Page 28 of The Beast

“You asshole,” Harper sobs into his chest, her fists useless against the muscles in his back. “You absolute asshole. Five years, Lyon. For five fucking years I thought you were dead.”

“I was.” His voice cracks. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry doesn’t cover it. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to bring you back from the dead just so I can kill you myself.”

He laughs—an actual laugh, broken and rusty like he’s forgotten how—and holds her tighter.

And I stand there, watching, as the hollow ache of misery and longing spreads through my chest.

This is exactly what I’ve been wanting. Gabe, alive and reunited with the people who love him. His frozen armor finally cracking.

But it’s not cracking for me.

His eyes open, finding me over Harper’s shoulder. And just like that, the ice is back. The warmth disappears like it was never there. His expression goes flat. Closed tight.

He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to.

Harper pulls back from him, her gaze sweeping over me. Her face falls. “Oh, Bella.”

“Stay,” I say, forcing a smile that feels like broken glass. “Catch up. You two have five years to cover.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not going to just leave you out here.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” We both know I’m not, but Harper hasn’t seen Gabriel in five years, either, and she deserves this moment. “I’ll wait in the lobby. Take your time.”

She hesitates, clearly torn. Gabriel’s hand is still on her shoulder, but his eyes are on me—flat and unreadable.

“Go,” I tell her. “Really. Shoo.” Then I turn and walk away before she can argue.

I make it to the hallway before I hear footsteps behind me. “Isabella. Wait.”

It’s Anissa, her heels clicking against the tile as she catches up.

Something snaps inside me. I whirl around, tears streaming down my face, five years of grief and one night of accusations boiling over.

“What? You want to tell me he hates me, too? That I’m a murderer? That I don’t deserve to breathe the same air as him?”

My voice cracks, but I don’t care. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t try to kill him. I love him. I’ve loved him forever, and I spent five years thinking he was dead. Five years with my heart ripped out. Five years of lighting candles on his birthday, unable to let anyone touch me because I was still in love with a ghost.”

Anissa stands frozen, her expression shifting from guarded to something else. Surprise, maybe.

“You want to talk about pain?” I’m shaking now. “He got to be angry. He got to plan his revenge and build his little empire down here.

“What did I get? I got to grieve. I got to fall apart. I got to watch everyone move on while I stayed frozen in the moment without a single goddamn answer.” I wipe my cheeks and sniffle. “So don’t follow me out here to defend him. Because, I swear, I can’t take any more.”

There’s a long silence as she studies me, her head tilted slightly. She stays like that for so long that I finally scoff and start walking again.

“Bella.”

I stop, then turn back to her, my shoulders dropping with exhaustion. “What now?”

“You’re not what I expected.”

“Sorry.” I cross my arms. “I left my horns and pitchfork back at the Monarch.”

She starts to say something, bites her lip, then starts again. “I don’t know what happened at the cabin,” she says, her voice so soft I have to step closer. “But he recovered at my dad’s place.”

“Oh.” For some reason, that hits me hard. “I didn’t know that.”