Page 83 of The Beast

“Maybe not. But I got more information than just Webb’s address.” Dekker’s good eye gleams. “I got names. Dates. Details of other jobs the little girl’s daddy commissioned. Real nasty shit. The kind of stuff that would put Sterling Hart away for the rest of his miserable life.”

I look at Gabriel, and I’m certain he realizes it, too. My father’s crimes extend far beyond what he did to Gabriel and me.

“Talk,” Gabriel says. “Tell us everything. And maybe—maybe—you leave this place alive.”

Dekker smiles that bloody smile. “Now we’re negotiating.”

An hour later, we emerge from that room with Webb’s address, a list of my father’s crimes that turns my stomach, and the beginnings of a plan. Leo and Ruby are staying behind, waiting for their liaison at the FBI to send a team to take the vile prick away.

We walk back to the car in silence, and I don’t push Gabe. I figure he’s got as much to think about as I do. Not just the confirmation that Sterling Hart ordered his torture—but the why. The casual cruelty of it. The way my father wanted to destroy not just Gabriel’s life, but his last moments of consciousness.

After a few moments, I reach for his hand. He lets me take it, but his fingers don’t curl around mine.

“Gabe.”

He stops walking. Turns to face me. And the shattered look on his face just about breaks my heart.

“Talk to me,” I whisper, forcing the words past the tears gathering in my throat.

“He did this because of me,” he says, his voice low and wrecked. “Because I loved you. Because I wasn’t worthy of you.” His laugh is bitter, hollow.

“My father is a monster.” I step closer. “What he thinks about worthiness means nothing. Less than nothing.”

“But he’s right, isn’t he?” Gabriel’s voice cracks. “I spent five years believing you betrayed me. I came back to destroy you.” He pulls his hand from mine, then runs it through his hair. “How am I any better than him?”

“Because my father never bothered to know you. He saw Elias Grimm’s son—a name, a threat—and decided you were the enemy. He never saw you.”

He makes a scoffing sound and starts walking again. I grab his sleeve and pull him to a stop. “Dammit, listen to me. You believed the lie he told you. But you had evidence. It was fucked up and fake and horrible, but it was tangible. My father played you. It’s not even close to the same.”

He says nothing. He doesn’t have to. The pain on his face says it all.

“Dammit, Gabe.” I grab his face and force him to meet my eyes. “Don’t you get it? When you saw the truth, you chose to believe me. And now you’re standing right here, hurting for what was done to both of us.”

“I want to kill him.” The words are raw, torn from somewhere deep. “Your father. I want to watch him suffer the way I suffered.”

“I know.” I press my forehead to his. “I know. And we’ll figure out what to do with him. Together. But not like this. Not while your soul is bleeding.”

Gabriel’s breath shudders out of him. For a long moment, we just stand there—foreheads touching, breathing together, two broken people trying to figure out how to be whole.

“Day by day,” he finally whispers.

“Day by day.”

When we pull apart, Leo is waiting by the car, giving us space but clearly ready to move.

“Webb?” Gabriel asks.

“Ruby’s coordinating with our people. We’ll have him within forty-eight hours.”

Gabriel nods. Then he looks at me—really looks, the way he used to before everything went wrong.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

Home. His underground apartment beneath the city. The place where we’re trying to rebuild something from the ashes.

I take his hand. And this time, his fingers curl around mine.