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Gambler scoffs. “I thought so too, but they hide it well. I guarantee, 99% of the people on your menu deserved the death you dealt to them. But I’m telling you, not all of them. Me included. They painted my ledger red and told you I committed atrocious acts in order for me to be placed on your menu. The only crimes I committed were for them. They are using us.”
Gabriel turns away from Gambler. His eyes are closed so tightly the scar over his brow turns pink.
“And they have been for centuries. They cut us off from society and make us believe they give a shit about us. All the while, the people that are stuffing your pockets are worse than the ones you kill. Half of the men and women that end up on your menu, were once the Church’s Allies.”
Gabriel begins to pace. He tugs at his hair yanking at the strands. The man bun comes loose, and his golden locs fall around his face and cascade down his back.
“Gabe, what’s wrong?” I step toward him, laying a hand on his arm.
He draws away from me as if my touch is fire. Gambler continues to speak, ignoring the frenzy Gabe is in.
“The people they protect would make your skin crawl. They tell you Pope runs the Church, but that’s not true. When they broke away from the Catholic Church, they didn’t go independent, Beast. They aligned with something much worse.”
At this point, Gabriel is losing his shit. He’s pacing the room like an angry bull and having those conversations in his head with his mother. Although he has always been terrifying, he seemed more human as the night has gone by. However, now he reminds me of exactly what Gambler has called him—a beast.
“You’re lying. Don’t say that.” He growls, smacking himself in the head. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid.
“It’s the truth. I can prove it,” Gambler says loudly over the noise Gabriel is making.
“Shut up. You’re not helping,” I shout down to Gambler. I don’t like the calm look on his face.
The man shrugs casually as if all this is normal. “I’m not trying to.”
Glass being shattered against the wall turns my attention back to Gabe. He’s picking up the picture frames and throwing them.
“Gabriel, look at me.” I approach him slowly as if he’s a wild animal.
When I’m right behind him, he spins around on his feet, grabs me by the neck and yanks me off the ground. My toes are the only thing still brushing the floor.
“Gabe, please,” I croak out, wrapping a hand around his wrist hoping he will let me go.
“You might as well forget it. That red haze got him now,” Gambler says as if he’s bored.
I don’t give a shit what he says. I know my Gabriel is in here. Yes, I started this faux friendship to save my life, but I discovered the real man behind those green eyes. He’s still just a boy with mother issues that they trained to kill. He’s wounded, just like me. He isn’t this Beast they made him.
“Please. Don’t,” I try again to reason with him.
Though I was initially shocked about his hold around my neck, I realize he isn’t choking me. He’s only holding me. He drops his forehead to mine for a brief second before releasing me. I fall to the ground hitting it with a thud.
Gabriel goes back to breaking shit. From my viewpoint on the ground, I can see him storm out of the room and down the hall. The sound of splintering wood and shattered glass following him.
“Why did you do this? What do you gain from this?” I ask from my spot on the floor.
Gambler’s blue eyes soften as he peers down at me, and I recognize the sadness from earlier. The one that reminds me of my father. His gaze goes to the mantle behind me.
“Because I’m a coward, and I want him to finish what I started.”
The ruckus down the hall stops. Gambler’s and my head swing in the direction. From our location in the room, we can’t see anything down the hallway. Suddenly, without a sound, Gabriel appears at the entrance. He stares down at me; his pale eyes bore into mine.
I don’t speak nor make a move toward him. I wish I could read him the way he easily reads the world. I want to know what he’s thinking as he looks so intently at me.
“It’s time, Beast,” Gambler says, drawing Gabriel’s attention.
Gabe turns to the man that has yet to get out of the chair. In one swift move, he pulls a gun from behind his back and aims it at Gambler.
“No,” I shout, but it’s too late.
He fires the gun and the bullet hits Gambler directly in the forehead. The impact knocks his head back. The gun in his lap clatters to the ground, his head falls forward, and his body goes limp. I stare in horror as droplets of blood drip from the wound and down to his shirt.
