Page 21 of Gabriel
Elira’s sunglasses were back on, even though it was pitch-black through the windshield. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
The back of my throat still tasted like plaster dust and panic. We were bleeding adrenaline and guessing at every turn.
But one thing was clear: Jet had known something was coming and he hadn’t warned us.
“Do you think Jet anticipated the explosion?” I questioned.
Elira flicked me a glance before focusing back on the road. “He seemed paranoid. Almost as if someone was coming after him. The explosion must have something to do with Santos.”
My brows furrowed. “That’s kind of far-fetched, don’t you think? Santos is in Albania with his sister.”
“His sister is there, but Santos left Albania. We need to find that man. Jet said he’s the key,” Elira said coldly.
“Yeah, the key, not the killer.”
“Same damned thing,” she retorted dryly. “We have to find Santos and question him.”
I scoffed. “About what?”
“His dealings with Jet. The explosion. Everything.”
I stared at my sister’s profile in disbelief. It wasn’t like Elira to jump to conclusions or act peculiar, yet I couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something off about her. She was being kind of cagey.
“Do you know something I don’t?” I asked her slowly.
“No, why?”
I let out a breath. “Because you seem so sure that Santos is the answer, although I’m unsure to what.”
“Well, we were almost killed. Jet sent us a note, saying that Santos is the key. It seems natural to go after him.”
“Maybe, but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions and accuse him of anything until we’re sure of whatever it is that Jet’s accusing him of.”
“Okay, but what would you say if I told you that Gabriel Santos tried to kill our brother before?”
“What?” I asked, shocked to my core.
“Yes, your admirer has threatened him on several occasions and even tried to murder him. Our own brother.”
As her words sunk into me, so did the anger. No wonder Jet had disappeared. His life was in danger because that Colombian asshole was after him. And it certainly made sense now that Santos stopped pursuing me. He was trying to kill my brother. Over my dead body.
“The backpacking trip certainly ended with a bang,” I hissed, fury simmering in my chest. “So now what? Do we go after Santos first or look for Jet?”
“If Jet doesn’t want to be found, we won’t find him,” she deadpanned.
“Santos it is,” I said resolutely, picturing his lifeless body in a pool of blood. Shit, why did it bother me so much? He was just a nuisance. Over the years, Gabriel Santos had lurked around me. At D’Arc, he was always there—in the hallways, front and center at gala dinners. He was my polished shadow even before I noticed him. Persistent and annoying.
But something shifted after our encounter at Revelation last year.
He stopped showing up, stopped circling.
It should’ve been a relief. I should’ve felt free now that he’d finally granted me my wish. But instead, it left this hollow, aching silence behind. Like missing a fight you’d been training for. Like reaching for an enemy and finding empty air. It was stupid and shallow and just complicated enough to keep me up most nights.
I told myself it was better this way—cleaner, simpler—but never in a million years had I fathomed that he disappeared because he had murderous intentions toward a member of my family.
“Let’s ditch this transport,” I suggested. “We’re too visible in this.”
“Agreed.”
