8. Gabriel
Chapter 8
Gabriel
“ Y ou’re lying.” Brinley shook her head.
Gabriel could see her trying to fight through her remaining pain, but he had little sympathy for the witch right now. She’d been heading straight toward Rose with a fucking weapon. He didn’t care if she claimed to be searching for a window. He didn’t care if Rose could easily take the woman out with a single swipe of her claws—actually that made him angrier for reasons he didn’t want to think about right now. Regardless, Brinley had been heading toward his sister, and he would never allow that to happen. Not when her memories had been tampered with. Not when he didn’t know what they had replaced them with. He didn’t trust Brinley.
Never again would a witch go near Rose unless it was strictly to save her.
“I’m not.” He set the letter opener on one of the bookshelves lining the adjacent wall. “They’re dead. All of them.”
“No,” she whispered before screaming the word. “No!”
He clenched his jaw, unable to look at her as she sobbed. His chest ached at the sound. Only when the door opened again did he face her. But she wasn’t leaving. It was Paxton running in. He wore only a loose pair of pants, and his hair was ruffled. At least someone had been able to sleep tonight. Gabriel had tossed and turned for an hour before giving up and going for a walk in the cool night air. He’d just returned when he saw Brinley toward the stairs.
Pax glanced from him to the witch now curled up on the floor—similar to a few days ago when Gabriel found her after bringing her here from the prison cell. Except, that day, she’d been quietly crying. Now… she was wailing in pure agony. And as much as Gabriel wanted to deny it, he could feel her heartache. He knew what it was like to lose everything, but at least he still had his home, his friends, Rose. Brinley thought she had nothing left. Guilt tore at his insides, knowing that wasn’t true. She hadn’t accepted that the Crimson Pack were her people too, that her father had been DeLoup.
“You told her?” Paxton asked.
Gabriel nodded. He hadn’t been able to tell her the day he found out. He’d been too distracted by their conversation about Keir, as well as her lack of magic. And then, he delayed the inevitable both because he simply didn’t want to tell her and because she hadn’t been willing to talk or listen to him, so he’d avoided her instead.
He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to go pick her up off the ground. It was instinctual, this need to comfort her, to tell her the truth of everything. To tell her she wasn’t alone in this world. In the past, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but now…
To his shock, Pax moved closer to her and knelt. She flinched away from him, curling in on herself. Joel had told him her ribs weren’t broken, likely just bruised, but Gabriel knew that position must have been hurting her.
“Brinley?” Slowly, Pax reached out as if to put a hand on her shoulder.
A low growl emitted from Gabriel before he could stop himself. He stomped over to them and leaned down, scooping her into his arms for what felt like the dozenth time that week.
“Put me down!” she screeched.
Ignoring her, he carried her into the bedroom. His best friend followed them. Gabriel placed her on the bed and searched for the vial of willow essence. It wasn’t on the nightstand though. Then, he remembered she’d planned on escaping.
“What are you doing?” Brinley screamed as he dug into her pocket. She squirmed, trying to get away from him.
His fingers closed around the tonic, and he pulled it out. Removing the stopper, he said, “Drink this before you pass out.”
She pushed his hand away with another shout. If she didn’t stop, she’d wake the whole house. Or the whole village. “I don’t want anything from you!”
He could practically feel the agony she was attempting to hide. Stubborn fucking witch. He set the vial on the nightstand. “Fine, suffer more for no reason. I don’t give a shit,” he lied.
“Get out!” She shoved at his arm, pushing, hitting. All the while crying.
Pax stepped forward, but Gabriel shook his head. Despite being a witch, Brinley wasn’t dangerous. She didn’t have access to her magic, nor did she have enough strength to physically fight him. He let her get out her anger and grief for a moment before grabbing her wrists. “Enough.”
She stilled at his tone, meeting his gaze. Her blue eyes were glossy and red, filled with such profound sadness that he had to swallow past the tightness in his throat.
“You killed them all,” she whispered.
“I didn’t kill any of them. I told you?—”
“I don’t care what you said; you killed them,” she interrupted. “Even if it’s true that you didn’t lead the attack, you were there. You had enough power as an alpha to stop the man from killing me. You could have stopped them from s-slaughtering...”
He sighed. “That was one DeLoup. I can’t just waltz into a pack that isn’t mine and take command. Besides, it was too late to help the others.”
“You should have tried.” Her voice rose again.
“Why, so we both could have joined their corpses?” He’d thought about that night over and over, trying to figure out if there had been a way to save some of them. There had to have been children there, and they didn’t deserve such a gruesome ending. But even if he had tried, none of them would have trusted him enough to follow him out of there. The guilt had eaten away at him. He didn’t need her throwing it in his face even more.
“Why did you even bother saving me?”
Another question he couldn’t answer. Not yet at least.
“Just to see me suffer with the knowledge that I couldn’t protect my people?” She ripped her arms out of his hold.
Gabriel opened his mouth but didn’t know how to respond. The words wouldn’t come out. It didn’t matter though. She wasn’t finished insulting him.
“You’re all monsters,” she said. “All of you. And if you think for one second that I’m just going to stay here?—”
“Where would you go?” Paxton asked with a note of sincerity.
She kept her eyes on Gabriel and crossed her arms. “I would go to Chateau des Reines.”
He clenched his jaw. Brinley licked her lips, and he followed the movement. One of her brows quirked up, letting him know she saw him, but he didn’t care. Not when the next words out of that pretty mouth shattered so many things in his soul.
