22. Gabriel
22
Gabriel
H ere I am back in the same cold, sterilized building, where the air reeks of antiseptic and the fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead. This time it’s not for me. The walls are too white, too clean like they’re trying to erase the blood and chaos that led us here. It’s been days, but nothing looks promising. Time drags, stretching thin between hopeful glances at the monitors and the empty silence that follows.
My Little Killer lies still, her face deceptively peaceful, as if she’s just sleeping and not recovering from the nightmare we pulled her out of. The bruises cover her body, torn skin around her ankles and wrists, multiple facial fractures, malnourished, and over a dozen of other bones are broken in her body. Each mark paints a vision I wish I never could see again. I only know what my imagination lets me know when it comes to the torment she had faced in Marklov’s grasp. But she is alive.
I can see the pain etched into every inch of her body, and it tears me apart. She’s been through hell and back, and the evidence is all over her. I wish I could take it all away and bear the pain for her, but all I can do is stand by and offer what little comfort I can. The deep lashes on her body are the only signs of what she survived.
The monitors beep in their steady rhythm, a cruel contrast to the unease clawing at my chest. I should find comfort in that sound, in the way her chest rises and falls with each breath—but all I can feel is the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. I mean, for fucks sake, it’s the machine keeping her alive. What if she dies? I have nothing.
My crew got lucky—just bruises and scratches, nothing serious. Raph took the worst hit. A bullet to the shoulder, deep but clean, nothing that won’t heal with time. He’s been gritting through the pain, waving off any real concern, but I see the tension in his jaw, the stiffness in his movements. We all walked away from this fight, but at what cost?
I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees, eyes locked on Inés. She looks so small, so fragile beneath the hospital sheets, a huge difference from the force of nature she’s always been known to be. Her lips are cracked, her skin is too pale, and the IV line taped to her arm makes a lump form in my throat, and I push it down the best I can. She has to wake up. She has to come back to us, to me.
But the worst part of all—the thing that keeps me up at night, gnawing at the edges of my sanity—is that Esmé is still gone. Vanished. No signs, no leads, nothing but the echo of her name in my mind, over and over again.
And the terrifying thought I can’t shake? What if this time, I was too late? What if she’s dead all because of me?
I grip onto my jeans, sweat cakes my skin. I haven’t showered since the whole shit show, but one thing that I know is for certain, I will get my answers–soon. Time will tell, even though I need them now.
The door creaks open. I jump up in defense. The lack of sleep and eating is probably taking a toll on my body. It’s just Raph, his arm in a sling. His hair slicked back to perfection, and the smell of his cologne hit like a wave. Fresh musk scent.
“Hey G, how you holding up amigo?” His face is covered in concern.
I drag a shaky breath, forcing myself to look at Raph. “Tell me you have something,” I say, my voice rough, barely holding back the storm brewing inside me. “Anything.”
Raph hesitates, rolling his injured shoulder like he’s buying himself a second to think. That alone tells me enough. He takes a seat.
I shoot up from my chair, hands gripping my head. “Fuck!” The word ricochets off the sterile hospital walls, but I don’t care. My pulse pounds in my skull, rage curling up my spine like a live wire. “She didn’t just fucking disappear into thin air, Raph! Someone has her.”
Raph exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I know. You think I don’t fucking know that?” He sits up, his good hand gripping his knee. “I’ve been out there, G. I checked every goddamn corner, camera feed, beat the shit out of the men who survived, but nobody’s talking. Either they don’t know or—”
“Or they’re fucking lying.” My fists clench at my sides. My nails dig into my palms, grounding me.
Raph meets my gaze, his own dark with something unspoken. “Yeah.”
That one word sends ice through my veins.
I take a slow step back, turning toward Inés. Her face is still pale, her body unmoving beneath the sheets. She was there. She saw what happened before she ended up like this. She could tell me where Esmé is—if she wakes up.
But I can’t wait for that. Time isn’t on my side.
I inhale deeply, steadying myself. “Then we make them talk.”
“I’ll stay with Inés,” Raph says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You need to go home, shower, eat something. Get your head on straight.”
I shake my head, jaw tightening. “I’m not leaving her.”
“You sitting here like a fucking ghost isn’t gonna wake her up,” he snaps. “You smell like shit, and you’re running on fumes. You think Esmé has time for you to pass out from exhaustion?”
That hits harder than I want to admit. I rub my face, feeling the grime on my skin, the stickiness of sweat and regret clinging to me. He’s right. I know he’s right. But leaving feels like giving up, like turning my back on something I should be able to fix.
Still, I exhale sharply and nod. “Fine. Just call me if—”
“If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know,” Raph finishes for me. His eyes soften just enough to remind me that, beneath all the bravado, he actually gives a shit.
I glance at Inés one last time, swallowing down the guilt clawing at my throat. My hand grazes lightly across her cheek, and my fingers push a strand of hair behind her ear. Then I turn on my heel and walk out, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The second I hit the cold night air, I suck in a deep breath, filling my lungs with something that isn’t hospital sterility and old blood. My bike is where one of the guys left it, dusted in grime, just another thing I’ve neglected. I climb on, gripping the bars so tight my knuckles crack.
I need to shower. I need to think.
But more than anything, I need to get Esmé back if there is an Esmé to get back.