[Kendall]
“Don’t leave so soon, fatty,” he mumbles against my ear, his breath hot and sour on my neck, sending a shiver of revulsion through me. His hand moves up, rough fingers grazing my skin before his forearm presses against my throat. My vision darkens at the edges, and panic explodes inside me. He’s going to strangle me, and the realization hits like ice in my veins.
I do the only thing I can think of. I bite him, sinking my teeth into his skin until I taste iron, bitter and metallic. He yelps, his grip loosening just enough for me to stumble forward, the world spinning as I barely manage to keep my balance. I feel something hot streak past my cheek, a sharp sting flaring as it slices my skin, but I don’t have time to think about it. I just need to get out of here. Now.
I yank the sliding door open, heart pounding, my breath coming in panicked gasps. I hear his heavy footsteps right behind me, and just as I’m about to scream, a cold, unyielding metal presses against my cheek.
I freeze, my scream dying in my throat. Then I see Camden’s eyes, fierce and blazing, inches from my face. He presses a finger to his lips and whispers, “Shh.”
Relief crashes over me, my body sagging as if my bones have turned to water. But before I can even process it, Camden steps past me, his entire body coiled with a terrifying, lethal energy.
I collapse, knees hitting the floor hard, the pain barely registering as I gasp for breath, trembling from head to toe. It’s him. It’s Camden. I’m safe. But he doesn’t stop to reassure me. Instead, he strides inside, every inch of him radiating danger. All I hear as I crawl onto the terrace, struggling to calm my racing heart, is a low, ominous whooshing sound-a sickeningly familiar sound that drags me back to the first time I’d heard it, the sound Marco’s gun made when he shot Bruno in the face.
My breathing hitches, panic clawing at my throat as I army-crawl toward the terrace railing. My palms scrape against the rough wood as I drag myself upright, but before I can steady myself, hands clamp down on my shoulders, pulling me back.
I scream, my vision blurring, and the terror rises until I’m on the verge of blacking out.
“It’s okay, principessa, it’s me,” Camden says gruffly, his arms coming around me. The warmth of his chest against my cheek, his steady heartbeat under my ear, is the only thing that grounds me. I turn, clutching at him, my breath hitching in high-pitched, uncontrollable sobs.
I break. The weight of it all crashes down on me-the fear, the adrenaline, the horrible certainty that I was going to die, that I would never see Camden again.
Camden holds me close, his hands gentle but firm, as he whispers softly into my ear, his voice low and soothing, each word wrapping around me like a lifeline. “I’ll die before I ever let anyone hurt you again, principessa.”
His words echo in my mind, a quiet promise that eases the terror just enough. The world tilts, darkness creeping in around the edges, and then everything goes black.
When I come to, my head feels heavy, and I blink slowly, taking in the muted light in the room. Camden’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his face tight with worry as he holds my hand. I’m parched, my throat feeling raw, and I manage to whisper, “Can I have some water?”
He doesn’t hesitate. Instantly, he holds a glass to my lips, guiding the straw so I can drink. The cool water soothes the dryness, and I take a few greedy sips, feeling it trickle down my throat, grounding me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my voice hoarse, and Camden swallows, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Are you all right?” he asks, and I blink, struggling to focus, to assess the strange numbness in my arm. I try to flex the fingers of my left hand, but there’s a sharp, throbbing pain, like something’s caught. My heart sinks as I realize something’s wrong.
“My shoulder-” I whisper, fear creeping back in.
Camden’s face tightens, his eyes flickering with worry. “I think it’s dislocated,” he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m going to ask you to be brave for me, principessa. Can you do that? Can you be my brave girl?”
I nod, licking my dry lips, bracing myself, even though a chill of dread settles in my stomach. The next moment, Camden takes my hand in his, his grip firm but comforting, and then he yanks, popping my shoulder back into place. The pain is searing, blinding, and I scream, my vision exploding in black spots. For a second, I think I might black out again, but I hold on, clutching at Camden’s hand.
“Fuck,” I gasp once I can breathe again, the words slipping out as the pain begins to ebb, replaced by a dull ache. Camden’s fingers tighten around mine.
“Can you feel this?” he asks, his tone steady but tense.
I nod, still trembling, but relief floods me as I flex my fingers, feeling the sensation return. The pain is better, manageable. “It’s better,” I croak, the words barely a whisper, and Camden’s brows draw together, his green eyes piercing as he searches my face.
“We’ll see a doctor,” he says quickly. “As soon as we can.”
I lift a shaky hand, scratching at my face, only to feel the rough texture of a bandage on my cheekbone. The memories slam into me all at once-the closet, the man’s hands around my throat, Camden bursting in to save me. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the frantic beat of my heart, to push back the fear that lingers like a shadow.
“I’m okay,” I say finally, my fingers tracing the bandage as if to remind myself. “I’m alive,” I whisper, like I need to hear the words to believe them.
“You’re okay,” Camden replies, but his voice wavers, raw with emotion. He looks away for a moment, his jaw clenched, and then he speaks again, his tone barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, principessa.”
Before I can respond, he lays his head gently in my lap, his shoulders slumping, and I reach out, my fingers threading through his hair.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Camden. You saved me.” My voice trembles, but the words are steady, true.
“I almost wasn’t here in time,” he murmurs, his words muffled against the blanket. “I shouldn’t have left you here alone.”
“I’m okay,” I say softly, stroking his hair, trying to reassure him. “I’m alive because of you.”
For a moment, Camden is still, his shoulders tense, but then he shudders, and I realize, shocked, that he’s shaking. The sight sends a pang of fear through me, a gnawing worry that maybe this has unsettled him in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more, that maybe something happened while he was away-something he isn’t telling me.
I hold him close, trying to comfort him as best as I can, but an uneasy feeling settles over me, a dark thought that I can’t push away: what if the real danger hasn’t even begun?