15. Chapter Fifteen #3
“One day,” I whisper, my voice steady despite the tears streaming silently down my face, “you’re going to hit me.”
He stiffens, shock flickering behind that carefully practiced mask, but I don’t stop. I take a step closer, refusing to blink, my voice raw, prophetic.
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But someday, you’re going to raise your hand, and this perfect mask you’ve built will shatter.
And when you do, when your knuckles bruise my skin, they’ll still choose you.
” I gesture toward my parents, my chest aching bitterly.
“They’ll make excuses for you. They’ll blame me.
Because protecting you is easier than admitting they let me suffer. ”
He doesn’t deny it, doesn’t argue. He just watches me, eyes darkening dangerously, fury twisting beneath his skin like a shadow fighting to break free. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, the truth a living, breathing thing between us.
Without another word, I pull the diamond ring from my finger, placing it gently, final and irrevocable, on the pristine tablecloth. It gleams cruelly in the candlelight, mocking every lie we ever told ourselves.
I rise to my feet, legs trembling, heart raw, exposed, bleeding out in front of everyone who’s never truly seen me. The chair scrapes harshly against the polished floor, the sound deafening in the painful silence.
And finally, for the first time in my life, I don’t ask for permission.
I just walk away, away from the lies, the expectations, the suffocating charade of perfection, leaving behind the wreckage of who they wanted me to be, and stepping into the terrifying freedom of who I might become.
***
The sky splits open the second I step outside.
Rain pours down in sheets, heavy droplets slamming against my skin, drenching my hair, my dress, my broken pride.
I don’t shield myself. I don’t run. I just stand there on the sidewalk, head tilted back, staring blindly into the black sky, eyes open wide as water streams down my cheeks, soaking through my carefully constructed armor.
Lightning cracks violently, followed immediately by thunder, deep, rumbling, echoing through my bones like judgment. Or freedom. Or both.
I stand there until everything blurs.
Until my mascara runs down my face, until my makeup washes away, until every carefully curated illusion slides off my skin in rivers of black and gold. Until every lie I’ve told myself, every mask I’ve worn, dissolves into the puddle forming beneath my heels.
It feels like baptism.
It feels like drowning.
It feels like finally breathing.
When the family car rolls up beside me, tires hissing over wet pavement, I don’t even hesitate. I climb inside, soaking wet, trembling, my chest heaving with adrenaline, desperation, hope.
“Where to, Miss Sinclair?” my driver asks, professional and discreet, no questions, no judgment in his voice.
I pause, shivering violently, droplets of rain slipping from my skin onto the buttery leather seats. My pulse thrashes wildly against my throat, demanding I reconsider, but the words leave my mouth before I can think twice.
“The Langford,” I whisper, my voice strained, breaking. “West 57th.”
The driver nods without a word, eyes carefully blank. The privacy screen slides smoothly upward, sealing me into the quiet, shadowed backseat alone, exposed, nerves stripped bare beneath damp satin wrap dress and a reckless heartbeat.
I stare down at my lap, fingers twisting anxiously. He could slam the door in my face. He could sneer and tell me to fuck off, and I wouldn’t blame him. God, I’d deserve it.
But the need burning through my veins, raw, desperate, aching, won’t let me turn back.
Because every secret, every broken piece of me is screaming for Kane.
For his hands, his mouth, his cruelty that cuts so deep it bleeds truth.
I crave his brutal honesty, the way he owns every inch of my body, mind, and soul.
My breath stays trapped in my chest, refusing to move until the Langford rises sharply into view, towering like a dark fortress against a storm-heavy sky. Jagged rivers of rain streak down tinted windows, blurring the world outside.
The car glides silently to a stop, engine humming gently, waiting.
Fear claws up my throat, fierce and paralyzing, but I shove it back. Determination fills the void left behind, hot and reckless, refusing to let me run again.
I step out into the rain, the storm lashing mercilessly against my bare skin, punishing me, soaking through my dress in seconds as I cross the sidewalk.
The lobby attendant’s eyes widen in startled recognition, flickering uncertainly over my dripping hair and trembling frame, but he buzzes me up without a word.
