Chapter Twenty-Eight
The drive to my home was long and tense. Every few moments, Franklin was looking at his phone, texting someone while keeping his finger on the trigger of his gun, the barrel pressing into my side.
Pulling up to the keypad for my gate, I rolled the window down, punching in the gate code.
“Hurry up,” Franklin commanded. All I could do was nod and stay silent as I parked my car slightly on the lawn.
Camden will know something is wrong if he sees me parked crooked and on my grass. I thought, answering the silent question from my darkness. Plus, Elaine should be starting her tasks, since I didn’t check in with her. We have a plan in place in case something happens to me.
“Get out, and don’t try anything funny, or you die, and I find what I need by myself.” Franklin got out of my car, and I followed suit, fumbling with my keys.
Camden had to have heard my phone call and should be on his way. I just had to avoid killing him for as long as I could.
Following me up the steps of my porch, I kept up my act, forcing my hands to tremble as I sifted through my keys nervously, dropping them at my feet.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Franklin hissed. I kneeled down to pick up my keys, and he pressed the gun into the small of my back.
Unlocking the door, he pushed me inside, slamming it behind him. Not saying a word, he pushed his way past me and started to go through everything in my foyer. He pulled open drawers, shuffling through everything on my table, knocking over candles, and picture frames. I cracked my neck, trying to resist stabbing him in the throat like I did to Connor.
“Is this fucker stupid? Who would keep a safe in the foyer of a huge home?” my darkness said, sitting on a couch to my left, propping her feet up on the coffee table. I held back a chuckle as he approached me again, pulling me by my arm into the kitchen.
“This would be a lot quicker if you just told me where you kept your money. I’ll keep destroying your perfect home until you do,” Franklin scoffed, swiping my pantry goods off the shelf, littering the floor.
“I-I don’t know what you expect of me. I don’t have a safe and—”
“Shut up, cunt!” Franklin rushed up to me, pressing the barrel of the gun under my chin. “You have to have something somewhere…” Grabbing my arm again, he pulled me into the dining room.
My eyes found the chair Camden sat in last night and I smiled, remembering how I fed him Dana’s liver.
“Oh, you sick bitch,” Franklin chuckled, finding my box of syringes in a drawer across from the dining table. “Guess pretty rich bitches need their fix too, huh?” He laughed as he dumped out the last of my syringes to the ground, stomping on them.
“Where. Is. It?”
“I told you. I don’t have anything.” I hugged myself as he approached the door to my private office. “Wait! P-Please, no… Not in there,” I begged, and he turned around, shooting his gun at my feet.
“Shut the fuck up, or else I’ll make sure I don’t miss next time,” he said, turning around to push open the door to my office. “Get inside,” he commanded, waving me toward him. Hesitantly, I moved closer to him, and he hit me under my eye with the butt of his gun, forcing me to stumble and fall to the floor.
Franklin stepped over my body and started at one of my bookshelves. He tossed my trinkets and picture frames over his shoulder, the glass from the frames shattering on the floor.
“Where the fuck is your safe, bitch?” Franklin roared as he stormed up to me, forcing me backwards and pinning me to the wall by my throat. He threw a punch at my cheek, hitting the same spot he hit me with his gun.
I wouldn’t last this way without Camden here. I started to struggle against his hold, bringing my hands to the wrist on my neck, digging my fingernails into his skin to try to force him to let go.
“I said, where… is… it…?” With each pause, he slammed me against the wall; the back of my head hit the wall so hard, I felt an indentation left in the wall.
Fighting to stay conscious, the coppery taste of my blood met my tongue, and I forced it out of my mouth, allowing it to fall from the corner of my mouth.
Suddenly, I was very aware of Camden’s presence. His masculine, musky scent hit my nose, and I looked over Franklin’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. My head was screaming in pain, and genuine tears fell at the sight of him.
“Get your fucking hands off of her, now.” Camden growled through clenched teeth. His voice was deeper, darker.
Releasing his grip on my neck, Franklin turned his body around to point his gun at Camden as I fell to the ground.
“Franklin,” Camden growled, never taking his eyes off of Franklin as he aimed his own gun at him.
“Camden,” Franklin replied coldly.
Stepping closer toward me, Camden kept his aim on Franklin as he stood between Franklin and me.
