Page 33 of From the Ashes

When I ran back to the house last night, covered in dirt and blood and cum, I made a beeline straight for the shower, and it was only when I got out that I braved looking at whatever Kovu had carved into my skin.

The word stared back at me for so long I started to question whether it was even spelled right. But it was. The four letters in a perfect line both horrified me and made my heart ache for him.

MINE.

It’s a brand. A declaration. Something else I didn’t have a choice in. But if I could go back and stop him, would I?

My emotions when it comes to Kovu, hell, when it comes to all of them, are all over the place. I’m so fucking mad I can barely see straight that they would lie to me about something so massive. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss them, if I said I didn’t spend the whole night tossing and turning because one of them wasn’t with me.

Things have changed so much over the last few months that my life is almost completely unrecognizable. Before Christmas, I was a freshly graduated and college-bound teenager with my whole life ahead of me. There were years before I would have to take over my family’s legacy, and at least three years I would get to just be young without the pressure of Mafia life.

But that all came crashing down faster than I could blink. All the work I did to graduate early so I could have some time off before heading to Yale was a waste of fucking time, but at least it means I’m not trying to juggle high school and my new responsibilities as well as multiple people trying to kill me.

The elevator doors slide open, and I gingerly step out, wincing when my soft satin skirt brushes over the bandage I awkwardly put on the cuts this morning after disinfecting them again after my shower.

Bonnie sits on the other side of the desk, her eyes downcast and her body trembling slightly, making me pause by her desk. I sneak a look down the hallway to my office, but the door is closed, and I’m immediately suspicious.

“Hey,” I say gently. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes dart up to meet mine, and my chest aches for her. She looks fucking terrified. She may have worked for a crime boss for the last few years, but most of my father’s shady dealings were done off-site, which makes me think whoever is in my office waiting for me probably shouldn’t be here.

“Camilla, hey.” Her voice shakes as she reaches for her glass of water, sloshing it all over her white desk.

I immediately drop my bag and reach for the tissues, carefully mopping it up. “Bonnie, what’s going on?”

Her eyes dart to the hallway before coming back to me. “There are some men in your office. They had guns. They told me if I called security or told you they were here, they would kill me.”

My stomach bottoms out, but I keep my face neutral. I trained for years for moments just like this, and now I have a poker face even the professionals would be envious of. I carefully crouch down beside her chair, ignoring the pain of the cuts on my ass. “Did they hurt you?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, they didn’t do anything to me. Just threatened to.”

“Okay.” I nod and slip my phone from my handbag.

I quickly type a message to the group chat I share with the Legion before dropping it back into my bag.

Camilla: You’re all still assholes. But we might have a problem at Hills Global. Just a heads up.

I pull out a few bills and hand them to her. “Go get us coffee. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come back up.”

Her frantic blue eyes clash with mine, and guilt weighs down on me. She shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this, but I’m not about to fire someone who has always done good work for my dad and put up with Michael and Scott’s shit while I was away.

I squeeze her hand as I push myself back to my feet. “I’ve got this handled. Just wait until I tell you before you come back up, okay?”

She nods, and I blow out a nervous breath as I pick up my handbag and start down the hallway. My black floaty skirt falls against my calves, and my black pumps make my legs seem infinitely longer than they really are. The simple white blouse I pulled on sits snugly across my chest, and while the outfit is objectively comfortable, if things get messy in here, it’s not exactly appropriate for fighting.

My phone vibrates in my bag, but I don’t pause. Instead, I push the door open and force myself not to falter when I spot Charles Davenport and the man I now know as Kaos’s father sitting across from my desk.

I keep my head held high as I round the desk and drop my handbag into the bottom drawer before turning to face them. “I don’t recall setting a meeting with either of you,” I say. I’d like to sit down, but I’m already at a disadvantage and sitting won’t help matters. So instead, I lean my hip against the desk and cross my arms across my chest, giving the illusion of nonchalance.

“You’re a hard woman to get in contact with,” Charles tells me. His dark hair is slicked back the way it always is with entirely too much gel, and his deep brown eyes look even darker than normal.

“By design.” I smirk and turn my attention to Caleb. “How’s returning from the dead going for you?”

He chuckles and leans forward in his seat. His features are so similar to Kaos’s, I can’t believe I never put the pieces together, but why would I? He was supposed to be dead, so there was no reason for me to make the connection. “It would be going significantly better if you would die when we try to kill you.”

I’m startled by the honesty in his words, but I can’t stop the laugh that claws its way up my throat. “Sorry about that. Unfortunately, I have no plans on taking my last breath anytime soon, so perhaps you should move on to plan B or C.”

“Why don’t you have a seat so we can talk?” Charles gestures to the chair pushed back from the desk.

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