Kendall
As soon as Camden leaves, I run upstairs to Elora’s room, banging wildly on the door.
She comes to the door with her hair mussed and her eyes squinted since she hasn’t put in her contacts yet, glaring at me.
“It’s seven in the goddamn morning, Kendall,” she complains, but then she sees the look on my face and stills. “What happened?”
“Camden just left,” I babble. “He went after Marco.”
Her green eyes widen. “Oh no, he fucking didn’t,” she curses, walking past me and running almost right into Dante. “How could you let him leave?”
Dante shrugs. “I’m not his keeper.”
“Don’t give me that,” she hisses. “You know going after Marco right now is suicide-”
“Don’t claim to tell me what I know, Elora Andretti,” Dante says in a low voice, channeling his capo attitude, and I swallow hard.
I don’t want Elora to get into trouble.
“We’re just worried,” I explain, and Dante’s face softens.
“I know, but you both know that Camden does what he wants. I couldn’t have stopped him if I wanted to.”
I know that’s true, but at the same time, I can’t help being a little angry at Dante for giving him the information about Marco.
Elora sees the look on my face and turns to me, putting an arm around me.
“Listen, Kendall. Camden’s an idiot for going off like this but he’s also really good,” she tries to assure me. “You’ve seen him in action. He’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that,” I whisper. “You don’t know that he’s going to be okay, and I’m here, pregnant with his baby!” My voice raises into an almost shout.
Mia comes out of the bedroom, looking tired but concerned. She takes one look at me and Elora and puts together what’s going on.
She takes my arm. “Come with me,” she says. “Let’s talk.”
I can hear Elora still arguing with Dante and think how bold she is to argue with a man who’s as powerful as he is and also has protected us all this time, but I can’t worry about my best friend right now.
All I can do is worry about the father of my child.
“Every time Dante goes out on a job, I worry that he’s going to never come home,” Mia says quietly, leading me to her bedroom and sitting me down on the bed.
I’m nearly hyperventilating and she keeps rubbing my back and I think that’s the only thing that keeps me from falling apart.
“I haven’t told him,” I whisper. “I haven’t told him how much I-” my voice breaks and tears start to roll down my face.
“You love him,” Mia says, and it isn’t a question.
I hitch in a breath. “Is it that obvious?”
She smiles. “It is to me. I’ve been there.”
“But Dante’s crazy about you,” I argue, trying to think of anything else but how Camden might die not knowing how much I adore him.
Mia snorts. “He is now. But for the longest time, he was just using me,” she admits.
My eyes widen. “What do you mean?”
She waves a hand. “It’s a long story, but I’ll just put it this way: I fell first, and hard. I was seventeen years old the first time I met Dante, and I was lost.”
I swallow hard, understanding. “I feel the same way about Camden, but I was probably even younger,” I chuckle.
“They’re tough guys,” Mia explains. “Wiseguys. It takes them time to figure out what love means, how it’s different than hatred and death. They experience that all the time, and it’s hard for them to change.”
“Camden won’t change,” I mourn. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about any of that, I just want him to be safe.”
“He’s going to be okay,” Mia says.
“How can you know that?” I ask.
“I don’t,” she admits. “But we just have to hope.”
I have so much hope that it hurts me. I hope that Camden comes home alive. I hope that Camden is a part of this baby’s life the way he says he will be. I hope that Camden tells me, one day, that he loves me.
“Hope hurts,” I sob, covering my face with my hands, and Mia hugs me to her.
“I know it does, honey,” she says, and I bury my face in her shoulder and start to cry.
Camden doesn’t return for hours and hours, and all I do is curl up in Mia and Dante’s bed and cry. Elora comes to check on me a few times, trying to be reassuring, but I can see the worry on her face. She’s just as upset as I am.
Finally, the intercom buzzes through Mia and Dante’s room and I scramble out of bed, rushing down the stairs.
There’s a man standing there, one that I don’t recognize, with wild eyes, covered in blood. His arms and shirt are soaked with it.
“Call Jimmy Sawbones,” he croaks, and Dante puts an arm on his shoulder.
“Angelo? Where are you hit?” he asks.
Angelo swallows. “I’m not,” he says. “It’s Camden.”
That’s when I black out and hit the floor hard.