Page 54 of The Beast

And he’d spent years making sure he never lost control again.

He wanted to be the one who destroyed her. Piece by piece. The way she destroyed him. Her gallery. Her reputation. Her family’s empire. He wanted her to watch it all crumble and know that he was the one turning the screws.

He wanted her to suffer.

But now⁠—

I still love you, Gabriel. I never stopped.

He turned at the soft knock at the door, was about to tell whoever it was to get the fuck away, when the door opened, and Travis leaned against the frame.

“I need to start locking that damn thing,” Gabriel said. “They’re gone?”

Travis nodded. “Leo looked like he wanted to punch a wall. The girl looked like she wanted to cry.” A pause. “And you look like hell.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” Travis crossed to the bar, poured himself a drink, and settled into the leather chair. “You want to tell me what that was about?”

“Why? You heard it all.”

“I heard you throw your brother and the woman you’ve been obsessing about for years out of this damn cell you keep yourself locked up in.” He took a sip. “I’m asking why?”

“Because she tried to kill me.”

“Did she?”

Gabriel turned to face him. “You, too? Christ, Travis. You’re the one who fucking saved me. You know these wounds better than I do.”

“The wounds, yeah. But I’ve only just met who you say inflicted them.”

“Fucking, hell, Travis.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “You know what happened to me. Don’t rewrite history.”

“I think we may have us a Columbus situation here.”

“A what?”

“We thought the world was flat. Now I’m thinking it’s round.”

Gabe rubbed his temples, then sat. He knew perfectly well that he wasn’t going to get Travis to drop it. Whatever it was. “I’m listening.”

I’ve been doing some digging.” Travis’s voice was calm. Level. The same tone he’d used when he found Gabriel half-dead in a snowbank and told him he was going to be fine, even though they’d both known it was probably a lie.

“You know damn well that woman spent months trying to find out what happened to you.” He held up a hand before Gabe could interrupt. “She hired investigators. Bribed cops. Burned through money like she was printing it to chase leads that went nowhere.” He set down his glass. “You know it. I know it. When will you get it through your thick skull that those aren’t the actions of a woman who wanted you dead?”

“She’s playing the grieving princess. Of course, she’s covering her tracks⁠—”

“For five years?” Travis shook his head. “Nobody’s that committed to a lie. And the grief? People I talked to said she was destroyed. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Almost fell apart completely.”

Gabriel didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. He remembered those months only too well. The months after Travis pulled him out of that snowbank and drove him to his home in the middle of nowhere. The months Travis spent stitching him back together—literally. At first, with the skills he’d learned during his time as a Texas Ranger, and then figuratively, sitting with him through the nightmares, forcing him to eat when he wanted to starve, talking him down when the rage got so bad he couldn’t see straight.

Travis had given up everything to follow Gabe. His store. His quiet life. He’d brought Anissa with him, and they’d helped Gabe build this empire of shadows and violence. Five years of unwavering loyalty, and he’d never once questioned Gabriel’s mission.

Until now.

“Why are you telling me this?” Gabriel’s voice came out rougher than he intended.

“Because I don’t think you’re as sure as you pretend to be.”