Page 62 of Haunted By the Storm
"We're going to have a conversation with Eric," I say carefully. "Make sure he understands that you and Emily are off-limits. Permanently."
"A conversation," she repeats, not fooled for a second. "And what form will this conversation take?"
I move to sit beside her, keeping some distance between us in case she needs it. "Camryn, I won't lie to you. It won't be pleasant. But it will be effective."
She's quiet for a long moment, staring at her hands. "Will you kill him?"
The directness of her question catches me off guard, though it shouldn't. Camryn's never been one to dance around difficult subjects.
"That depends on him," I answer honestly. "If he accepts that you're under our protection and agrees to stay away, he'll walk away. Hurt, but alive."
"And if he doesn't?"
I meet her eyes, not shying away from what she needs to see. "Then I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he never threatens you or Emily again."
She absorbs this, her expression unreadable. I'm prepared for fear, for disgust, for her to pull away from me as she finally confronts the violence at the core of who I am and what I do.
Instead, she surprises me, as she so often does.
"I want to come with you."
"What?" I stare at her, certain I've misheard.
"I want to be there," she says, her voice steadier than I would have expected. "Not for... whatever happens to him. But I need to look him in the eyes, Storm. I need him to see me, to know that I'm not hiding anymore, that I'm not the scared sixteen-year-old girl he attacked."
Pride and concern war within me. The strength it takes for her to face the man who traumatized her is incredible. But bringing her into a potentially violent situation goes against every protective instinct I have.
"Camryn, I don't think?—"
"I'm not asking permission," she cuts me off. "I'm telling you what I need. Eight years, Storm. Eight years I've been looking over my shoulder, jumping at shadows, terrified he'd find us. Now that it's ending, I need to be part of it. I need closure."
I study her face, seeing the determination there, the strength that's always been part of her even when she couldn't see it herself.
"What about Emily?" I ask, a practical concern that needs addressing.
"She can stay with Tavia and the girls. They've already invited her for a movie night."
She's thought this through. Of course she has.
"There's another issue," I say reluctantly. "The weather."
Her brow furrows in confusion before understanding dawns. "The storm."
"Major system moving in tonight. It’s supposed to be the worst one of the season."
Fear flickers across her face—the old, instinctive fear that's been her companion for too long. But then something shifts in her expression, a steeling of resolve.
"Maybe that's fitting," she says quietly. "Facing both my fears at once."
The symbolism isn't lost on me. Camryn facing the literal storm and the man who made her fear them, alongside a man called Storm who's sworn to protect her.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask one more time. "It won't be easy. Any of it."
She reaches for my hand, her fingers cool against my skin. "I'm sure. I need to do this, Storm. For me. For Emily. For us."
Us. The word slides into place like a missing puzzle piece, completing something I didn't realize was incomplete.
"Okay," I agree, bringing her hand to my lips. "But you stay with me the entire time. You follow my lead. And if things get ugly, you leave when I tell you to. No arguments."
