Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Gabriel Grimm had ridden in this elevator to the Grimm Tower penthouse a million times and was certain it had never once moved this slowly.
He gave the polished interior a hard kick as he stared at the climbing numbers and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to say. He’d never been good at apologies. Never had to be.
He was a Grimm, after all. And the Grimm men didn’t apologize—they maneuvered, strategized, outplayed their opponents until they were the ones saying sorry.
Gabriel knew that well. He’d been his father’s favorite. The bright and shiny heir. The one that had the family’s friends trembling—and their enemies pissing themselves.
And none of that mattered.
Isabella wasn’t an opponent he could out-maneuver. And it damn sure wasn’t a game he could win with strategy.
The number climbed. Forty-two. Forty-three.
He’d called Leo on the way over, just to confirm she’d arrived safely.
She had, and Leo left her alone to chase a lead on Sterling’s location.
He and Mina had been away from the Monarch for days now, and the lead was hot.
Hopefully, it would go somewhere, but Sterling was slippery enough that Gabe doubted they’d get that lucky so soon.
Harper was also crashing at the penthouse, but Leo said she’d be gone until morning. Some sort of work crisis had sent her off to Manhattan.
All of which meant Isabella was alone there. She was safe—Grimm security around the residence was top-notch—but that didn’t mean she was settled. She was probably stewing in the same toxic cocktail of anger and hurt that had been churning through Gabriel’s gut since she’d walked out.
Forty-seven. Forty-eight.
He watched the floors go by, wondering what he was going to say? That he was sorry? That he’d been wrong? That the thought of letting Sterling Hart breathe another day made him want to claw his way out of his own skin, but the thought of losing her was worse?
All of it was true. None of it felt like enough.
Fifty. Fifty-one.
He’d spent three hours at The Beast after she left.
Not fighting. Just standing at ringside, watching other men trade blows because he couldn’t make himself get in there to burn it off.
Couldn’t find the will to get in that ring and picture each and every one of his opponents as Sterling Fucking Hart.
He’d tried, dammit. But he couldn’t find the right headspace. Instead, he just found her, over and over, telling him that he was on the verge of becoming what he despised. A monster. Just like Sterling Hart.
She was right. He hated that she was right.
Fifty-four.
Finally.
The doors slid open, and Gabriel stepped out into the foyer. The penthouse was quiet, lights dimmed, the massive windows showcasing Atlantic City’s glittering sprawl. He could see her silhouette on the balcony, wrapped in what looked like one of Leo’s hoodies, staring out at nothing.
His chest ached just looking at her.
He crossed the living room slowly, giving her time to hear his footsteps, to decide if she wanted to flee before he reached her. She didn’t move at all. Just stood there, her back to him, arms wrapped around herself, shoulders tight with tension.
Finally, she said, “Leo told you that I’m alone here tonight, didn’t he?”
“Don’t blame him. I’m older and can take him in a fight.”
She didn’t turn, but the way her shoulders moved suggested he’d won a smile.
That was something.
“He also said you probably don’t want to see me, but I’m an asshole and came anyway.”
This time, her shoulders didn’t move.
“Can I come out there with you?”
She was quiet for a long moment. Then, “I don’t know. Can you do it without telling me how my father needs to die?”
He still believed it. Probably always would. But that wasn’t why he was here.
“I can try.”
Another pause. Then she shifted slightly, making room at the railing. Not an invitation, exactly. But not a rejection either.
The wind was cold this high up, but he barely felt it. All he could feel as he moved to the rail was her—the distance between them, the wall she’d built since this morning, the fear radiating off her in waves.
Fear of him. No. Fear for him. Fear of what he might become.
And that hurt worse than anything Sterling Hart had ever done to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She didn’t respond. Didn’t move away. Didn’t shrug. Didn’t look at him.
He cleared his throat. “This morning, I was wrong. The way I talked about your father, the things I said—I made you feel like your opinion didn’t matter.
Like I’d already made up my mind and you just had to live with it.
” He gripped the railing, knuckles white.
“That’s not okay. That’s not the man I want to be. Not with you.”
