage and fear that Darrow planted there.
“Saint?” Gabriel tries again, softer this time. “Food?”
My stomach twists at the mention of food, and I swallow the rising nausea. “Not hungry.”
Gabriel accepts this without pushing further. His body language stays open, non-threatening, shoulders relaxed, hands loose on the wheel despite the tension crackling between us. “You should rest when we get back. It’s been a long two days.”
A laugh bursts from me, harsh in the confined space. Rest. As if sleep could come with Tony’s threat hanging over Micah. Over all of the Rockford mates.
