Page 59 of In the Shadows

“You’re not lying here moping all day, love.” I pry the pillow away from her and find her staring up at me with so much contempt it rivals the men we kill in the basement. Jesus. We really have met our match with this girl.

“For the love of God, can you just give me one day?” She glowers at me. “I’m not a fucking show pony. I’m a human with feelings and emotions, all of which are stepped on daily by you. In the last month, I’ve lost my father, been torn from my life, found out I’m meant to be marrying one of the most twisted men in the city, woke up here with the four most infamous members of the underworld, and have been locked in this room more often than not. I’m never allowed to be alone. There’s always one of you lurking like you think I’m going to run away at any second. And more than one of you is giving me severe whiplash.” By the time she’s finished, her chest is heaving and tears fill her eyes, something I’m not prepared for. “And this stupid cast is itchy as hell.” For some reason, that’s what sets her off into rough sobs.

I stare at her for a moment, because women’s emotions aren’t exactly my strong suit, before I make a quick decision to scoop her up, holding her tight against my chest as her tears stain my crisp white shirt.

Every sob, every tear, is another crack in the heart I was sure didn’t exist, but she’s made it beat again. She’s forced life into an organ that hasn’t felt anything for as long as I can remember.

“Come on, love. It’s okay,” I whisper against her hair. I take a seat on the edge of the bed, allowing me to lift one of my arms from around her to force her chin up so she has to look at me. “I know this has been a difficult adjustment for you, Camilla, and you’ve handled it better than anyone I know would have. But I won’t let you sit here and wallow in your own self-pity. I’m sorry, but I won’t.”

“Bishop,” she sobs. “Please just go away. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“See you like what?” I question. “Human?”

“Yes.” Her hiccuped sobs shake her entire body, and I’m beginning to worry she’s going to break another rib with the power of them. “I can’t appear weak with you. That’s how I get myself killed. You forget I know how this world works. I’ve lived in it my whole life.”

I chuckle and lower my face so our eyes are level, and she’s forced to hold my gaze. “Emotions are not a weakness, love. They’re what make us strong.”

“But none of you show any,” she snaps.

“Don’t we?” I lift a brow. “Just because we aren’t crying doesn’t mean we aren’t emotional, ours are just darker. Anger. Rage. Hatred. All emotions we feel deeply. Why do you think you’ve seen us throw fists more than once in the time you’ve been here?”

Camilla’s eyes search mine, her tears slowing and allowing her breaths to come in more evenly. “But I was always taught?—”

“You were taught wrong, love. Sure, there are times when emotions have no place, times you have to shut them off and remain focused, but that doesn’t mean having them isn’t important.” I brush my fingers through her silky hair, the ends knotted from where she had the pillow pulled over her face. “You have every right to be emotional about all the things that have happened to you in the last month, but I won’t tolerate you running from me. From us. It’s not going to do anything other than make us chase you, and I can assure you, I’m not the only one who lives for the chase.”

Her surprised eyes find mine, and a small smirk tugs at the corners of my lips. It’s hard to remember she’s a virgin, given how strong and fierce she is. There’s a perception of virgins that they’re somehow innocent, that their decision not to give their bodies to others means they’re weak. But Camilla is the strongest woman I know.

I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing in her strawberry scent from the shampoo I bought her last week. “Get dressed,” I rumble, placing her on the bed beside me.

“Why?” She looks down at the Motorhead shirt she stole from Kovu. His clothing has quickly become her favorite thing to wear, and the bastard is getting no end of satisfaction from it. “It’s not like the others haven’t seen me in this exact outfit every day I’ve been here.” She tries to crack a smile, but her lips barely twitch at the attempt. My poor girl needs something to smile about, and I’m making it my mission for the day.

“We’re going out.”

Camilla was showered and dressed in under twenty minutes, suddenly having a pep in her step as she held my hand and I led her toward the garage.

Crew is going to kill me for this. In fact, I think all three of them are going to have my head for taking our girl out of the safety of the complex, but I don’t care. We’re always talking about how we each have the same amount of say over decisions, so I’m making this one.

“Where are we going?” She peers up at me through her dark lashes. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants, some white sneakers, and one of Kovu’s shirts tied up at the front to show off her curves, paired with a puffer jacket to keep her warm in the cool February air.

“Not too far,” I tell her. Taking her out at all is a risk, and one I really shouldn’t be taking. But the cast on Camilla’s wrist will be removed next week, and Rogers will likely clear her as healthy, which means she could be taking her rightful place as the head of the De Marco family any day now. What’s the harm in taking her out a few days early?

When we reach the back door, the same one I carried her through that first day, I slip a baseball cap onto her head, smoothing down her chocolate brown locks, and slide a pair of dark sunglasses onto her face.

“Just in case,” I explain before she has the chance to ask what I’m doing.

She nods and takes my hand when I offer it. I drag her out the door and into the same alley I found her in, but either she doesn’t recognize it or she’s putting on a brave face because her expression doesn’t budge.

I lead her onto the street and weave us through the throngs of people out for lunch in the middle of the bustling city. My father would probably disagree, but this is the best time to bring her out. Sure, there’s more people that may recognize her, but there’s also more cover.

Two blocks later, and we stop outside an old ice cream shop that’s been here for almost as long as the street. It’s been in the family of the Jensens for generations and quickly became one of my favorite places in the city when we first moved into the complex.

“Bishop!” Kay beams from behind the counter, her bright smile radiating through the place. Her graying hair is pulled up in a neat knot on the top of her head, and her icy blue eyes seem genuinely happy to see me. “And you brought a friend!”

“Hi Kay.” I chuckle, wrapping my arm around Camilla and tucking her against me. There are only a few people milling around at tables, but every single one of them is a threat in my eyes. “This is Cami,” I tell her.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, dear. Can I get you both your usual, Bishop?”

I nod as I steer Camilla to a free booth at the back of the shop, far from the window and the door, giving the illusion of privacy. “Thanks, Kay.”

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