Page 74 of They Will Burn

“This isn’t your fault, Camilla,” Bishop tells me. “He chose to go with you this morning. He chose to protect you. And if he was given this time again, he’d make the same choices. You can’t take the blame for this, and you certainly can’t take the blame for your father’s death.”

I swallow heavily, but I don’t bother arguing with him. There are some fights you just can’t win. Even if I know I’m right, I need to pick my battles right now.

My eyes fall closed, and I try to stifle the yawn that threatens to escape, but I’m exhausted, and there’s no masking that.

“Why don’t you get some rest, Princess. We’ll keep you safe.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

KOVU

It wasn’t hard to find Michael and Scott De Marco, because they weren’t hiding.

There are no additional security measures, they’re not hiding in the panic room, nor do either of them appear afraid as I skulk around the edge of the De Marco mansion.

There’s a part of me that wanted this to be harder. I crave the complications and the fight, but if this is how easy this is going to be, it’s not going to be a very fun kill, even if it means my little lamb will be safe.

When I left the hospital, she was fast asleep on the middle of Kaos’s chest. His eyes were locked on her sleeping face, as if reassuring himself that she was safe just like Bishop and I were. But I couldn’t stay any longer. The thirst for blood was becoming too much for me to ignore, and so I snuck out, promising not to take too long.

As much as I would love to torture these two for days, if not weeks, I don’t have that kind of time right now, but I need them wiped off the face of the planet. I need them gone.

I need to make sure there aren’t going to be any more hits on my woman, and the best way I can think to ensure that is to kill these fuckers.

Quietly, I pick the lock of the back door and slip into the laundry room without making a sound. The only noise in the huge house is a television in the living room, confirming they’re likely still where they were during my surveillance.

I move through the house, looking around at the things Camilla used to see every day. I pause by a wall of photos and find my lips tipping up at a few of the ones of my little lamb as a child. There’s an air of innocence in the photos that was long gone by the time I met her.

By the time I make it into the living room, I’m focused on the task at hand.

I find them sprawled out in an armchair each, both with a whiskey in their hands as they watch some old action movie I vaguely recognize. They’re like sitting ducks waiting for a predator to take them out.

“Isn’t this cozy?” I say as I pull my knife from its holster. I could make it easy and just shoot them, as that’s how they intended to take my little lamb from me, but the kill isn’t as much fun when it’s the bullet that does all the work.

At almost the same time, they both drop their drinks, and the whiskey spills across the carpet. Their eyes are comically wide when they turn to me, and I can’t stop the manic chuckle from falling from my lips. This is going to be so much fun.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” Scott demands, and I note his bandaged wrist from where Camilla cut him. Oh, what I would have given to see her do it in person, but the video footage is quickly becoming one of my favorite things to watch.

“I gotta say, if you’re going to put a hit out on your own family, it’s an interesting choice to stay in their house afterward.”

“This isn’t her house, and I don’t know what you’re talking about. We had nothing to do with Camilla’s accident.” Scott steps further away from the couch, putting more distance between us like that’s going to help.

I almost roll my eyes at how bad they are at lying, but I force it down. “According to John’s will, this is her house. Just like the business is her business, and you’re just employees.”

Michael’s face turns redder with each word I say. Looks like I’ve found the sore spot. “She’s a child. She’s not fit to run this family.”

“And you are? How many failed hits does it take to kill said child?” I growl.

They share a look, but neither of them responds. Probably wise.

“Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to call off the hit, and if you do that, I’ll kill you quickly and painlessly.” I balance the blade between my fingers and smirk when I see both their gazes fall on the knife. “Or you don’t call off the hit, and I show you just how good I am with this thing. It’s up to you, and I’m sure you’ll agree I’m being quite generous given the situation.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Scott spits.

“No arguments here.” I chuckle. “What’s it gonna be?”

“We didn’t put out the hit,” Michael insists. “We just gave him the men to execute it.”

My brows rise as I look between them. Scott’s glaring at his father, confirming what he’s said is the truth, but the fact he hasn’t offered up the name of whoever did put out the hit irritates me. “Go on,” I coax.

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