Chapter 133 - The Sheer Craziness (1/2)
It all feels like the world has slowed down to a single moment: Miguel's body arching backward as he's yanked away, the back of his head hitting the table. She will never forget that sound, of bone smashing against something harder. She will never forget how Miguel let out a sort of whimper, from pain or surprise, she'll never know. All she knew is how the whole thing unfolded and shocked her to the core. And in the middle of it all is Gabriel, who, in his panic after what he presumed to be a timely swooping in to save her, throws his arms around her to calm her down.
”It's alright, Claire,” Gabriel whispers. ”It's alright. Miguel and I will…”
Yet Claire screams, and struggles away from him to point a finger at the person on the floor. Only then does Gabriel turn around and see where Miguel is—and his jaw drops. He stands there stunned, looking at his brother, at the blood crawling on the marble floor, and in that maddeningly terrible split second he connects the dots: he only grabbed his brother's collar just to get him away from Claire, who had been utterly terrified; he remembers how he had savagely done so with all his strength, forgetting for a moment that this man was Miguel.
She mȯȧns, ”He's…He's bleeding…”
Her words bring Gabriel back to the present. By then people had arrived, helping Miguel sit up. Gabriel screams, ”Don't touch him! You'll hurt him more!” So everyone takes a step back and gives him the floor.
Gabriel kneels down beside his brother and gently touches the back of his head. His heart leaps in his throat—he feels the warm gush of blood. ”Jesus….” He looks around, and sees his people gaping at the sight of them.
”An ambulance is on its way,” Dale says, appearing out of nowhere, his voice trembling.
”No,” he mutters. ”We can't wait for that.” He looks at Miguel's face, who finally seems peaceful. Gabriel can't yet wrap around his head the realization that he might have killed his brother. Even if it seemed warranted. Even if that was never his intention; he only wanted to pry him away from Claire. Why did you force my hand, Migs? Tears peep out of the corners of his eyes. I'll make this right, he mutters.
Claire has also knelt beside him, and she's crying. She touches Miguel's cheek, muttering, ”I'm sorry,” over and over.
”It's not your fault,” Gabriel says. Then using both his arms to prop his brother's body up, he barks orders through gritted teeth. ”Help me get him to a vehicle. We can't wait for an ambulance. Have the car ready out front!”
Some of the bodyguards help him carry Miguel, while others have already run outside, coordinating traffic, opening the doors for them. Thankfully, Gabriel's Benz SUV is already waiting outside, its doors open.
”Claire,” Gabriel says out loud, as they struggle to place Miguel on the seat in a comfortable position.
”I'm here,” Claire responds, obviously trying to steel her resolve, although her voice cracks. The crowd parts to give way to her. ”I won't leave you.”