Page 79 of Catching Camila

“What?” The fear was back in her voice. Her face was splattered with blood. A cut ran down her brow, blood matting her hair. Yet, she was so beautiful. He felt like dying. “What did you say?”

He forced the words out. “I…have to go. I can't stay here. I'm sorry.”

She clutched his hand tighter. “You don't have to listen to him.” She pointed at Nomad. “He lies. He's lying to get you to leave with him.”

“I almost got you killed,” John whispered.

The sirens blared outside.

“You saved my life!” Tears spilled down her face. Her hand, wrapped in his, shook.

“I can't be the one who kills you.” His voice trembled now. “I can't watch myself do that.”

He pulled his hand out of hers, like ripping a bandage off a wound.

“John,” she whispered, stepping forward.

He tried to make his voice cold. “We're too different. It could never work out.”

“It could.” She placed her hands over her heart.

He turned his eyes away. Each glance knifed into his chest. He didn't trust himself if this went on any longer.

“I'm going.” He turned to her, trying to make his face stern, knowing it was the only way to save her. “I'm leaving. There's nothing you can say or do to change that.”

Tears spilled down her face. He looked once more, memorizing the slope of her neck, the curve of her bottom lip, the dozen freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Then he turned away and faced Nomad, hating the very sight of him. “Let's go.”

Nomad nodded weakly and blasted through the back wall with a few solid punches. Debris reigned down in huge chunks. He pushed John through.

“What about the cops?” John asked, struggling through the hole.

Nomad snorted. “Don't worry. They're preoccupied.”

John didn't worry. All he could do was listen to the sounds of Camila's quiet crying.

They took off into the sky.

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