“If everyone from that village is truly dead, it’s time for me to go home,” she said, holding his gaze in a challenge. “If no one survived, that means I’m now the Queen of Reinous.”
One week. It had been a whole week since he told Brinley about the destruction of that small village. A week since she’d screamed at him, calling him a monster, and then reminded him that she was now the queen.
A week since Paxton saw for himself that she had no memory of them. And that she truly didn’t know how to use her magic.
“You’re distracted tonight,” Paxton said from his spot on Rose’s settee as he watched her painting at the easel. He barely even glanced at Gabriel, but it was clear who the statement was directed toward.
Her other closest friend, Harris, was painting beside her on a separate canvas next to her. He paused to look up at them.
“Just a lot on my mind.” Gabriel toyed with the fringe on one of the small pillows his sister had littered throughout the room. He sat in an armchair, needing an escape from the rest of the world. Or rather, needing somewhere to go since he obviously couldn’t use his study right now.
Brinley was still in there, still sleeping in his bed. She hadn’t tried to escape again, instead refusing to even leave those rooms. He’d left her a couple more of Rose’s old dresses, and he, Paxton, or Joel brought her food each day. Brighid refused to interact with her, and Gabriel wouldn’t make her.
Paxton nodded in understanding. Rose peeked out from behind her canvas. “About?”
They had decided to keep most of what they knew from his sister. At least for the time being. It wasn’t easy though. He shared almost everything with her. So, he only told part of the truth… without all the specific details. “The witch.”
“The one you’re still hiding from me?” she said with a chuckle.
“I’m not hiding her,” he grumbled. “She won’t leave my room. If anything, I’m hiding you from her . I don’t want you anywhere near her.”
Rose rolled her eyes and set her paintbrush and palette on a table. He could see her exhaustion from here, the effort each step took her. When her legs visibly shook, both he and Pax jumped to their feet. All three men rushed toward her, but Pax was closer. He immediately had an arm around her waist, lending his support as she walked to the settee. He sat beside her, and she leaned into his side.
Gabriel let out a breath. “Did you take anything for the pain today?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Pax grabbed the soft blanket off the back of the settee to drape over her as she began to shiver. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, rubbing a hand up and down her arm to help warm her. The tonics helped the pain, but some made her tired. She was also constantly cold these days, despite it being mid-soleil season and spending most of her time in a room with the sun shining directly on her.
Still standing, Gabriel watched her curling up against his best friend. She’d been infatuated with him since she was a child, and Pax had always looked out for her, loving her as if she were his sister too. Despite their seven-year difference in age, they were close friends, thick as thieves. Just like she was with Harris, who was now cleaning up their painting supplies, his jaw visibly clenched.
Seeing her health declining had taken its toll on all of them. When Gabriel found her on the floor last harvest season, unable to get up, shaking from being so cold and scared, he’d insisted someone always stay with her from then on. She hated it at first, only agreeing if they sat by the door out of sight.
Paxton and Harris were the exception to that demand. They just strolled in and plopped down on the settee or the end of her bed, making themselves comfortable.
Clearing his throat, Gabriel said, “I should go check on some things. Are you good here?”
“Yeah,” Pax said with a nod that mirrored Rose’s.
Gabriel turned and headed toward the exit. He didn’t stop until he was down the stairs and in his study. Leaning back against the closed door, he shut his eyes and covered his face with both hands. Seeing his sister like that was torture. It was overwhelming, making it difficult to breathe. They were running out of time to help her, and it was killing him inside.
“What are you doing?”
He’d forgotten his space was occupied. With a sigh, he opened his eyes to look at Brinley. She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, her arms crossed. It appeared as if she felt better, but her anger hadn’t faded.
“I…” He didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to tell her? I came in here so no one sees that I’m about to break down because it’s all too much. He was the alpha; he couldn’t be seen as weak or vulnerable. Especially in front of her.
She raised a dark eyebrow at him. She’d gotten her color back, and it seemed her sass. He hated how painfully beautiful she was. It was a cruel trick likely sent directly from La Déesse to torment him. The goddess had wrapped up something poisonous in a pretty bow to lure him in.
He pushed off the door. “You need to learn how to use your magic.”
Brinley scoffed. “And how do you propose I do that?”
“I don’t know.” He went toward the bookshelf. “Surely, you have some knowledge on the matter. Your grandmother was the High Sorceress.”
When she didn’t respond, he turned to face her. If she had access to her magic, he never would have put his back to her, but he didn’t fear this woman. Not in this state. She moved to sit on the arm of the sofa, her long skirt swooshing around her ankles. It was faded blue, the hem a little tattered on one side. It fit though, albeit a little too tightly. The combination of it and the wrap around her ribs pushed her breasts up, and he found himself repeatedly distracted by the perfect round globes peeking over the low neckline. He subtly shifted as his pants started to feel a little tight.
He needed a distraction. Now.
“Why don’t we start with what you do know,” he said while stepping around his desk.
She pivoted on the armrest to face him. “I’m not doing this with you. Why in the hell would I tell you? And why would you want me to have my magic? Surely, you know if I had any, I’d use it against you and escape.”
“For the hundredth time, you’re not a prisoner, bijou.”
“Stop calling me that,” she said, enunciating each word.
Gabriel couldn’t fight the smirk if he wanted to. “Not a chance.”