Page 236 of Corrupting Camille
I nod.
“Don’t look at the target. Look at me.”
I do.
He stares into me like he can hold me there with just his gaze.
“Nothing out there is scarier than the sound of me behind you,” he murmurs.
It’s meant to comfort. But it chills.
He fixes my stance. Straightens my arms. Adjusts my grip.
“You ready?”
No.
But I nod anyway.
I fire.
The kick is violent. It rattles through my bones.
The sound pierces the quiet like thunder in a tunnel.
I drop the gun with a scream.
The panic is instant.
The walls close in.
My lungs seize. My knees buckle. And then I’m on the floor…kneeling, heaving, gasping for a breath I can’t seem to find. My body trembles violently, stomach clenching as bile rises in my throat. I lurch to the side and throw up on the polished concrete.
My chest caves in.
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
“Camille.”
Kane’s voice…low, but sharp. It cuts through the spiral.
His hands are on me. One steadying my back. The other gripping my jaw, forcing my eyes to his.
“Breathe,” he says.
I can’t.
“You’re not in danger. You’re not alone. Look at me.”
I do. Barely.
His face is close, his eyes burning, not with anger, but with fear he won’t say out loud.
“I shouldn’t have brought you down here today,” he says quietly.
“I wanted to,” I choke out. “For you. For us.”
“This isn’t something you do for me,” he says, almost angry now. “It’s something you do when you’re ready.”
