But if Gabriel hadn’t killed Anne, then Raphael had, which meant he had very much cared, hated. The relief that it hadn’t been him, the very thing he had longed to believe for so many years, his innocence, didn’t bring the comfort Gabriel had thought it would. It was a relief, yes, but with it came a fresh wave of guilt that if it was Raphael, he should have known. Should have prevented it.

Gabriel reached for Sara, needing to feel her in his arms, wanting her hands likewise on him. She came into his embrace from the side, wrapping one arm around his front, the other around his back, burying her face in his shoulder. Her body was soft, warm, petite alongside his, and he felt it again, that unmistakable swelling of emotion in his chest.

He was in love with her.

Yet she deserved so much more than him, a damaged burned-out shell of a man, with guilt that clawed and ate at him, and a control that vacillated depending on the day.

“How’s Rochelle?” she asked, head still in his shirt.

It was that concern, that compassion, that intensity of heart and soul and feeling that he admired, adored, in Sara, and it was the very thing that would crush her if he let their relationship go any further. There was no future for them. He had to acknowledge that. Even more so now that he knew about Raphael.

“She was doing okay. She was awake when her parents got there. She seemed confused and embarrassed more than anything else.” Gabriel stroked Sara’s hip. “I feel so damn bad about what happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Indirectly, it was. He knew that. Accepted responsibility. Hated it, and wanted to fix it. But didn’t know how. If he thought for one minute he could get a straight answer, he would go to a demon, like Alex, and ask if they knew how he could end his punishment. But he suspected Alex would either mock him or give him false answers for his own personal amusement. He had distanced himself from all the other demons, including Marguerite, who he had once considered a friend. He hadn’t spoken to her since she’d betrayed him and lied during his trial.

“You need to stop doing that,” she said.

“Doing what?”

“Your silence is your denial. You don’t say anything when you disagree with me. It’s something I’ve noticed. Obviously you don’t like conflict any more than I do. But in this case, you are wrong. You’re not responsible for whatever is wrong with Rochelle. She imagined a relationship, and she obviously has some serious issues that have nothing to do with you.”