Page 11 of They Will Burn

CHAPTER NINE

BISHOP

It takes two days for my head to clear after my concussion, and every minute I’m not out looking for ways to get Camilla back is driving me more insane than the last.

I fucking hate feeling useless. I hate that while the others are out searching for ways to bring her home, I’m locked up in the complex being forced to rest.

The only person I’ve seen other than Rogers is Kaos, and he’s the last fucking person I want to see. The rage I feel toward my cousin grows every time I think about what he did, and every time I see him, I grow closer to putting a bullet between his eyes.

I pull on my jacket and secure the two buttons before glancing at myself in the mirror. The charcoal-gray suit fits me like a glove, but for the first time, I don’t see the put-together manipulator I’ve shown the rest of the world since we stepped into our positions. Instead, I’m just a man who feels helpless while his woman is locked up in a fucking tower.

I turn from the mirror and make my way down the hallway to the kitchen. It’s still early, earlier than I expect to find anyone in here, but instead I’m faced with not one, but two of my family members.

Kaos is in the corner by the window, a cup of coffee that doesn’t look like it’s been touched in front of him, and the dark circles beneath his eyes are so dark I’m starting to wonder if he’s slept at all since we were taken.

My dad is on the other side of the bench, a knife clenched in his hand so tight I think he may snap the handle, and an apple on the chopping board that he’s yet to slice.

How long have they been in here for?

“Morning,” I say, moving behind the counter to pour myself a cup of coffee. It’s too fucking early for this much tension.

Neither of them bother responding, and I release a breath to settle my own anger at being locked in a room with the two of them. Realistically, I know Crew didn’t do anything to cause this. In fact, if there’s anyone I can blame for this aside from Kaos, it’s me. I’m the one who took her out that day. I’m the reason Davenport ever found out she was here.

“How are things going?” I ask, taking a sip of the coffee that turns to ash on my tongue. I never bought into the bullshit notion that when you lose the one you love, life ceases to have any meaning. But in the days since Camilla was taken from me, I don’t see color, or taste food, or even feel anything other than blinding numbness. When we get her back, I doubt I’ll be able to let her out of my sight out of fear that anything like this would ever happen again.

Crew drops the knife onto the chopping block, his mismatched glare falling on Kaos in the corner, who still hasn’t acknowledged either of our existences. From the limited time I’ve spent with him in the last few days, it seems he’s withdrawn the same way he did when Uncle Caleb died.

“Not well,” he says hoarsely. “I called on the Saint James family for help, and they have Everett and some guy that recently started working for them trying to hack into the security system in the penthouse, but they have it locked up tight.”

I nod, placing the cup down on the bench. I’m oddly comforted to know our allies in Chicago are helping because Everett Masters is the best of the best, and I imagine anyone they bring on would have to be vetted by him, so I can assume he’s on par. “And Kovu?”

“He’s been outside the penthouse since they took her inside. I’ve tried getting him to come home, but he refuses.”

“He’s going to get himself killed sitting out there all day and night without sleeping.” Kaos mutters the first words he’s said since we each almost beat the shit out of him when we found out what he did.

I turn my glare on him and finally meet his eyes. They’re faded just the way Dad’s are, the regret clear as day in the dark pools. “And whose fault will that be?” I snap.

The move is almost too quick for me to catch as he stands, his chair clattering to the tiled floors. “Don’t you fucking think I know that?” he growls. “I know this is all my fault, but what the hell did you want me to do? Just let them have you? Let them kill you? Let us all lose someone else we cared about? Let Camilla lose you?”

The sound of her name on his lips has anger seething from every pore, but I keep myself rooted on this side of the kitchen. I’ve just recovered from a concussion, I’m not looking to get myself another one.

“You were meant to talk to us before you did something so rash,” Crew snaps. “We could have made a plan, put a fucking tracker on her, did something to prepare her instead of you drugging her and carrying her out of here like she never meant anything to any of us.” His fists are clenched on the bench, like he’s physically forcing himself to stay put instead of rounding the counter and letting his fists do the talking.

“I know, okay?” Kaos throws his arms up, his tattooed hands in tight fists. “I fucking know. I panicked. I didn’t fucking know what else to do, and I thought if it was up to you or Kovu, you wouldn’t do what needed to be done.”

“You thought I would leave my son in the hands of the enemy?” Crew asks incredulously.

“I don’t fucking know what any of us are capable of when it comes to Camilla fucking De Marco. She makes all of us lose our minds.”

I stare at him for long seconds, his words sinking in. I knew things had changed between them in the last week, but has he really come to care for her so deeply? And if he has, how could he hand her over with such little consideration?

“It wasn’t your decision to make,” Crew says, his voice as strained as his body appears. “We should have spoken about it together, Camilla included. You think she would have let Bishop stay with Davenport? You think she would have let him rot with the enemy because of her?” He stares at Kaos. “If you do, you don’t know her anywhere near as well as the rest of us do.”

Kaos’s eyes flick from me to Crew and back again before he sighs. “I know that,” he whispers. “I know she wouldn’t have wanted that. I know she would have handed herself over for him without hesitation.”

“So why did you drug her?” I ask.

“Because I knew none of us would survive watching her walk away,” he admits, and his words hit home. “At least this way, I was the bad guy.”

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