Gael strayed his eyes away from the door where Angela just left to the tube of hand cream she always kept on her nightstand. He scoffed. "My hand will never be as good as you," he muttered to himself before letting out a sigh.
Staring at the ceiling, his thoughts went back to their conversation earlier, and he briefly closed his eyes. Images of Angela blindfolded and hands tied together with a black cloth, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded to be let go flashed in his head.
His jaw tightened as he hated himself for not being better for her. He was supposed to take care of her, not remind her of that psychopath, and yet he bound her up, depriving her of her freedom just like what was done to her. Angela said she didn't even think about what Leos did to her, and he believed her, but it didn't take away the fact that he still tied her hands together and was stern about it.
All of a sudden, Gael wasn't thinking clearly anymore. In his head, he saw that he's the one torturing her. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He rolled out of bed, rushed to the bathroom, and belched out the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Acid reached its way to his throat the moment he stopped which only caused him to vomit again.
Fûck. He didn't even get sick like this when he tortured men in the Bunk's basement or in their warehouses in Italy. He didn't particularly like inflicting pain on people, but it was a means that needed to be done in exchange for something valuable. Like his father told him, he always got what he wanted. It was just one of the ways to do it.
But the image of him hurting Angela made him wish he could puke everything out of his system, desperate to get it out of his head. He could never do that to her. What happened earlier—what they did earlier was different. She gave consent, and she liked it—he convinced himself to stop the ugly thoughts rearing in his head.
When he was finally done, he cleaned up, brushed his teeth, and gargled some mouthwash while pushing those nasty thoughts aside. Taking cleansing breaths, he walked out of the bathroom.
Gael checked on his phone and sent someone a text.
[ Gael: Update on Leos and the video? I didn't pay you a fuck ton for not doing your job. You don't want to owe me. ]
It was three in the morning, and he didn't care if he woke that person up. He needed good news. He clenched his jaw and tossed his phone on the nightstand.
A flash of light struck outside the window, and then a shattering of glass broke the silence from outside the bedroom. He snapped his head to the direction of the sound, and before he could move, a frightening roar of thunder crackled in the sky.
Angela.
Gael didn't think. He dashed out and headed towards her, his feet stopping before the island counter in the middle of his kitchen. She wasn't there.
"Angel?" His heart rammed against his ribcage when he couldn't see her anywhere. The soft light in the kitchen was on, and the electric kettle was on too, the water bubbling to boiling point before the latch popped back up to its place, indicating that it was done heating the water. Where the hell was she?
He looked around and was just about to walk away to look for her in other rooms when he heard a very faint mumbling not far from where he stood. He froze, his ears perking while trying to pick up the sound to see where it was coming from. The sky had started to cry a heavy rain or snow, and another thunder broke out.
It seemed like the noise came from behind the island. "Angel?" he called as he stepped forward. When he rounded the corner of the counter, his gaze fell to Angela, crouched on the floor with her hands covering her ears. A broken mug lay near her feet; her smallest toe got a cut and was bleeding. His heart dropped to his stomach seeing her in this state. The moments from Hillberry Isle during the storm back then barged in his head.
Gael bent down in front of her, lifting her chin with two fingers. "Hey…" His brows furrowed, concern written all over his face.
Tears rimmed her eyes, and her mouth was moving as though she was reciting something to herself. He couldn't understand what they were, but she did the same back then too. She continued to utter incomprehensible sounds under her shaky breath as her eyes met his, but it didn't look like she was really seeing him. Her stare looked empty—it's as if she wasn't aware that he was in front of her.
His chest tightened. He didn't like seeing her like this. He didn't like it back then, and he certainly didn't like it now. It's like she's lost somewhere he couldn't reach her. He pushed her hair behind her ear. "Baby, what's wrong?"
Another crackle of thunder boomed outside so loud it startled her. Angela jumped into him, her arms tightly wrapping around his neck. Gael instinctively caught her, whispering to her ear as he stroked her hair and back, "It's okay. I'm here…"
He never knew why she was so afraid of thunder and lightning. And looking at her right now, he could only guess that something in the past must have caused this.
She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, and he felt hot liquid on his skin. Tears. He hated whoever did this to her. At the moment, he could only tighten his hold around her, and she did the same.
"Everything will be okay…" he told her.
"Please don't leave." Her voice was muffled when she spoke between sniffles. "Promise you won't leave. I'll be good. Just don't leave me, please."
Gael's brows deeply furrowed. Was she that scared? He kissed the side of her head and reassured her, "Never. I won't leave you. I promise."
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