Page 35 of Thunder's Reckoning
When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. Too soft. Scraped raw, like it had been wrung dry just to keep her standing.
“There’s a man,” she whispered. “His name is Gabrial Lopez.”
Fuck.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t let on I knew the name. Just nodded slow, like I was takin’ it in for the first time.
“He leads a cartel,” she went on. “But that’s only part of it. He’s wrapped up in a church too. They call themselves The Children of the Flame. They have a compound—remote, private. Later, I was moved to his estate. Fenced in. Patrolled. Armed men on every corner. No one left unless he allowed it.”
My jaw flexed. I’d seen cult shit before. I’d been a kid, no older than Malik, when I slipped outta the one that raised me.
“I was born into it,” she said, her gaze still pinned to the window. “My mother died when I was a baby. She believed… she worshiped the fire. I never knew my father. Gabrial told me I was special, that I was chosen by the flame to be his sacred vessel.”
My stomach turned. There wasn’t nothin’ holy about what was comin’. I felt it like thunder buildin’ over the hills.
“Gabrial would take me for private lessons,” she said, voice cracking thin. “He talked about purity. Obedience. Sacrifice. The privilege of being a chosen mother.” Her throat caught. “I was barely thirteen the first time he came into my room.”
My fists burned from holdin’ them still. I shut my eyes just long enough to choke back the rage. She didn’t need fury. She needed steady.
“I can’t talk about all of it,” she breathed. “Not yet. But when I was fifteen, he bonded me to him in a sacred fire ceremony. After that, I lived in his house.”
Her words spilled faster now, unravelin’ like threads pulled too tight.
“I was never alone. Always watched. I couldn’t sneeze without someone blessing it. I only got out because of Tallis, he knew my mother. He helped me escape. And now… now he’s probably dead.”
Her voice fell into silence. When she finally looked at me—really looked—I saw the question sittin’ raw in her eyes.
Was I still gonna stand here? Or would I back away like everyone else?
I stepped closer instead, slid my hands down her arms, grippin’ just enough to anchor her. “Ain’t nothin’ you said that scares me off.”
“But it should,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand what he’ll do to get us back. I’ve seen him kill people. Innocent people. He doesn’t even blink, Zeke.”
“I don’t give a damn,” I said, voice like steel. “You ain’t goin’ back. Not ever. But I need to know more. The kids—tell me ‘bout them.”
Her arms tightened, bracing for the worst of it. “Zara’s almost five,” she said quietly. “She’s mine… and Gabrial’s.”
That ripped somethin’ outta me. When I did the math in my head, it made me want to tear that bastard limb from limb. Herlip wobbled, but she caught it fast. She’d learned not to show too much.
“Malik is Gabrial’s too, but not mine by blood. His mother tried to kill me, and Gabrial burned her alive in front of everyone. Said the flame demanded sacrifice. I’ve raised Malik since he was four. I’m the only mother he knows, and I love him like he’s mine.”
Twisted didn’t even cover it. Whole thing was nightmare writ in fire and blood. But she’d walked through it, kept those kids alive, and stood here breathin’. That took guts.
I nodded slow. Careful. “I’ll need to tell my club what you told me. You good with that?”
She hesitated. Just a flicker. Then: “Yes.” Like she still couldn’t believe I hadn’t walked out.
I leaned in, dropped my voice low. “You got me now, Sable. Don’t ever forget it.”
My words weren’t comfort. They were a promise. If Gabrial came knockin’, he wasn’t leavin’ breathin’.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I HADN’T MEANTto say that much. Hadn’t meantto let it all spill out like a broken jar of truth, but once I started, I couldn’t stop Now the words hung in the air between us like smoke, thick, bitter, impossible to breathe through.
Zeke hadn’t flinched. Not when I said Gabrial’s name, not when I told him what I was, and what had been done to me. He just stood there. Solid. Unmoving. Like a mountain I didn’t know I deserved.
“You got me now, Sable. Don’t ever forget it.” He’d said, and those words made something in me crack. Not loud. Not visible.Just a hairline fracture along a part of me I’d built walls around years ago.
