Chapter Text
“Where is he” Nathan spat out between ragged breaths, his chest searing with blinding pain, “where the fuck is he!”
—
The world came back to Nathan in jagged shards as consciousness flickered in and out like a dying bulb. He had only seen the world in flashes before the darkness reclaimed his mind: Arran's face, grey eyes full of sorrow; Celia’s voice harsh and loud; Nesbitt's frantic pacing.
There was something wrong. The chair next to Nathan was empty. He always sat by his bed whenever Nathan was injured. He was always there gripping his hand. Why wasn’t he there?
“Gabriel?” Nathan's dehydrated voice came out cracked and brittle.
Three sets of eyes snapped on to him at once, but there should have been four.
Nathan tried to speak again, but the words dried up in his mouth as he saw the look in their faces, an anguish so strong radiated from them that even Celia’s eyebrows were creased in concern.
Dread seemed to stab Nathan in the stomach, twisting deeper and deeper until it could draw blood.
“Celia, where's Gabriel?”
It was as if Nathan’s ribs enclosed in on his heart, constricting, crushing, collapsing when Celia's words sullenly slipped from her mouth and permanently engraved themselves into his bones.
“The hunters have Gabriel, we were too late to get to him before they went through the cut”