"I’m not going back. You can’t make me," I say, and I’m almost never this firm, but this is that moment.
Three of Blue’s bodyguards stand nearby, staring at us, their eyebrows raised in clear amusement.
I clench my jaw and lock eyes with the cop.
Right then, Blue Lowen appears in the half-open doorway, his face calm, giving nothing away.
"I wanted to talk to you one on one, without all these people around," he says in an even tone.
I shoot him a quick look, then turn my eyes back to the cop.
"I’m not interested in talking, I want to go back to my booth," I say, my voice a little too high.
Silence settles, the guards say nothing, the cop says nothing, his grip tightens on my arm, and Blue doesn’t speak either.
"Please, just take me back to that damn booth!" I repeat through clenched teeth.
"I believe you, Gabriel."
The words cut through the scene, and at first they don’t even land, just pass right by me until he says it again.
"I believe every word you said."
Slowly, I look back at him. He believes me?
His small, perfect face hasn’t changed, still composed, his eyes slightly narrowed, fixed on me.
"Can we talk for five minutes? Just that."
Storm steps up to the door, opens it wider, slips past Blue, that knowing smirk already forming.
"I’ll leave you the office. Mr. Gessler, come with me, let them talk in peace."
I should resist, I should get out of here, I don’t want anything from this man, but the cop’s hand pushes me forward, and I don’t really fight it, I hesitate at the threshold, then give in and step into the now empty office, brushing past Blue.
The height difference between us is ridiculous, my six-six to his five-two or three.
I can’t pick up any scent from him beyond faint, neutral cosmetics, maybe a hint of eucalyptus, something lavender-like,probably he uses blockers, or perhaps he has no scent at all. I’ve heard things about his accident, about losing more than just part of his reproductive system.
I drop into my chair and stare at my cuffed hands, the sight still doesn’t feel real, it doesn’t fit me.
Blue returns to the couch, sits down, crosses one leg over the other, lacing his slender fingers together.
"Why did you run?"
I stay silent.
"Is it that hard for you to be in the same room with me, do you hate me that much?" he says, his tone almost mocking, like the idea itself amuses him.
"Shame," I admit finally, "it’s a lot easier to act when you don’t have to face the person you hurt."
"Shame," Blue repeats thoughtfully. "That’s a rare word these days, Gabriel."
My name in his mouth sounds strange, almost like a ringing, and it makes me snap my head up. It’s the second time he uses it. An odd feeling. Kinda pleasant?
"People want to be excused and justified for everything, Fate forbid anyone points out their fault. No one feels guilty anymore, no matter what they’ve done, there’s always an excuse. They don’t realize that guilt carries an important lesson."
"Believe me, I get it, and I learned it," I say gloomily.