“And what man do you want to be?” She finally turned to look at him, and the pain in her eyes nearly broke him. “Because the one I saw this morning scared me, Gabriel. Really scared me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She stepped closer, and he could see the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks.
“Because here’s what I keep coming back to.
You believed the worst about me for five years.
Five years of hating me, planning to destroy me.
But then, when it really mattered, you chose to believe in me without proof. You took a leap of faith.”
“I remember.”
“So why can’t you do that now?” Her voice cracked. “Why can’t you have faith that the system will work? That my father will face real consequences? Why does it have to be blood?”
The question cut deep. Deeper than she knew.
“Because systems don’t work for men like him.
” The words came out raw. “Sterling Hart has been committing crimes for decades. Money laundering, bribery, attempted murder—and he’s never spent a single night in jail.
And right now, he’s out there eliminating witnesses while we wait for warrants to get signed. ”
Bella said nothing, her expression unreadable.
“I know what you’re asking me to do,” he continued.
“I know the courts are the right answer. I know killing him makes me a monster. I know all of that.” He turned to face her fully.
“But every time I close my eyes, I see that cabin. I feel the ropes. I hear them whispering your name.” He stopped.
Breathed. “And then I think about him walking free. Again. Like he always does. And the beast wants blood.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, not in defense of the cold, he thought, but in defense against him.
“So you’re going to give it to him? Blood?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “That’s the plan? Kill him and damn the consequences?”
“The plan is to protect you the only way I know how.”
“By becoming someone I can’t love?”
The words hit like a physical blow, and he swallowed. Hard.
“No,” he said softly, then took her hand, and when she didn’t pull away, something loosened in his chest. “I can’t lose you over this. Over him.”
He dragged the fingers of his free hand through his hair. “This morning, you asked me to choose, and I couldn’t give you an answer. But I have one now.”
“And?”
“I choose you.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I choose us. I choose being the kind of man who lets the courts handle it, even when every cell in my body wants blood.”
Her smile bloomed as he continued.
“I choose day by day, one step at a time, figuring out how to be someone worthy of you.”
Bella looked at him, her eyes searching his face as if for cracks. For any sign that this was just another pretty speech.
He let her look. He had nothing left to hide.
“I want to believe you,” she finally said.
“But?”
“But I’ve heard a lot of promises from a lot of men that weren’t worth a dime. My father. David. Even you—you promised to come back from Aspen, and then you were gone for five years. You were right here. Right under my nose, and I never had a clue.”
She pulled her hand gently from his. “I need more than words, Gabe. I need time.”
“Time.” The word tasted sour and felt like a slamming door.
“Time to think. Time to figure out if loving each other is enough.” She wrapped her arms around herself again, pulling away. “I hear what you’re saying. And I believe you want to mean it. But wanting and doing are different things.”
“Bella.”
“Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Please just let me sleep on it. Let me figure out what I need.”
Every instinct screamed at him to stay. To argue. To hold her until she believed him, until the wall between them crumbled and they were back in bed, tangled together like this morning had never happened.
But that wasn’t what she was asking for. And if he was really going to be different—really going to choose her better angels over his demons—then this was where it started.
“Okay,” he said.
She blinked. “Okay? Really? Okay?”
“You need time. I’ll give you time.” He stepped back, putting distance between them even though each inch made his heart ache more.
“Oh.”
He heard the surprise in her voice and almost laughed.
“Gabe. Thank you.”
“I love you.” He said it simply, without expectation. “I’ll love you tomorrow, and the day after, and every day until you tell me to stop. And I’ll keep loving you then, too, because stopping’s impossible. But I’ll be quieter about it.”
She smiled, and the sight of it squeezed his heart. “Seriously. Take whatever time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
He made himself turn. Made himself walk back through the penthouse, past the expensive furniture and the stunning views and all the trappings of the Grimm empire that suddenly meant nothing.
At the elevator, he paused and looked back.
She was still on the balcony, silhouetted against the city lights, small and alone.
He wanted to go back to her. Wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything.
Instead, he pressed the button and stepped into the elevator.
The doors closed, and Gabriel Grimm did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.
He let her go.