Page 110 of Corrupting Camille
“He doesn’t get peace,” Kane growls, voice breaking dangerously low, each word carved from stone and vengeance. “Not when you’re carrying his scars inside you, silently bleeding every fucking day.”
My eyelids flutter closed.
There is some twisted part of me aches for exactly that. Craves Kane’s ruthless brand of justice. Wants him to hunt Douglas down, to punish him, hurt him until he’s reduced to ashes and dust.
But the other part, the small, trembling, damaged part, just wants it all to disappear, like a nightmare melting away at dawn.
“I’m not ready,” I whisper finally, voice so fragile I barely recognize it. I feel Kane’s breath hitch, angry and anguished, his rage straining against the thin thread of control he’s barely managing. “Please, Kane. If you meant anything you’ve ever said… if you’ve ever cared about me at all... just wait.”
The silence that follows is crushing, pressing down until my ribs ache beneath the unbearable weight of his fury, my pleading, and the bleeding truths we’ve laid bare between us.
After a long, torturous moment, he exhales once, harsh, resentful, bitter.
“Fine,” he says roughly.
It sounds like surrender.
It feels like war.
“Not forever,” he clarifies, the words gritted out like broken glass. “But for now.”
My hand curls desperately around his sleeve, holding on tight, terrified to trust this violent, unpredictable promise. “Swear to me.”
He pulls back just enough to look down at me, eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them, every shred of tenderness obliterated by a ruthless, jagged clarity.
His jaw tightens, muscles flexing beneath the skin like cables drawn too tight. He stares down at me, eyes fierce, every inch of him radiating a threat I know he’s aching to fulfill.
“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.” he says quietly, each word crisp and measured, like bullets chambered and waiting.
His gaze searches my face, ruthless and uncompromising, dissecting my weakness as his thumb brushes my trembling fingers off his sleeve. He doesn’t move farther away, doesn’t soften his voice. He just holds me captive, drowning me slowly in his unwavering, dark certainty.
“But I’ll give you this much,” he continues softly, dangerously. “He’ll keep breathing, Camille. For now.”
Something painful twists in my chest, half-relief, half-dread, knowing the unspoken threat that hangs in the heavy air between us. My breath, shaky and ragged, betraying everything I’m desperately trying to hide.
Kane leans in, the barest distance between our mouths, his voice nothing more than a raw, blistering whisper. “But make no mistake, Princesa. He’s living on borrowed time. And when that time runs out, I won’t stop.”
My pulse skitters, heart tripping recklessly, caught between terror and twisted gratitude. He pulls back, eyes searing into mine like a brand, marking me, claiming me, reminding me that his restraint is temporary, fleeting, fragile.
“I won’t swear, Camille,” he murmurs finally, his voice hard, decisive, deadly calm. “Because mercy isn’t in my blood…not for this.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone, gasping, hollowed out by the raw knowledge that every second ticking forward is borrowed, temporary. My knees buckle as I sag against the wall, desperate breaths tearing from my chest, each one an admission…a truth I can’t voice, a craving I shouldn’t feel. He’s etched vengeance into my bones, burned retribution into my skin, forcing me to crave justice delivered by his ruthless hands.
And now I’m terrified of the moment he finally unleashes it.
Chapter Ten
Kane
She begged me.
Pleaded.
Her tears, her voice raw and broken and desperate.
She wants peace, quiet, restraint. She thinks mercy is letting a monster breathe.
But I’m not merciful.
