Chapter 38 – Part 1
POV Gabriel
His hand was still clenched around my wrist.
Not aggressive. Defensive.
I held his gaze without blinking.
"Let go," I said calmly.
He didn't move.
"She told you no," he repeated.
I glanced at Avery.
She was panting slightly, her cheeks flushed, arms still wrapped tightly around the chest and the notebook. She avoided looking at me.
"This isn't your problem," I said, stepping closer to him.
A brief smirk crossed his face.
"The moment you drag her by force, it becomes your problem."
I felt anger rising. But I kept my cool.
"You don't know what's happening," I said through gritted teeth.
"And you especially don't know what you're getting into."
"I know enough," he replied quietly.
"She refuses to follow you, and I won't let her leave with someone like you."
Avery straightened slightly behind us.
"Stop," she said firmly.
Neither of us moved.
"She needs to go back," I insisted. "Now. This isn't a debate."
"Don't even think about it," he shot back.
"Not while I'm here."
His words hit hard. Too hard.
I clenched my fists.
"You think you know me?" I said.
"No," he replied.
"But I know enough about people like you to have an idea."
A tense silence settled between us.
I could feel the gaze of the neighborhood, even if unseen. The yellow tape. The house. The danger still too close.
Avery stepped forward.
"Stop, both of you. I'm not going anywhere until I finish here."
I stared at her.
"You have no idea what you're risking."
"That's true," she said.
"And I'm taking it anyway."
I realized then.
It wasn't fear I saw in her eyes.
It was determination.
I slowly released my wrist from Jackson's grip.
Not because he forced me.
Because continuing like this wouldn't change anything.
"Fine," I said coldly.
"But I'm staying with you, just in case…"
I left the sentence hanging.
Jackson finally let go of my arm.
"She won't be alone," he said simply.
I looked away, jaw tight.
For the first time in a long while, I felt out of control.
And that…
That scared me the most.
---
We could have stopped there.
Left. Pretended everything was under control.
But nothing was.
Under the too-curious gaze of the neighborhood, Avery finally spoke, her voice lower, tenser than before.
"I need to go back and get something. Just a minute."
She glanced at the houses around us, the half-drawn curtains, the silhouettes behind the windows.
"After what just happened, someone surely called the police. And they need to know what went down here."
Jackson and I exchanged a brief look.
She was right.
We both nodded.
She started heading back to the house when I stepped forward.
"I'm coming with you."
She turned to me immediately.
"No."
Categorical.
Non-negotiable.
And before I could insist, she was already walking toward the entrance.
I watched her disappear behind the door.
Then silence fell.
Heavy.
Too heavy.
I was alone with Jackson.
Finally… alone.
If we ignored the dozens of eyes watching us from the surrounding houses.
He waited until Avery was far enough.
Then faced me, hiding none of his hostility.
"Now that we're alone…"
His voice had changed. Harder. Sharper.
"I'd like to know what you want from her."
I met his gaze.
"To protect her."
A humorless laugh escaped his throat.
"Funny way to protect someone. Especially coming from someone like you."
I clenched my jaw.
"I know you don't like me. But don't judge based on what people say about…"
"People like you," he finished.
"If you want, those are just stories. Prejudices."
"Prejudices that turn out to be true."
I stepped closer to him.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes. Seen the number of bodies found since you arrived."
I froze.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb. You've been on our territory for almost two weeks. And the bodies keep piling up."
"That's impossible. I've only been here a week."
"We felt your arrival. Even if it took time to confirm."
Blood drained from my face.
Two weeks?
Two weeks ago, I was in LA.
So that would mean—
I looked at my watch.
Avery had been gone for too long.
Far too long.
I wasn't listening to him anymore.
I turned toward the house.
"She told you to wait outside," he said, grabbing my shoulder.
"And we're not done talking."
I shrugged his hand off sharply.
"I don't have time for your accusations. She's taking too long."
He saw my expression.
And understood.
He followed me.
We entered the house.
And there—
Everything stopped.
Avery wasn't touching the floor.
Her back was pressed against the hallway wall, head thrown back, fingers clenched in the air as if searching for something to hold onto.
But there was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Her feet barely brushed against the wall, her heels scraping the paint with dry, uneven noises. The chest had slipped from her arms and lay open on the floor. The notebook lay a little farther away.
And around her neck—
Nothing visible.
But her skin was hollowing. As if under the pressure of invisible fingers.
"Avery!"
My voice escaped me, raw, animalistic.
I didn't remember moving.
Yet I was already in front of her.
But the air around her was… wrong. Dense. Heavy. That icy sensation I knew too well.
The sensation of death.
---