27. Camela
Camela
Chapter 27
Vincenzo pushes the door open to the house, letting me pass through. He’s pushed this very door open for me a few dozen times before, in the exact same manner, but this time I notice the creak it makes.
There’s a finality to it. This could very well be the last time this door remains open for me.
I step in, sorrow underlining my every step. I think back to all the things I could have done differently. There are a million regrets. Maybe I could have told him the truth earlier.
Perhaps I could have killed the Temptress in a different manner, one where I wouldn’t have been caught. The one thing I don’t regret? Pricking myself on that arrow and falling in love with Vincenzo Consolini.
He puts his hand on the small of my back, a gesture of kindness I know I don’t deserve and leads me up the stairs. I walk slowly, savoring his touch, holding back the sob that’s choking the air out of me. This could be the last time he touches me with such tenderness.
I close my eyes and inhale the air he breathes out when he opens the door to my room. He is my lifeline, and he doesn’t even know it.
“After you,” he says, his voice wrapping around me.
I open my eyes, and I find myself drowning in his beautiful, striking blue eyes. It takes courage, the kind that makes a soldier throw himself in front of a bullet to save a friend, to make me walk into that room.
By the time he closes the door behind himself, I’m thinking I have no idea what state I’ll leave this room in. Lover? Foe? Dead?
An eerie silence wraps around us and my knees shake so hard, they almost buckle, so I take a few fragile steps and sit in a chair by the window.
Never, not once, did a kill affect me physically like my fear of losing him is doing now. The thought of his reaction to my confession starts my teeth chattering, but I cannot keep this from him any longer.
The lies are eating me from within. I truly love this man, and for that reason, I owe him the truth.
The clink of glass against the wooden table is the only sound in the room as Vincenzo pours two glasses of scotch. His movements are deliberate and steady, speaking volumes of his unwavering strength even in the midst of uncertainty.
He walks over and hands me a glass with an encouraging nod.
I take a sip, savor the burn on my tongue and then comes the dreaded question. “Camela,” he pulls up a chair, sitting right opposite me. “What the hell happened back there?”
I glance at him, my eyes wide with fear. Images of the ruins and the Temptress flash through my mind. I know I have to tell Vincenzo everything, but how do I even begin?
I take a breath, and hear the raspy influx of panicked air.
"Take your time," he says softly. "I'm here to listen, Camela."
Doesn’t he understand that his kindness is only making this conversation harder?
I take another sip and close my eyes, but the tears still stream through. “Shh,” he whispers, leaning closer. I feel the touch of his calloused fingers on my cheeks, wiping them away.
“I’ve lost two of the most important people in my life in the past three years. Antonio and Professor Castellano. I’d hate to see you join that list. They meant the world to me, you know?” his voice, deep and gravelly, sears into my soul.
I open my eyes to see his furrowed brows almost touching my forehead. When he speaks again, I feel the air around us shift, his lips almost near mine. “I don’t want to lose you, Camela. I need to know the truth so I can protect you if you’re in harm’s way. Please, whatever it is, rip off the band-aid. I can’t have you in the ground too.”
His hands clutch mine with such possessive force that my fingers hurt. I pull them back and turn away my face. He pushes himself away from me, a flicker of hurt in his expression.
He doesn’t know I did this for him, because after what I tell him, he won’t want me anywhere near him. My heart breaks, shatters almost. He thinks he needs to protect me, when all along, it is I who unleashed the chaos in his world.
The greatest apology I can give him is the truth.
“I don’t know where to begin, Vincenzo,” I tell him. My voice comes out shaky and nervous. But, a small smile plays on his lips. He’s pleased with me. “But I think we can begin from the very start.”
He leans back and crosses one leg over the other, sipping his scotch, his gaze tearing into mine. "I was raised by a man known only as 'The Handler’.”
“At the orphanage?” he frowns.
My heart attacks my ribs, and a pain crawls down my chest and arms. “There never was an orphanage. I was raised in the woods somewhere, alone, in isolation with another boy by The Handler.”
Vincenzo’s face darkens as he realizes this story will be darker than he thought. “I never knew his name,” I continue. “It’s been kept a secret for he trained us both to become,” my voice hitches here, but I just rip off that band-aid, “assassins without remorse or mercy."
He pushes his chair further away from me, the horror he feels written clearly on his face. I pause, searching for the right words, the ones that might somehow soften the blow of what I am about to say.
But there are none. There is only truth, raw and unfiltered, and the hope that it will be enough for him to forgive me.
"Back when we first met, I wasn't just a random stranger who stumbled into your life. I was on a mission, one that I never thought would lead me here, to this moment.” I swallow hard, trying to buy time I know won’t matter, one last second, where we belonged to each other.
He leans forward, his voice cold and detached. “What was the mission?” he asks, stealing away the time I so needed.
I close my eyes and speak, my words a near whisper I pray he misses. “Vincenzo, I was the one who was trained and sent to kill your friend, Professor Julian Castellano."
He doesn't react immediately, but I can hear the subtle tightening of his jaw as he processes what I've just said. My heart clenches, fearing that this confession might be the end for us. But I owe him the truth – all of it.
“And… and I did,” I add, opening my eyes. “I killed him.”
Vincenzo's stunned silence cuts through me, a tangible presence in the room that chokes the life out of me. Seeing the painful betrayal etched on his face is a blade twisting into my very core.
He recoils from me, pushing his chair back further, his eyes narrowed. His hands are red, from how hard he clenches them.
