Page 75 of They Will Burn

“He came to us last week, said he’d pay us for our assistance, and he’d ensure when Camilla died that we would take her place.”

“Dad,” Scott hisses. “He’s going to kill us anyway, you don’t need to tell him shit.”

“Who?” I ask, ignoring his protests.

“I don’t know,” Michael says, his eyes darting between the blade and my face. “He never gave us his name. All the correspondence was done over the phone. We’ve never even seen his face.”

I look to Scott, assessing his level of annoyance with his father to figure out if the shit he’s spewing is the truth. How the fuck has our girl already got someone else gunning for her?

“So let me get this straight. You helped a nameless, faceless person, trying to take out your only remaining family, with no questions asked?”

Scott nods as Michael opens his mouth to say something, but one glare from his son has him snapping his mouth shut. There’s more to it, but I doubt they’re going to give me anything else, and I’ve already been away from the hospital for too long. I need to get back to my little lamb, because there’s a part of me that not even blood can settle.

I roll my shoulders back before advancing on them, and when Scott pulls a gun from under the side table he’s standing beside, I can’t swallow the bark of laughter that bursts from my throat. He clearly doesn’t realize I’d fucking relish the pain of a gunshot right now. It would help to keep me balanced while our world is threatening to tip upside down.

But Camilla wouldn’t like it if I came back with a bullet wound, so I make quick work of slicing his good hand and revel in the scream that tears from him.

“A matching pair to go to the grave with,” I muse.

I don’t hesitate to slice his throat the second the gun hits the ground before advancing on his father, who’s fumbling between the couch cushions. I can’t believe these two thought they could competently run this organization.

I step up behind him and poise the blade against his throat. “Anything else I need to know, Michael?”

“No. That’s everything, I swear.”

Liar.

He doesn’t get another word out before I slit his throat, and my need for blood is quenched. At least for now.

I dig through his pocket for his phone before making my way out the front door. I’ll call for a clean-up crew once I’m back at the hospital and then have Wyatt trace these calls.

I’m going to find whoever hurt my little lamb, and I’m going to make them wish they never thought about the name Camilla De Marco.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

CAMILLA

When I woke up from my nap, Kovu was missing, but Kaos and Bishop quickly assured me he’s fine and that he just had to run out and do a quick job, and as much as I wanted to ask questions, I was too tired.

The concussion the doctor told me I have has really thrown me for a loop, and if I could, I’d sleep the rest of the week away. But then another doctor came in to give us an update about Crew, and all thoughts of sleep disappeared.

The middle-aged man with a receding hairline gives Kaos a curious look. He still hasn’t removed himself from the bed, and every time a nurse has come in to check my vitals, they’ve had to do so around him because he refuses to move.

“You’re the family of Crew Black?” he asks, and Bishop quickly steps forward.

“I’m his son. This is his nephew and girlfriend.”

The doctor’s eyebrows shoot almost as high as mine do at the title Bishop has just given me, but then butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I can’t wipe off the stupid smile that forces its way onto my lips. I never thought much about a title for what I have with these men, but calling them my boyfriends doesn’t quite seem like enough. Plus, there’s nothing about them that screams “boy.” Each one of them is one hundred percent man.

“Very well.” He shakes himself off. “Your father is stable and recovering in the ICU. We almost lost him a couple of times, but we’re confident he’s going to make a full recovery.”

“When can we see him?” I ask, my voice sounding a little too vulnerable for my own liking.

“We’re going to move him into a private ICU room shortly, and then I’ll send a nurse to bring you up.”

Some of the tension that has been beating down on me since I woke up finally releases. He’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Or at least it will be until the next threat to our lives.

Suddenly, the arranged marriages in the mafia world make so much fucking sense. If you’re forced to marry someone, even if you come to love them, it probably won’t be an all-consuming kind of love. But when you find your person, or people in my case, the idea of losing them is crippling.

---