Page 57 of Theirs to Rule

I ignored the question. "Camille is confused. The three of us... whether we mean to or not, we're fucking with her head. You hurt her enough emotionally. Hurting her physically, with your history, even if it’s meant to be sexual play, I'm not sure that's good for her."

"Then it's a good thing it's not up to you, is it? Camille’s a big girl. She might be confused about what she feels for all of us, but she's strong as fuck, and she can handle herself. She doesn't need you to babysit her, Dante."

"I don't want her hurt," I bit out.

He smirked, a bitter twist to his lips. "Life hurts us. Everything hurts us eventually, even love. But you know that, don't you?"

Suddenly, with a deliberate motion, he pressed the lit cigarette against his skin, a grimace of pain and satisfaction on his face.

"What the fuck are you doing?” I snapped, knocking the cig away from his skin, but not before the damage had been done. "You think this makes up for what you did to her?"

"You think this is about her?"

"In a way, yes. There’s no denying there’s darkness inside you and her light confuses you. It illuminates the dark in you, something you hate. It's why you push her away so hard. Why you broke up with her in the first place. Am I right?"

When he didn’t answer, I grabbed his arm to see how bad he’d burned himself, but he ripped it out of my grasp. "Don't fucking touch me," he hissed. “Or do. Just know I get off on pain. I’m hard right now. Want to check and see if I’m telling the truth?" The challenge in his gaze was unmistakable, a taunt and a confession all at once.

I just stared at him, the weight of his words and actions settling heavily on me.

"You're fucked up, Ty," I said, not as an insult but as a stark observation. There was no mockery in my voice, only a deep, unspoken pity. "I'm sorry for all you've gone through. For what you pile on yourself because you think it's all you deserve. But know this. I don't want to fuck you. I don't want to hate you. I don't even want to fight you. But if you ever hurt Camille, I'll end you."

Without waiting for his response, I turned and went back inside, the cool air of the house wrapping around me like a shroud. I picked up Camille, who didn't even stir, and carried her upstairs to her bed. Then I shed my clothes and climbed in next to her. I felt her warmth seep into my bones, lulling me into a state of peace even as I couldn't help but think of the storm that raged within Ty.

Chapter 26

Kage

Iwas standing in the dimly lit room, my heart racing with a mix of anger and anticipation. Troy, Silas’s brother, was hanging from his wrists in front of me, his clothes torn and bloodied. My hands were clenched into fists, aching to unleash the fury boiling inside me. He was one of the three men who attacked Camille, and for that, he was going to pay.

Ryker and Declan stood nearby, their expressions grim. We were a united front, bound by a common purpose—punishment. Despite my recent injuries, the adrenaline pumping through my veins made me feel invincible.

Just like I felt after I finger fucked Camille earlier that night.

Troy, however, was proving to be a tougher nut to crack than his brother. Even in his beaten state, he started laughing, a sound that grated on my nerves. He spat a mouthful of blood on the floor then glared at me.

"I'm tougher than Silas ever was," he said, blood dripping from a split lip. "I'm not going to beg like the little pussy did at the end. I'm willing to sacrifice myself for the cause."

I stepped forward, my vision tinted red with rage. "What cause?" I demanded, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me. But all he said in response was, "We shall endure."

He'd said that phrase, those three words, repeatedly, hinting that Silas's actions against Ava and Camille had been about something deeper, more organized than a simple burglary gone wrong. Troy's willingness to endure pain and torture without breaking proved it—a commitment to something greater than himself.

The realization that our fight wasn't just against a group of thugs out for gold but possibly against an organized cause with unknown objectives made my stomach turn. Troy's endurancewasremarkable. Whatever he believed in, he was willing to not just die for but suffer unimaginable pain.

Fuck it.

I pulled out my switchblade. "Say goodbye to your dick, Troy.”

The motherfucker just laughed.

He was even more psycho than I was.

"He doesn't think you'll do it," Ryker said.

" Then let's geteverythingout in the open, eh? Starting with every single limb and appendage I can chop off."

I stepped closer and shredded his shirt. As I trailed the blade to his waistband, I suddenly slid it into his side as easily as if I was cutting butter. Troy snarled but didn’t cry out.

"Oops," I said as I dragged the knife down, cutting him and his pants in one go, splitting the skin down to his shins then repeating the motion on the other side. This time, the motherfucker screamed, the sound echoing around us.

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