"During my mission," I continue, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, "I discovered an ancient artifact – the golden arrow. The one your men are searching for. For the first time in my life, I stole something from a mission. I took it as a souvenir, but it became so much more.”
I look at his contorted face, and I am the cause.
“How many?” he asks, through gritted teeth.
A moment of confusion sways me from the point. “H..how many?”
“People did you kill?” he asks, even-toned.
Suddenly, I understand what he’s asking.
My hands tremble in my lap, and I force myself to take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. “I never killed your brother,” I say.
He sucks in air, through his nose, and parts his lips, letting it go. For a second, I think he’s relieved. I need him to understand, to see that despite the darkness of my past, my love for him is real.
“I never told the Handler I stole that arrow,” I continue. “He sent me out to look for it. He knew your relationship with the professor, how close you were. He thought you had the arrow, and he wanted it. I didn’t know you, and so I remained quiet. Besides, I couldn’t exactly tell the Handler what I did. The plan was to infiltrate your party, and kill you. The Handler would then follow in search of the object.”
“Then what happened?” he asks, refusing to look at me. His eyes are closed, like he’s trying to picture the truth I hid from him, and reconcile it with what I showed him.
“I planned to kill you,” I whisper “that night in the garden. Then I pricked myself, by accident, on the arrow. And it was as if the air around us was set alight, burning in the most beautiful colors, and it passed through me. Life itself. A force so powerful, that I thought the world couldn’t exist without you in it. I couldn’t kill you, Vincenzo. I didn’t know back then, but it was that moment I felt love, for you.”
His eyes snap open and lock onto mine, incredulously. “You didn’t know it was love?” he asks.
I shake my head and wring my hands in my lap. I look down, letting all emotion pass through me. "From the moment I fell in love with you, Vincenzo, everything changed. My world shifted, and the lines between right and wrong switched places. I found myself questioning everything I'd been taught, everything I'd believed in. The Handler thought I was weak for not killing you. He said he’d do it himself. Since then, I’ve been staying by your side, trying to protect you. That woman in The Forum, she was there to kill you. There were … two more before her.”
As the words pour out of me, I can feel my love for Vincenzo swelling in my chest, threatening to burst forth like an unstoppable wave. It's a powerful force, one that both terrifies and exhilarates me.
I know I did the right thing, protecting him.
“Before her?” Vincenzo gasps.
“The waiter in the restaurant and an assassin at the night market,” I tell him everything. The how, the where, the what.
"Vincenzo, I know you must be hurt and furious and might not believe a word I say, but I tell you the truth: my feelings for you are genuine," I plead, my eyes brimming with tears. "Even if it costs me everything, I need you to know I wouldn’t have changed the past. I wish it had been different. I wish your friend still lived, but I’d safeguard you in every damn situation from the Handler.”
My heart hammers in my chest, and I struggle to find the words that will reveal the depths of my feelings. "Vincenzo," I whisper, barely able to control the tremor in my voice, "I... I love you." My eyes search his face for a reaction, desperate for reassurance that he won't turn away from me after hearing the truth.
His expression is unreadable, but his eyes remain locked on mine, encouraging me to continue. The vulnerability I feel in this moment is overwhelming, but I know I must face it head-on if there's any hope of saving our future together.
"Since I fell in love with you, my world changed. You became everything I didn't know I needed," I admit, tears threatening to spill from the corners of my eyes. "The myth of the arrow isn’t a lie. That prick is so powerful that how could it not have been destined for us to be here the way we are?”
I stand up, my legs feeling weak beneath me, and walk over to the cupboard. My hands tremble as I reach for the hidden safe behind a stack of books.
Swallowing hard, I enter the code and retrieve the golden arrow. Its faint glow casts a soft light in the room. I pick it up, a heat burning through my skin.
Slowly, I walk over to him and extend my hands with the arrow towards him. His eyes widen, and I see the reflection of the gilded edges, the glow, the inverted heart, the small emeralds and rubies - all of it in his eyes.
“The light!” he murmurs, entranced, as he reaches over to touch it. An electric current passes through me and does through him, too, for he recoils from the arrow’s touch and melts further into his chair, still staring at it as it lies in my hands.
“This is what the professor was protecting,” I tell him. “This is what the Handler seeks. This is what made me fall in love with you, and this…” I say, with finality, “is the reason I was sent on the mission to kill the professor. And now, it's what ties us together, whether we like it or not.”
I watch as Vincenzo's eyes widen, the weight of my revelation sending shockwaves through his body. His gaze is fixed on the golden arrow in my trembling hands, and I can see the gears turning in his mind as he tries to piece together the gravity of the situation.
"Camela... What does this mean?" he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, mirroring my own vulnerability from moments ago.
As I say the words, my heart races, fearing his reaction. Yet, I know I must be honest. I take a deep breath and continue, "This arrow has brought us together, and I believe it has a greater purpose. It’s said to belong to the gods themselves. But I also know that you have every right to be angry with me. I am angry that I kept this from you for so long that I let our love grow while hiding this secret while being the perpetrator of your friend’s death. From this point on, the arrow is yours to do with what you like. Your friend wanted you to find it. Well, here it is."
I take his hand, a shiver going down my spine and force it into his hands.
He looks at it, turning it around in his fingers, then looks up at me. With all the courage I can muster, I jut out my jaw and tell him the truth. “I deserve to be punished. You have every right to seek revenge, and whatever my fate ought to be, it’s yours to decide. But, there is one truth stronger than all the rest. It’s that I love you, Vincenzo Consolini. Enough to give my life in place of yours, should the need ever arise.”