“There are things,” he says slowly, “that if you don’t know about, you are safer. Details about the reality of what I do.”
“I don’t care about that. I care about my family, about doing right by them, making sure there’s justice for what happened.”
“Okay.”
I nod. “Okay. Good.”
The fire crackles as the rain pounds against the windows. I sit in this beautiful prison with a man who terrifies me, protects me, and arouses me in equal measure.
I’ve made my choice. Not for freedom, not in the way I’ve known it. But for a family I don’t remember, a family that was taken from me.
And I’ve chosen something else—whatever this is that’s growing between Gabriel and me. As much as I want to hate him for what he’s done, for keeping things from me, I can’t.
Because he’s the lesser of two evils. And in this world—my world now—that’s the best I can hope for.
“I’m tired,” I say quietly.
“I’ll take you upstairs.”
“Your room or mine?”
He looks at me, surprised.
“I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Mine,” he says firmly. “You’re staying with me, where I can keep an eye on you.”
I should bristle at that, insist on my independence. But I don’t. Because right now, all I want is to feel safe. Even if the man making me feel safe is just as dangerous as the ones I’m hiding from.
Gabriel stands, offers me his hand.
I take it and let him lead me upstairs, to his room, to his bed, to his arms. Where I can pretend that the world outside of these walls doesn’t exist.
Where I can imagine I made the right choice.
CHAPTER 19
THEA
Two weeks later…
The nausea hits me just as I reach for my toothbrush.
I grip the edge of the sink and breathe through my nose, willing my stomach to settle. Nausea has been affecting me for the past few days.
Food poisoning, maybe. Stress, more likely. God knows I’m dealing with enough of that.
I splash cold water on my face and wait. Slowly, the feeling passes, as it always does.
I straighten up and study my reflection. I look tired and pale. There are shadows under my eyes that weren’t there two weeks ago—two weeks since I learned that my name isn’t my name, since I watched Gabriel kill two men in my apartment.
Two weeks of falling into a strange, but comfortable routine.
He touches me like I’m precious, makes love to me like he’s claiming something that was always meant to be his, holding me afterward like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
And I let him. Because despite everything—the lies, the danger, the impossible situation I’m in—I want him.
Another wave of nausea hits.