Clairessa’s POV
Gabriel walked ahead of me as we entered the villa, his broad shoulders tense, his entire body still radiating anger.
"Gabriel," I called after him.
He stopped but didn’t turn around.
I quickened my pace, reaching out to wrap my fingers around his elbow. He was warm, his muscles rigid beneath my touch. Slowly, I turned him to face me, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might shatter.
His face—God, his face—was a mess of bruises and fresh blood. A cut on his brow trickled crimson down his cheek.
I reached up instinctively, brushing my fingers over the cut.
He flinched. Pulled away. As though my touch burned.
A deep ache spread through my chest. He wouldn’t even let me comfort him.
Without saying a word, he strode to the bar, grabbing a glass with
