Page 2 of Freeing Camila

Using the last bit of strength that she had remaining, she reached out and grasped the arm of the man kneeling next to her. Parched and struggling to speak, she croaked out the desperate plea in a raw, desperate whisper, “Save the girls.”

The harsh lines on his face softened as he laid a comforting hand over hers, his touch surprisingly gentle. “We got them. Don’t worry. We’reallgetting out of here.” Though she heard him clearly stress that his statement included her, she dismissed it. She was too weak and in too much pain, each breath a laborious effort, each movement an agony. She wasn’t walking out of there.

And frankly, she didn’t want to try. In light of everything that had transpired, there was no longer anything for her out there, no place to return to, and no one waiting for her. Considering the betrayals, the losses, and the shattered dreams, there was nothing left for her. Her life had ended the moment she’d been dragged from her bed. Carmela Piras was as good as dead.

“I can see the war going on in your head. Don’t you give up,” Mustang urged. “We’ll get you home.”

“Have no home,” she whispered as tears she thought long since had dried up slipped out.

“Then we’ll help you make a new one.”

A new home. That sounded nice. Like a dream. But was it possible? A wave of something fresh and unexpected, unlike anything she’d known, moved through her. A new understanding dawned, a fresh perspective blossoming, subtly changing her in ways she couldn't quite define; a sense of peace settled over her.

Carmela Piras was dead, and with her death, a void was created. From this emptiness, however, a transformation was about to occur, giving rise to a vibrant new woman brimming with life and bursting with unrealized potential.

CHAPTER1

Little Victories Bucket List No.4: Climb a tree

Giventhe sheer number of remarkably dumb ways in which a person could die, this situation was exceptionally close to the top of the list of unbelievably and incredibly stupid ways to die. In the top ten, at least. But for Carmela Piras it was just the tip of the iceberg.

No.

She wasn’t Carmela anymore. She needed to remember that. Even in her head. She was now Camila Pierce.

Cammie.

A name synonymous with freedom. Except that freedom led to her current boneheaded situation.

After everything she’d been through to get here, was this really how she was going to meet her end? Suck in a tree on a warm spring day in Virginia.

High on her list of things to do in her new life was climbing a tree, and, in the moment, it had seemed like an excellent plan. Having finally achieved the freedom she so longed for, Cammie embarked upon the creation of a bucket list, a carefully compiled catalog of simple, childlike activities she had been denied during her childhood years. If her father could only see her now, he’d surely have a coronary.

Cammie snorted. She could imagine many other excessive and dramatic reactions from her controlling father, that one being only a single example among many possibilities of his overbearing behavior. His temperament was unpredictable, shifting dramatically from periods of icy quietude to sudden, explosive eruptions of anger. It wasn't the shouting or the threats that truly terrified, but rather the stark, sudden silences that descended upon him, leaving an icy dread in their wake. That was when he was planning . . . plotting. No one ever escaped the consequences; those plots always ended in ruin and despair. Especially for her.

Her present predicament irrefutably demonstrated the truth of that statement. And she’d been so hopeful. A new life. Away from her father and the dark world he forced upon her.

Achieving this new life had been a difficult and challenging process, to say the least. A long and winding road filled with obstacles overcome only through perseverance and a fair amount of luck. And after spending so much time captive in a dark place, it had been a series of lucky breaks that had led her here.

Stuck in a tree.

She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Laughing seemed like the right response for this new person named Cammie. So that’s what she went with. The laugh burst out of her like a gunshot. Abrupt and loud, even to her own ears. The sound of her laughter echoed through the branches, tears welled up and her stomach muscles seized with unrestrained amusement.

Guess she was finally losing her mind. A thought that only made her laugh harder.

After everything she’d been through . . . fought through . . . this was what broke her. If only Elodie and the others could see her now.

Having gotten to know the ladies in Hawaii after their SEAL husbands had brought her back, she couldn’t help but think they’d be disappointed in her current situation. They’d done so much to help her after her rescue. The healthy meals that Elodie had cooked for herself were instrumental in helping her recover from the severe weight loss caused by her near starvation.

Lexie had provided her with a sense of purpose by allowing her to volunteer at Food For All, a program dedicated to feeding those less fortunate and unable to afford food on their own. Kenna, Monica, and Carly had given her shoulders to cry on when her reality became just a little too overwhelming. Ashlyn’s influence in her sometimes acerbic way had helped her to understand and appreciate the power of her own inner strength, a power she had not known she possessed. All six women enabled her to discover an unshakeable fortitude within, a strength that manifested as a steady calm.

The guys may have rescued her body, but it was the women who’d rescued her soul.

Their support helped her recover and rediscover her love for creating exquisite coffee blends, a passion she’d always held dear. The comforting warmth of the coffee and the satisfying sounds of the grinder brought back cherished memories of her life before. Before her capture. Before waking up in the damp reality of her dank prison cell, where the only sounds were the drip of water and the distant echoes of despair.

Before her life had been irrevocably changed, Cammie had loved coffee and possessed a true affinity for the beans. Her relationship with the brew extended beyond simply drinking it; she delighted in the hands-on experience of toying with the beans, methodically working with them until a unique and perfect blend was achieved. Her goal?a pipe dream really?was to open her own coffee shop. Maybe even develop her own brand.

Now that she was free, the once distant possibility no longer felt like a pipe dream. The girls had given her that. They’d changed her life. Saved her. And here she was, repaying their kindness by losing her mind . . . stuck in a tree.

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