“So this is who you decided to get your dick wet with, huh? At least you found yourself some rich pussy,” Franklin chuckled, lowering his gun. “I just want the money and I’m gone.”
“C-Camden,” I groaned from behind him, with a hoarse voice.
“Oh, that’s right. Sorry about that, son. Her throat will be sore for a while since she got her mouth fucked by a real man,” Franklin chuckled, gripping his pathetic dick over his jeans.
I could physically feel the anger radiating off of Camden as his hands shook at his side. Tossing his gun to the side of the room, he clenched his fists, stalking toward Franklin. He laughed, aiming his gun at Camden again.
“Are you stupid, boy? I can just shoot you and be done with you once and for all.”
“Camden… He’s… He’s the Butcher,” I groaned, fighting to stay conscious.
“What?!” Camden’s voice, full of a rage that made even my body tremble.
“Don’t cry to me about morals now, Camden Sullivan. Not after what you did—”
Not letting him finish his sentence, Camden rushed his father, tackling him to the ground. Franklin’s gun fell to the floor, sliding out of his reach as he struggled to get Camden off of him. Camden landed three punches to his jaw as Franklin reached into his coat pocket.
“Knife!” I yelled with the last of my strength, falling face first to the floor.
“Fuck!” Camden hissed, backing away, holding his bicep. His white shirt started to dampen with his blood as Camden regained his composure, squaring off against Franklin.
“I gotta hand it to you, boy,” Franklin spit blood out of his mouth. “You know how to pick them. That bitch has one pretty fucking mouth.” He chuckled as Camden sized him up.
“C-Camden… I see you. I see you.”
As if my words were my serum, he cracked his neck, letting his darkness consume him. Turning to look at me over his shoulder, his dark eyes met mine and lips curved into a wicked grin.
There he is. There’s my Camden.
Charging at Franklin again, Camden expertly knocked the knife out of his hand, tossing him to the ground a few feet away from me.
“Helena is mine!” Camden growled, kicking him harshly in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. “No one touches what’s mine!” He kicked him again in the head this time, tossing his face to the side and splitting open his lip.
Stalking around him, Camden stopped in front of the fireplace I had on the far wall, and reached for an ax I kept for chopping firewood. Gripping the handle firm in his fist, he slowly walked back toward us, his dark eyes meeting mine as if he was asking permission.
Pushing myself to my knees, I sat on my heels as Camden approached me, caressing my cheek gently with his free hand.
“Helena… I see you too,” he said, his voice so full of love. “I saw in the senator’s office; I saw everything. Somehow… Somehow I knew from the beginning. I was too blinded by my morals, my duty to serve the FBI. I see you, my dark queen…” Bending over, he kissed me gently as I absorbed his words.
His darkness and mine danced together around us, and I knew in this moment that we were one.
“Open the door, Camden. Join me in the dark,” I whispered, his lips hovering over mine.
“Anything for you, Helena,” Camden whispered, gazing into my eyes. As if I was in his mind, I could see his darkness pouring out of the room like a tidal wave, consuming us both.
“Fucking…sick…fucks,” Franklin groaned on the ground. Finding my second wind, I rose to my feet, turning to face him.
Standing over his pathetic body with one foot on either side of his hips, I sat on his stomach, pinning his arms over his head.
“These hands killed innocent people,” I hissed, and without hesitation, Camden lifted the ax over his head and swung it down with all of his strength, severing one of his arms at the elbow.
Blood spurted from his wound, pooling under his arm as he cried out in unimaginable agony. I groaned in approval as Camden forced the ax out of the wood floor, reaching out a chivalrous hand toward me. Placing my hand in his, he guided me to stand away from his father’s bleeding, trembling body.
“I need this, Helena. He will die by my hands.” I nodded, taking the handle of the ax he handed to me, stepping away respectfully.
Picking up my desk chair, I set it back on its legs, took a seat, and placed the ax on the top of my desk. Crossing my leg over my knee, I sat back and watched Camden straddle his father, throwing punch after punch to his face. Alternating fists, he hit him with all his strength until every upswing created a cast off of his father’s blood.
Every time his fist connected, Camden roared in pain, as if his father was slicing the scars on his back for the first time. He released all his suppressed feelings of anger, pain, abandonment… Every ounce of trauma inflicted by his father was returned to him through his brutal fists.
