Page 150 of Deadfall

70

GABRIEL

I was in a dark place. Not literally, the room was actually well-lit by fluorescent bulbs that hummed overhead. But, I couldn’t stop replaying the forest. My sister. Seven. I went through every second trying to see where I could have saved him. I itched to head out and search for him. I wanted to stage a rescue so badly I ached with it.

And then there was Angel. He pissed me off. I didn’t know for sure what was going on, but I knew since it involved me handcuffed to a fucking pipe, it couldn’t be good. All in all, I was in a sour mood that worsened by the second.

The door opened, and my shoulders relaxed slightly as Emersyn came back in. I scanned her for injuries, but she looked okay and only had a thoughtful frown on her face. The door shut and we were alone again. She stood and frowned at the wall, obviously very lost in thought.

“Angel, Dante, whatever his name is, works for Albatron,” she said finally.

“What?” I growled.

“Yeah, I just spoke with him.”

“With Albatron?” I asked incredulously. “What the fuck does he want?”

At that Emersyn frowned even more, then barked a laugh that was far from humorous.

“He wants to take us home.”

I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I—”

We both apparently needed a moment to absorb that information. I was surprised when she came over and sat down against the wall within reach. She had the entire room, and the fact that she chose to sit next to me was…nice. She looked lost in thought, and there was a small furrow in between her eyes. I let her be for a bit while she worked through whatever troubled her.

“Are you afraid to go home?” I asked.

Emersyn appeared taken aback by the question. “Afraid isn’t the right word. I’ve dreamt about being reunited with my father for years. Sometimes it was all I could think about. But, what if—” She cut off and looked away. I realized she was embarrassed by whatever worry plagued her.

“What?” I prompted.

Emersyn picked at the concrete and refused to look at me.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Before I could say anything she huffed a laugh. “That’s so stupid, right? I should be worried about so many other things, and instead I’m worried about whether or not he’ll take one look at me and not recognize me.”

I wasn’t good at pep talks, but I reached out my hand and set it over hers. Those stormy eyes jumped to mine, the glint of vulnerability only made them look more vast.

“That’s not possible,” I said gently. “I was there the day your father found out you were alive. It was like his entire world stopped and restarted. He put everything on hold for you—”

“I know,” she interrupted fervently. “What if he regrets that?”

“Why would he?”

“Because, I feel like a coward.” Tears edged her eyes. “I could have reached out—I almost did—once. What if he resents me for that?”

“Why didn’t you?”

At first I thought she wouldn’t answer as she glared down at the floor.

“I was forced to choose,” she said quietly. “Riggs made me choose.”

“Who is he, and is he dead?” I asked flatly.

That brought a small smile to her lips, and she told me briefly about some dude that was the biggest asshole I’d ever heard of. If I thought I’d been angry earlier, the rage I felt after her story was worse. She finally put me out of my misery and stopped talking about him.

Luckily, it all ended with the story of how she killed him. I made her repeat that part in detail, because it made me feel marginally less furious. The retelling had spiked her anger, and she glared across the room.