Chapter 35
Gabriella
Now
The room smelled damp.
It wasn’t the kind of smell you noticed straight away, not unless you’d been sitting in it for a while, breathing it in over and over again until it settled into the back of your throat and refused to leave.
It clung to everything. The walls. The floor.
The thin mattress beneath me. Even the air felt heavier for it, like it had been trapped down here for too long and had no intention of ever circulating properly again.
This wasn’t the kind of place where life thrived. This was where life was snuffed out. Smothered in disgust and violence, until it ceased to exist.
I shifted slightly where I sat on the edge of the bed, the movement pulling at my ribs sharply enough to make me pause for a second before forcing myself to continue.
Everything hurt. My side. My jaw. My throat.
Even my scalp still felt tender where Nico had grabbed me.
It had been hours, I think. Or maybe it had been less.
Time moved strangely down here, stretching and folding in on itself until it stopped meaning anything at all.
Across from me, my mum watched quietly.
She hadn’t said much since they’d thrown us in here.
But then again, she hadn’t been capable of doing much at all. Even her breathing had a wet rasp to it, which made each breath seem difficult and painful.
My eyes flicked over her once more, my lips tightening. Her lips were split again, both of her eyes were blackened, her neck was covered in deep, purple fingerprints, and her wrist was bent at a painful angle.
“You should lie down,” she said eventually, her voice softer than I remembered it being. Tired. Worn in a way that had nothing to do with today and everything to do with the years before it.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, as I always did.
She gave me a look that told me exactly how little she believed that. “Gabby…”
“I said I’m fine,” I said, firmer this time. The silence settled between us, both uncomfortable and heavy.
She shifted in her chair, wincing slightly as she did, and I caught the movement before she could hide it.
“Mum… you’re hurt,” I said. “You need to get some rest.”
“I’m old,” she replied simply. “Everything hurts.”
“You and I both know that your age has nothing to do with your pain. Why are you still pretending that they don’t hurt you? I can fucking see it, Mother!” I snapped, immediately regretting releasing my frustration on her.
She didn’t reply. She simply turned slightly away from me and looked sadly at the wall.
“Have you forgotten that I’ve seen it with my own eyes? Have you forgotten I was there that night when—”
“Gabriella, enough!” she barked at me.
But I was going to piss her off more. Because there was a question I needed to ask. An answer I needed to know.
Because last time I had fucked up this badly… well, there were some wounds that cut deeper when they couldn’t be seen.
I swallowed, my throat tightening slightly as I forced the words out. “Did he… Did he let them…?”
“No,” she cut in quickly, before I could finish the question. “No. Not this time.”
The relief that hit me then made my knees weak. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
“For what?”
“For… all of it.” I gestured vaguely, the movement small, like even acknowledging it properly might make it worse. “For you being stuck here. For me not—”
“Don’t,” she said firmly, and the strength in her voice surprised me enough that I looked up properly.
Her eyes were on me now, sharper than they had been all day.
“Do not take responsibility for this,” she said. “Not now. Not ever.”
“Mum—”
“No,” she shook her head, pushing herself forward slightly in her chair despite the obvious discomfort it caused her.
“You have spent years doing that. Years putting your life on hold, making yourself smaller, making yourself… less, just to keep me safe.” Her voice wavered slightly then, but she didn’t stop. “I won’t let you do it again.”
My chest tightened.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” she asked gently. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks exactly the same. You shouldn’t fucking be here! You should have left years ago. With him!”
I winced, knowing who she was talking about.
“But it’s not too late, Gabby. You can go. Forget about me and this place. I can handle what’s coming. I can’t handle knowing you’re slowly destroying yourself.”
I looked away from her, letting her words wash over me.
I couldn’t answer her, because everything she said was true. I had made her safety my priority since Dad died. I had put my life on hold the second Nico became president. All my plans went out the window. She became my focus.
I had let Vienna leave years ago to keep him safe, but as soon as Nico arrived, I wanted to go to him. I would have explained everything. I would have got to my knees and apologised for all the years between us, explained what my dad made me do, and what Nico was planning.
And then Nico had my mother abused by every member of this club—a way to show that she was no longer the treasured old lady of the president, and instead demoted to something not even worth a shred of respect.
So I stayed. Because I knew that if I gave my life to Nico, it would keep her safe.
And we both understood that.
“If I leave,” I said eventually, my voice quieter now, “he’ll take it out on you.”
“He already does,” she said the words without emotion, without hesitation, just a sad, resigned truth.
