Page 191 of Beat of Love
The view shifted. Kamila lay face-down, wrists zip-tied. Dirt streaked her cheek, hair matted — but her eyes blazed. “Do you know who I am?” she hissed.
They hauled her upright, forcing her to face the lens.
“You are nobody,” Rafferty said into the mic. “Not anymore.”
She spat blood at the camera. “Too scared to face me, lover?”
“No, Kamila,” he replied evenly. “Just no longer doing your bidding.”
Thousands of miles away, Rafferty exhaled. Only now did he realize how hard he’d been gripping the desk — his knuckles ached. He watched as the team moved Kamila through the tunnels and out into the night.
She was cuffed. In custody.
And soon, it would all be over.
*
Hours later …
He hadn’t slept — too wired from endless mugs of coffee. But he’d showered, dressed in the fresh clothes Brandy-Lyn had brought, and eaten the food she’d placed in front of him. Holding her in his arms, sharing a deep, grounding kiss, seeing the quiet encouragement in her eyes — those things had steadied him.
Strengthened him enough to take the next step.
“You’re connected,” Banks said.
Rafferty looked up at the monitors. Three feeds played across the screens — two from ceiling-mounted cameras in opposite corners of the room, each trained on the woman bound to a chair and the table in front of her.
The third came from the laptop on that table — its webcam capturing her face head-on.
Kamila, still filthy, blood-streaked, and defiant, stared directly into the lens.
“I’m disappointed in you, lover,” she said. “I expected you to come in person. What? Gone soft? Lost your nerve?”
“I have too much to live for to risk my freedom on you. Just seeing you bound to a chair is satisfaction enough.”
She scoffed, venom curling her lips. “That redhead? Too tame for you. And she’ll grow to hate the junkie you are.”
He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he asked, “Why did you kill Se— Sarah?”
Kamila spat off-screen. “Miserable bitch. You slept with her. Planted your seed in her. She needed to die for that offense alone.” Then her features settled into an indifferent mask. “I wanted her to lure you out. But the loyal bitch refused. And then she made plans to run away.Bah!I had to stop her.”
Another woman had lost her life because of him.
Rafferty swallowed his sorrow. “How did you find her?”
Kamila gave a twisted smile. “It was easy. Your name is on the brat’s birth certificate.” She lifted her chin in silent challenge, but her next words held a thread of uncertainty. “Now that you’ve got me — what are you going to do?”
He was done wasting words on her. “It’s time.”
“What?” She frowned, and her eyes shifted as a masked man stepped into frame. He placed two objects on the table in front of her — a syringe and a tourniquet.
Kamila’s gaze snapped up to meet the camera, wide and uncertain. “You’re going to have me executed, lover?”
Without a word, the man untied her hands — leaving her legs and torso bound to the chair — and exited the room.
Her eyes were back on the camera, puzzled.
“No. I’m giving you a choice. Something you denied me.”
