“Whoa—”
Strong hands grip my shoulders, steadying me. Fingers press into my skin with just enough pressure to ground me, to stop me from flying apart completely.
“What happened? What’s going on? Are you alright?”
The voice is familiar—too familiar. Dazed, I blink up through the blur, vision swimming, struggling to focus.
“Gabriel?” I wheeze. My throat feels raw. “What are you doing here?”
He frowns, tension pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I might ask you the same.”
I groan and shove my fists into my eyes. White lights burst behind my eyelids—flashes of pain, memory,truth.
Too much. All at once.
I squeeze my eyes tighter.
Soft palms cradle my face—gentle, trembling—and Gabriel’s voice slips through the chaos, low and steady.
“Alex, mi amor. Relax,” he whispers, thumbs brushing softly against my cheeks. “This is a migraine, sí?”
I collapse into him, letting him carry the weight I can’t hold anymore. His cool hands are a balm against my overheated skin, and I let out a quiet moan at the relief.
Gently, he wipes at the tears I didn’t even realize were falling, the pads of his thumbs moving slowly, tenderly. I force my eyes to stay open, to focus on him.
His five o’clock shadow.
Sharp cheekbones.
Deep-gray eyes, calm, steady, unwavering.
Then he leans in and blows gently across my face… and I breathe.
I inhale the breath he gives me, draw it deep into my lungs.
Again.
And again.
Until I’m breathing with him—becauseof him.
“Noah… Noah’s my b-brother,” I stammer, voice cracking. “And Meera…” I draw in another breath, but it catches in my throat, and I cough.
“Is his sister,” Gabriel finishes gently. “I know. It’s okay, Alex.”
I grip his waist like it’s the only thing keeping me from slipping under, my knuckles white as his hands drift from my face to my arms.
“I just found this out myself,” he adds, his voice like warm velvet against the chaos roaring in my head. “Elijah knows too.”
His hands slide down my arms with agonizing tenderness, every inch a silent vow. When he finds my fingers, he doesn’t just hold them—he claims them, weaving his between mine like a lifeline he knows I need, like a promise not to let me go.
“H-he killed my parents,” I sob, gripping his hands. “Noah’s father… he’s responsible for their plane going down.” I pause. Squeeze my eyes until the tears burn hot behind them, until the pressure hurts more than the truth. “And th-then… he killed him. Noah k-killed his father.”
I tighten my grip on Gabriel’s hands like I’m clinging to the edge of a cliff, my fear pulsing through every knuckle, every breath, begging him not to let me fall.
“I’m not letting you go, chulo,” he murmurs. And I believe him because through everything, he’s the kind of man who holds on, even when everything else comes undone.
With gentle insistence, he guides me further from Noah’s door and presses me lightly against the wall. His body stands between me and the world—solid, steady, unshakable. A barrier. A shield.