My head snapped back toward her. “He doesn’t hurt you like he could. Like he wants to. Things could be so much worse for you.”
“How?”
“You could be dead!”
“Do you know what, Gabby? After everything, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
“You don’t mean that,” I whispered. “And I’m not letting you die. You have some safety right now. I know it doesn’t seem like it, given our current situation, but my sacrifice has kept you alive!”
“And you think that makes it better?”
“Yes.”
“It doesn’t.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, the silence between us stretching tight enough to snap.
“I’m not leaving you here,” I said finally.
“I know.”
That caught me off guard. “You… know?”
She nodded slowly. “Of course I do. You’ve made that very clear over the years. I’ve always known you’d be a martyr and die here with me.”
There was no judgement in her words, but she seemed so unbelievably sad, as though she was somehow responsible.
“You shouldn’t have to,” she added, softer now. “That’s the part you don’t seem to understand.”
“I’m not here because I have to be, I’m here because I want to be. Because without Dad or Damien here, it’s my job to keep you safe.”
She sighed heavily. “You don’t understand.”
“I do understand!”
“No, you don’t!” She leaned forward again, her hands clasping together tightly in her lap. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t still be here. You’re here because you didn’t think you had another option.”
I opened my mouth to argue, and yet nothing came out.
Because she wasn’t wrong. What other option was there?
Vienna would accept me if I left—of that I had no doubt.
And his club would come around, eventually.
But they would never, ever accept my mother.
Not after her husband brutally murdered Zach and her son was directly responsible for Crash’s death.
“I know what you gave up,” she said quietly. “What you were forced to give up. I know what your life could have been. I know more than you think I do.”
My stomach dropped.
“Mum—”
“I’m not blind, Gabriella.” Her voice softened again, but there was something steadier beneath it now. “I saw it. The way you were. The way you used to be before all of this. Before…” She trailed off slightly, her gaze flicking away for a second. “Before everything.”
My throat tightened.
Because I knew exactly what she meant.
“You were happy,” she continued. “And then one day… you weren’t.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s life.”
“No,” she said gently. “That wasn’t life. That was something taken from you. Something your dad took from you. I know what he forced you to do. And since then… you’ve just accepted all the shit thrown at you. You think Nico punishing you is what you deserve. Because of what you did.”
“I made my choices,” I said, though it sounded weaker than I intended.
“Yes,” she agreed. “You did.” Another pause. “And you’ve been paying for them ever since.”
I flinched.
Because that was the truth of it. And I didn’t want to hear it.
Her eyes softened slightly as she watched me. “Right! We’re getting you out,” she said suddenly.
My head snapped up. “What?”
“You’re leaving.”
“I just told you—”
“And I told you,” she cut in, her voice firmer now, stronger than I’d heard it in a long time, “that you’re not staying here for me.”
“I’m not leaving you behind.”
“You’re not leaving me,” she said. “I’m making the choice to stay. And you… you’re getting out. There’s a difference.”
“There isn’t.”
“There is,” she insisted. “Because once you’re out, you have a chance to do something. To come back. To fix this. To… to actually live your life instead of just surviving it.”
I shook my head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do,” she said quietly. “I’m asking you to stop sacrificing yourself for me.”
My eyes burned.
“I’m asking you,” she continued, her voice softening again, “to give yourself the chance you should have had years ago.”
Years ago.
My mind flickered.
To a different room.
A different bed.
A different version of me.
One that had been happy. One that had been given the prospect of a new life, where anything was possible, and the future was just beginning.
I shut the thought down before it could go any further. Some wounds were too painful to reopen and examine.
Then, after a long moment, she reached across and took my hand.
“You’ve been through enough,” she said quietly. “More than enough.”
My throat tightened painfully.
“And I’m so sorry,” she added, her voice breaking just slightly. “For all of it. For not protecting you better. For not seeing it sooner. For…” she hesitated. “For everything you lost along the way.”
My fingers tightened around hers.
“We’ll figure this out,” she said after a moment. “Together.”
I nodded.
Because it was easier than arguing.
Easier than admitting that I didn’t see a way out of this that didn’t end in someone getting hurt.
And then, my hand moved instinctively to my stomach, pressing there for the briefest second before I caught myself.
Mum noticed. Of course she noticed. But for once, she said nothing. She just tightened her grip on my hand and looked at me with an expression so full of grief that I had to look away.
Because some losses never really left you.
They just learn how to live in your bones.