Page 50 of The Beast

“What?” I say, taking a step toward him. “What did she do?”

“Looked me in the eyes and destroyed me,” he says. “The bullets she fired after were just an epilogue.”

“Dammit, Gabe, I didn’t.” Unwelcome tears clog my throat. “And damn you to hell for not knowing that in your heart.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “I loved you so much. So damn much. I would have given my life for you. I never expected you to take it. Surprise, he says, holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers. “Turns out my heart was wrong about a lot of things.”

I just stand there shaking my head, wondering what freakish dimension I’ve crossed into. Before Aspen, I could never have imagined a scenario where Gabe would hurt me. And I can’t believe he could have imagined me hurting him. So what really happened that night? And why is he so sure—and so wrong—about me?

“Get the hell out,” he says, looking between me and Leo before his gaze lands hard on mine. “I already told you what happened. Why I know what I know. None of it should be a surprise, should it?”

I frown. That word again.

“You’re not an idiot,” Leo says. “You and I both know a motivated PI could have found your cabin. And any jerk can take a pop at you and say it’s courtesy of the Pope, much less Bella.”

“It’s not just that,” he says, shooting me a glance so full of hate I almost vomit.

“Then what?”

His eyes narrow. “She knows.”

“No,” I shout. “She doesn’t. Dammit, Gabe. She’s been dead for five years, too.” He’s gone blurry, and I furiously rub the tears from my eyes. “You have no evidence I did anything. You can’t, because I didn’t. So there can’t be evidence. “You have the word of men who tried to murder you. That’s it. That’s all you have.”

“I saw the truth in your eyes, princess. Just like I do now.”

“Bullshit. I told you I investigated. I told you I never stopped looking for answers. Did you even check? Did you even try to verify what I said? Or did what we once had mean so damn little to you?”

He doesn’t answer. But I see it—or I think I do. The tiniest crack in the armor he’s spent five years building.

“Come on, bro,” Leo says. “Think. They set you up. And now you’re trying to destroy the woman who loves you.”

“Loved.” The correction is automatic. Bitter. “Past tense.”

“No.” I step closer. Close enough to see every line that grief has carved into his face. “Present tense. Despite everything. Despite all of your bullshit, I still love you, Gabriel. I never stopped. Believe me, I wish I could.”

His breath catches. Just barely. But I see it.

“And I think you still love me,” I continue. “Because if you don’t—if you’ve really killed that part of yourself—you wouldn’t have kissed me. You wouldn’t have stolen Caged.” I take another step. “You wouldn’t be shaking right now.”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

“No.” I reach out. Touch his arm, then watch in horror as he flinches back as if I’ve burned him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I say, trying to keep the confusion out of my voice. “I just want to see you. The real you. The one who painted me like I was something precious.”

I swallow, then let my voice drop to a whisper. “He’s still in there. I have to believe he’s still in there. Because if he’s not⁠—”

My voice breaks. I let it. “If he’s not, then I’ve spent five years mourning a man who never existed. And I don’t know how to survive that.”

Gabriel closes his eyes.

For a long moment, no one speaks. No one moves. The only sound is the distant thump of leather against flesh from the ring. Pretty damn apropos.

Then he opens his eyes. And the walls slam back into place.

“Get out.”

“Dammit, Gabe,” Leo starts.

“I said get out.” He steps back from both of us, his face gone cold and hard. “I’m not your brother anymore, Leo.”