Chapter Twenty-Five

**GABRIEL'S POV**

I threw the head of Samantha’s father to the side, the weight of it heavy in my hand before it thudded into the sand with a dull sound. I barely registered the blood that covered me, the thick scent of it sticking in my nose, or the metallic taste that clung to my lips. My mind was numb, almost as though I was outside of my body, watching myself move through the aftermath. The roar of the ocean was the only sound that cut through the numbness, drowning out the rest of the world as I approached Oliver.
He lay sprawled on the beach, lifeless. His skin, once vibrant and warm, was now ashen. His lips, usually so soft, were dry and cracked, and the gaping wound in his chest had clotted, leaving a dark, jagged line where life had once flowed freely. I couldn’t breathe. I stumbled forward, the weight of my grief crushing me, making it hard to drag air into my lungs.
This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be dead. My mate couldn’t be dead.
I dropped to my knees beside him, pulling his limp body into my arms. His head lolled against my chest, and I held him tighter, my hands shaking as I stroked his hair. Tears burned my eyes, and for the first time since this nightmare had begun, I let them fall freely. They streamed down my cheeks and dripped onto his lifeless face, but he didn’t stir. He didn’t open his eyes and smile that soft, mischievous smile that made everything else fade away. He was just…gone.
My chest ached, a pain so deep and all-encompassing that I thought it might consume me. I bent my head, pressing my forehead to his as if somehow I could will my life into him as if my love alone could be enough to bring him back. But the seconds ticked by, and still, he didn’t move.
I should have known better. I should have walked away when I had the chance. None of this—Oliver’s death, Samantha’s death—none of it would have happened if I had just stayed out of his life. My love had brought nothing but destruction. If I hadn’t followed him to New York, if I hadn’t refused to let him go, maybe he would still be alive. Maybe Samantha would still be alive.
Despite everything, despite the brokenness I felt inside, a cruel twist of jealousy tightened in my chest at the thought of Oliver and Samantha together. They could have been happy. They could have had the life they were supposed to have. But even now, the idea of Oliver with anyone else made me sick. I hated myself for it, for still clinging to that irrational jealousy when everything else had already fallen apart.
Samantha’s lifeless body flashed in my mind—her cold, empty eyes staring at nothing, her blood pooling on the airport floor. I clenched my fists, trying to push the image away, but it clung to me, taunting me with the reality of what had happened.
“If you keep squeezing me so tight, I might not be able to breathe, you know…”
My heart nearly stopped. I jerked back, my breath catching in my throat as I looked down. Oliver’s eyes fluttered open, his brilliant blue gaze slowly focusing on me. His lips quirked into a faint smile, and he blinked up at me as if waking from a long dream.
“Oliver?” My voice cracked, disbelief flooding my senses.
Fresh tears welled up, and before I knew it, I was kissing him, desperate to feel the warmth of his lips against mine, to assure myself that this was real, that he was alive. He kissed me back, slow and gentle, though I could tell he was weak. His arms looped around my neck, pulling me closer as if he could feel the desperation in my touch, the fear that I had nearly lost him for good.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered when we broke apart, his breath hot against my lips. “All this wouldn’t have happened if I had listened to you.”
I shook my head. “No, don’t say that…”
“I should’ve listened,” he pressed on, his eyes half-lidded, struggling to stay open. “You wouldn’t have had to be thrown into that filthy place… wouldn’t have had your name dragged through the mud.”
I winced the memory of the cell and the humiliation of being paraded as a criminal flashing in my mind.
“It’s what I deserved,” I murmured. “If I had stayed away, back at Crystal Cove… If I hadn’t pushed you for more…”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Gabriel. Don’t ever forget that.”
He groaned then, his body tensing in my arms. Panic surged through me, and I gently laid him down, pressing my hand to his chest. His breathing hitched, his muscles tightening as if he was in unbearable pain.
“What’s happening?” I asked, terror lacing my voice.
Before my eyes, the gash on his chest—the one that had clotted and signaled his death—began to heal. The skin knitted itself back together, the dark lines fading until there was nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. His cheeks flushed with color, and his eyes brightened, the pale blue irises turning vibrant again. I blinked, unable to process what I was seeing. My hands hovered over him, unsure whether to touch him or not. Was this some kind of cruel illusion? Was my mind playing tricks on me, trying to convince me that something good had finally happened after all the devastation?
“Is this a dream?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Oliver smiled—a broad, bright smile that made my heart ache. He sat up, brushing the sand from his clothes as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t been on the verge of death only moments ago.
“What… what just happened?” I asked, my voice shaking. “I thought you were going to die.”
“The goddess wouldn’t allow her chosen to be killed so unceremoniously,” he replied his voice light, almost teasing.
“The goddess?” I repeated, staring at him in disbelief.
He nodded. “Yeah, I uh… We’re a unit now. Me and her.”
I gaped at him. “What?”
Oliver laughed, a sound so carefree and foreign amid everything that it jarred me. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ll explain everything later. For now… let’s just enjoy the time we have.”
He reached for my hand, his fingers warm and steady against mine, and despite the chaos still swirling around us, I found myself smiling. Oliver was alive. Against all odds, he was still here, and for that moment, that was enough.
Oliver pulled me down into an embrace and I willingly followed him down into the sand, and when he claimed my lips with his for the second time, I opened my mouth and fed him my tongue. The near-death experience having exposed me to how fleeting love could be. How strong get fickle. I flipped him so I hovered over him, the moonlight casting a shadow on his face, I leaned down and kissed him. I trailed kisses down his neck, savoring the moment as I memorized his body with my tongue and fingers. And right there, under the moonlight, my teeth sunk into his skin, marking him as mine before the moon goddess.