Franklin’s face was bloody and beaten beyond recognition once Camden stopped. His father’s blood soaked his hands, and he held them up to his eye level, studying them, watching the drops of blood fall from his knuckles.
I could see him fighting himself in his mind, still battling his morals. Standing from my chair, I slowly approached him, and he lifted himself off of his father, falling to his knees before me.
“Helena, I—”
“Shh,” I cooed. “You did so good, Camden.” Kneeling in front of him, I cupped his cheeks, guiding his stormy eyes to mine. “I see you, all of you, and it is beautiful. You are perfect, Camden,” I whispered, pulling his lips to mine.
Shifting to sit, he pulled me on top of his lap, and I straddled him, deepening our kiss. His hands ran a path up my thighs, up my body and into my hair, gripping it hard and yanking my head to the side. He kissed down my neck to my shoulder, where my blouse had become torn.
I could feel his stiffening cock underneath me, and I rocked my hips, grinding into him.
“Camden,” I groaned as he ripped open my expensive blouse, revealing my black lace bra. “What do you want?”
“Helena, please. I want to have you right here, right now. I need you,” he whimpered as I returned the favor, ripping open his dress shirt. A few buttons popped off, falling to the floor with tiny clicking sounds. Forcing his arms out of the sleeves, he slid my skirt up to my waist, fumbling with the zipper at the back.
“Is… Is this real?” He halted his movements, his sad eyes finding mine.
“Camden, my love; it’s always been real,” I purred, kissing him with all I had. Cupping his cheeks, I could feel his hot tears start to dampen my palms. “I’m so sorry I made you forget. I needed you—the real you.”
“Stand up, Doctor,” Camden commanded, catching me off guard. I raised a curious eyebrow, watching him breathe in heavy, ragged breaths. Reaching his hand behind me, he landed a harsh slap on my ass, sending electricity through my body. “I said stand the fuck up,” he growled, and I smirked, obeying him.
Standing up in front of him, with one foot on either side of his outstretched legs, his hungry eyes roamed my bruised, bloody body.
“Strip for me, baby. I want you to show me what’s mine,” he groaned, unfastening his belt and pants, reaching his hand inside to fist his cock.
“You first,” I teased, stepping away from him a few steps. Camden lifted his hips, sliding his slacks and boxer briefs over his ass, and kicked them off. Stretching his legs out slightly, he gripped his thick cock in his hand, pumping himself in long, languid strokes.
“Strip for me,” he commanded again, and I reached around to my back, unsnapping my bra, and letting it fall to the floor. Camden’s pupils dilated, seeing my bare chest as he continued his slow strokes on his length. “That’s it, baby. Keep going.”
Pulling my bunched up skirt back down and in place, I reached behind me again, unzipping the zipper. Giving him a mischievous grin, I walked up closer, turning my back to him and stepping my feet over so I was standing in between his legs.
With his face inches from my ass, I bent over while slowly pulling down my skirt and thong at the same time, giving him the perfect view of my wet cunt. He groaned as I stepped out of my skirt, pulling my hips to his mouth as he devoured my pussy from behind.
My hands gripped his thighs as he flattened his tongue on me, dragging it up my slit toward my ass.
“Fucking perfect,” he groaned, ending in a whisper.
His father’s bloody pool grew as he bled out, surrounding us. Even from this angle, seeing Camden naked and surrounded by blood flooded my body with arousal.
“Camden,” I whispered.
“Turn around and ride me, Doctor. I want to feel my cock stretch out that pretty, perfect little pussy,” he groaned, and I obeyed. Lowering myself down to my knees, straddling him, he landed a harsh slap on my ass again, pulling my breast to his mouth.
“Oh, Camden,” I groaned, trying to lower myself onto him, desperate for friction.
“Tell me… tell me you want me too, Helena,” Camden groaned, releasing my nipple and guiding my hips to hover over his throbbing cock.
“I’ve wanted you since I saw you in my lecture at the FBI Academy, Camden,” I whimpered, slowly lowering myself onto his cock. “I followed your cases, your press conferences—fuck,” I groaned as I fully sat on his length.
“Helena…” Camden moaned, guiding my hands to wrap around his neck. “Take me, please. Make me yours forever.”