Page 7 of They Will Burn

This time, it’s me who lunges. Kaos is four inches taller than me, and he’s a hell of a lot more stacked, but I slam him into the wall, relishing in the sound of the drywall cracking at his weight. “Camilla is not just a bit of pussy,” I snarl as anger beats down on me. I don’t know what it is about her that makes me fucking crazed, but I can’t say I’ve ever felt as protective over a woman as I do her.

“Don’t you think I know that?” he shouts, his eyes shining with regret. “I fucking know. But I couldn’t lose Bishop. I couldn’t lose anyone else.”

I force a deep breath into my lungs, trying to make myself see this situation rationally. Objectively. But all I can see is Camilla hurt. Her body broken. The evidence of whatever the hell Davenport plans to do to her with the knowledge that we care about her. He knows he can hurt us with her. He knows that our feelings toward her are the only vulnerable part of us.

I release him and take a step back, looking around the room that smells too fucking much like the woman who has stolen the heart I thought was long dead. “Bishop, go to the medical suite. Rogers will be here soon, and I want him to look you over. Kovu, I want you to work with Wyatt on tracing every fucking step Davenport takes. I don’t want him to take a fucking dump without us knowing about it. I’m going to contact the other families and start doing some damage control before he can tell everyone we’ve been harboring Camilla for the last six weeks without anyone, her family included, knowing about it.”

“What do you want me to do?” Kaos asks, his eyes darting between the three of us.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do. Just stay out of the way.”

I force one foot in front of the other as I stride out of the room, knowing if I spend another minute in a confined space with him, I may very well kill my own nephew.

They say love makes you stupid, but even I know ending the life of a family member isn’t something I can come back from.

CHAPTER SIX

CAMILLA

Idrift in and out of consciousness, my head and body aching from whatever the hell Kaos injected me with. My dreams are filled with thoughts of them, of the men I thought would keep me safe, and of the questions that will likely plague me for the rest of my life.

Did they all know what Kaos was doing?

Was he just the only one who could face me?

Even as I think it, I know it can’t be true. Not with how Bishop held me, or how Kovu nursed me back to health despite his aversion to touch, or how Crew bent for me when I know for a fact he doesn’t bend for anyone.

It had to be Kaos working on his own, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I thought we were finally getting somewhere. That the quiet, brooding man with shadows behind his eyes was finally starting to warm to me, but maybe that was part of the ruse. Make me trust him like I did the others. Even as I think it, it doesn’t make sense. If I trusted him, I would have walked out the front door with him. I wouldn’t have questioned his motives or where we were going, only that he would keep me safe, so there would have been no point in drugging me.

He drugged me because he couldn’t face me. Because he knew what he was doing was wrong, and he wasn’t unaffected by the decision he was making.

Footsteps on concrete drag me from my own thoughts, and I push myself up, making sure Kovu’s shirt and my sleep shorts are still in place. I glower at the chain around my ankle, the heavy weight of the metal making my bones ache beneath them. They didn’t have to do it up so fucking tight.

The door swings open, and Charles Davenport walks into the small space, making it seem impossibly smaller. He’s not an unattractive man, but it’s his personality that makes him ugly. His motives. His business dealings. All the things I want nothing to do with.

Part of my training was to know how each of the five families did business, how they made their money, but it was always his that made my stomach churn uncomfortably. He walks the line of sex trafficking far too closely for my liking, even if I know he can’t cross it because the Syndicate has rules.

His dark hair is slicked back, while his near-black eyes peruse my body as if he has every right to objectify me. I guess in his mind, he does. In his head, I belong to him. I’m his property to do with as he pleases, and just the thought of that makes my stomach recoil.

“Hello, Camilla,” he purrs, the very sound making me cringe.

I don’t bother responding, keeping my eyes set on him, my face cold and emotionless as I was trained. I spent years preparing for moments just like this, and I will not break for him. I will not give him that satisfaction.

“That’s okay, pet. I don’t want you for your voice.” He closes the door behind him and leans against it, but even so, his presence makes the cell feel so small that I can barely breathe.

“Why exactly do you want me?” I ask, my voice cool and detached.

He chuckles. “Isn’t that obvious? I’m sure your daddy taught you all about the business and why your territory is so valuable.”

“I understand that. I know why De Marco territory is sought after, but what I don’t understand is why you would make a deal like the one you made with my dad. Why you made a deal that you would have to wait almost twenty years to come to fruition. I’m certain there was a quicker and easier way to overthrow my father and take the territory for yourself.”

His eyes flash with surprise at how much I know about the situation and that I’m daring to question him. If he wanted some innocent wallflower to accompany him to events and bear his children, he definitely should have chosen someone else.

“And what would have happened if my mother gave birth to a boy?”

“You’re an inquisitive little thing, aren’t you?” His tone is amused, but his eyes don’t flicker from the clear contempt he has for me.

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