Page 68 of Martyr
Gabriel physically recoils.
I nod slowly. “That’s right—Ouranos. The one pulling all your strings.”
“He doesn’t pull my strings.”
I scoff. “Yeah, he does.”
He jumps to his feet and points at me. “No, he doesn’t!”
“You and I both know that you’d already be on Isle of Paradise if he didn’t.” I plant my hands on my hips. “The boy I knew would never let someone tear him away from her. And you know something happened—yet, here you are. Taking out your frustrations on Bradshaw.”
For a moment, I just stare at Gabriel. His dark hair is longer than I last remember. Pieces fall across his forehead and into his eyes. He drags his fingers through it intermittently, almost like a tic. He wears black pants, black boots, and an army-green long-sleeve shirt. No visible weapons.
That doesn’t lend me any comfort.
There’s no gun holstered at his hip, no knife—unless it’s tucked in his boot, under his pant leg. That’s where I would keep one.
His skin is still so pale. There are dark circles under his eyes. And there’s a smattering of bruises across his cheek, as well as fresh cuts.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
He laughs. His dark eyes glitter. “You’ll have to be more specific, Artemis. A lot has happened to me.”
“Recently. To your face.”
“Oh.” He sighs. His whole body seems to cave in. “A little disagreement.”
“And you were put in your place,” I fill in. “With your face under his boot.”
He perks, like my reason for being here suddenly makes sense. “What a nice play! You want to pit me against him.”
I sigh. “I just want you to befree.”
He locks up again.
Why?
Tension rolls through him, and he bursts into motion. He paces, his head bent. His gaze stays on his fingers, picking athis nails. “Freedom. Do you know what freedom means as a concept? It’s just a bigger cage. More room to move around. The bars are a different color. But they’re still there. It’s all a trap. You can’t believe in freedom because it’s a myth. As impossible to reach as Heaven.”
“No.”
He jerks. “Yes, Artemis. You freed me, and now I am on a leash. I can roam, but I cannot do as I please. You free Lyssa, and she is trapped in her head. You freed Reese—well, I suppose Kade freed Reese Avery from a cage ofmymaking—but he won’t leave because he loves you. That’s a cage all on its own, isn’t it? Sooner or later, he’ll gnaw off his own leg just to be free of you.”
“Enough.” Saint’s voice cracks across the room like a whip.
Gabriel jumps and whirls. He spots Saint on the opposite side of the platform. His gun, unlike mine, is in his grip. It’s up, pointed at Gabriel, and he doesn’t seem at all conflicted about pulling the trigger.
“You know about love, don’t you, Gabriel? Do you want to chew off your leg, to use your metaphor, to be free of Lyssa?” Saint skirts the platform and comes to a stop beside me.
Gabriel waves his hand. “She’s different.”
“Why? Because she’s been gone the last ten years?” Saint glowers at him. “She’s still alive, man. She’s still here, and instead of being your best self for her, you’ve lost your damn marbles.”
“Terror twists minds,” Gabriel replies softly. “And wouldn’t you know it? Terror is rising from the dead. I can already feel it. Do you think we expand to fit the cage we’re in? How would it feel to be shoved back into the tiny box where fear began?”
A shiver sweeps down my spine. “Terror isn’t coming back.”
“Oh, yes, it is. That’s his plan. Take the city, reignite Terror. He was an investor.” Gabriel’s eyes are wide, and he faces us. His hands come up, palms facing the ceiling. Like an open call forprayer. “And who are we? Entertainment. Bodies. Flesh to bleed and bruise and brutalize.”
