Page 21 of From the Ashes

“Little late for hindsight now, K,” Kovu growls as he stalks toward the guard house. He’s been here before, but I think this is the first time he’s going to try to get through the front door.

An older man steps out of the guard house, his hand resting on his gun in its holster as he watches us approach. There are deep smile lines around his lips, but right now they’re pulled down into a tight frown.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asks, not allowing his gaze to drop from us.

“We’re here to see Camilla,” Crew replies. He may be dressed in sweats and a tight black T-shirt today, a far cry from his usual suit, but he’s all business.

“Unfortunately, Miss De Marco explicitly said she doesn’t want any company,” the man tells us, and I drop my head back, looking up at the gray sky. Seems fitting it’s about to rain. “But I’ll let her know you dropped by.”

“I’m not leaving until I see Camilla,” Kovu forces through gritted teeth, and I edge toward him, ready to pull him back if he lunges for the guy. Somehow, I don’t think shooting the messenger is going to win us any favors right now.

Fuck, I hate being the logical one. This isn’t my job.

The man looks each of us over, his eyes lingering for long seconds before he lets out a sigh and drops his hand from his gun. He obviously knows we’re not a threat to her, but I still get the impression he’s not going to let us through this gate.

“Miss De Marco has requested increased security around the house, they arrived a little while ago. If I were you boys, I would recommend giving her some time to cool down.”

The tension in Crew’s shoulders falls into dejection as he drops his head. “There have been multiple attempts on her life recently. We just want to make sure she’s safe.”

“I can assure you that she is safe here. I have worked for the De Marco family for forty years, and I’ve vetted every single one of these men. No harm will come to her while she’s here.”

Crew considers him for long moments before giving him a sharp nod. “I’ll give you our numbers. If anything happens, I want you to call us immediately, and we’ll be here.”

He looks us over one more time before returning to the guard house and coming back with a notepad and pen.

Leaving Camilla here isn’t something any of us wants to do, but it looks like she’s taken that choice out of our hands.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CAMILLA

The door to my dad’s office looms over me, but no matter how long I stand here, I can’t seem to force myself to walk inside.

None of the staff seems to be working today, but I assume the room has been cleaned and I’m not about to walk into a bloody murder scene.

Except, I’m not sure that’s what has me lurking in the doorway like a kid nervous to ask her mom if she can go to her first party. No, I think it’s the fact that I learned so many of my hardest lessons in this room.

This is the place I saw my first murder and where I was given the order for my first kill. It’s where my dad tested me relentlessly and where I transformed from a little girl into a cold Mafia princess in just a few short years.

And now it’s mine.

There are no more lessons. There are no more orders. It’s just me, and that’s more terrifying than any of the demons I ever faced in here.

“Camilla?” a familiar voice says from behind me, and I spin on my heel, a smile tugging at my lips despite how much my heart hurts.

Chloe.

Before I can think better of it, I rush toward her, and without missing a beat, she wraps me up in her arms. Her auburn hair brushes against my cheek, and the familiarity of the hug and her scent allow me to drop the mask I find myself wearing all too often.

“It’s so good to see you,” she whispers. “I was worried when I checked in with the airline and they said you didn’t get on the plane. I thought you were—” She chokes on the word, but I know exactly what it would have been.

She thought I was dead.

“I’m sorry. I should have found a way to let you know I was okay.” Tears fall against my cheeks of their own accord, but I realize I need this. I need to let it all out so I can figure out my next steps.

That’s where I differ from my father and his father before him. I’m never going to be able to turn my emotions off. I’m never not going to be affected by the things we do and how it impacts the people around me. But I can channel that emotion to make myself the best version of the Mafia queen I was born to be.

“Don’t be silly.” She sniffles. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.” She pulls me back, her gaze moving over my body before pausing on the two bandages, one on each arm. “You are okay, right?”

---