I don’t care.
The elevator doors close, sealing me inside, alone, heart hammering wildly, pulse echoing in my ears. The numbers rise, slow, merciless…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…each glowing digit ratcheting my anxiety tighter.
Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight...
I watch, helpless and desperate, as the numbers climb higher, each one pulling me closer to him. And then…
Ding.
The doors slide open to the penthouse floor.
My heels leave wet footprints behind me on his pristine marble hallway, evidence of my unraveling. My breathing hitches, lungs straining painfully with anticipation, fear, need, hope.
I freeze outside his door, heart pounding so violently it hurts, my chest heaving as panic and desperation battle inside me.
My skin feels raw, every nerve frayed, twisted, tortured.
My hand trembles in midair, inches from polished wood, and for a heartbeat I consider running away from this, away from him, away from every truth I’m terrified to face.
But I don’t run. Instead, I knock.
Once. Twice.
My breath stalls, shuddering helplessly in my chest as silence presses back at me, merciless, unbearable. I knock again, louder now, fist slamming against the door as urgency overtakes shame, as the ache inside me screams louder than the voice in my head begging me to leave.
Footsteps.
Steady. Controlled.
The lock clicks open, brutal and final, echoing like a bullet in my chest. The door swings inward, and the world stops spinning entirely.
Kane.
He fills the doorway, body tense, muscles coiled tight, every inch of him radiating fury and hunger and something raw and savage enough to destroy me.
His dark eyes burn, glinting with shock that swiftly twists into blistering rage, melting into pure, unchecked need.
It slices through me, stripping me down to nothing but bone and blood and a heartbeat begging to be claimed again.
His knuckles whiten as his grip tightens brutally on the doorframe, like it’s the only thing keeping him from tearing me apart.
His jaw clenches violently, eyes dropping slowly, deliberately, taking in every broken, desperate piece of me: drenched hair tangled against flushed cheeks, mascara smeared down my face like battle scars, lips swollen from biting back sobs.
His gaze pauses on my bare finger…my left hand stripped of the lies I wore like armor.
The silence between us stretches, savage and punishing, until my chest feels split wide open beneath the weight of everything I can’t say.
“I left,” I whisper, voice cracking softly, trembling yet utterly sure. “I left everything.”
His eyes narrow dangerously, tension rippling off him, dark and lethal. My name on his lips is a threat, a warning, a promise. “Camille…”
“Kane,” I breathe out, choking on the thousand apologies clawing up my throat, each more brutal than the last. “I’m so…I'm so sorry.”
Rain trails down my face, dripping steadily from my chin, splattering onto the flawless marble between us, staining his pristine space with my chaos, my brokenness, my truth.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but his stare darkens further, raw intensity blazing behind his midnight eyes. Rage tangles with desperate hunger, a savage storm barely restrained beneath that beautiful, brutal surface.
Slowly, trembling, I step closer, closing the torturous inches separating us.
Rain slips down my throat, over my collarbone, my dress clinging like a confession to every fragile, vulnerable inch of my skin.
His gaze burns over me, silent and ruthless, stripping me bare.
I lift my chin higher, baring my throat, surrendering every part of myself that he’s already claimed and ruined, begging him to do it again.
“If you slam this door in my face,” I whisper, voice shredded, dignity abandoned, “I’ll deserve it. But I’m here, Kane. I’m not running anymore.”
My chest heaves violently, lungs desperate for air, but my eyes hold his relentlessly. Every secret, every lie, every truth I’ve hidden crashes down at his feet, a silent, messy offering.
“I’m standing right here,” I tell him, voice splintering, shaking beneath the weight of everything I feel.
“If you need me on my knees, I’ll kneel.
If you need me broken, I’ll break. If you need me naked, stripped bare, I’ll take my dress off right now.
But I’m done running from you, from us, from whatever twisted, brutal, fucked-up thing we’ve become. ”
A muscle twitches in his jaw, fists white-knuckled against the doorframe, the pulse in his throat racing violently.
“I want this,” I whisper fiercely, agony slicing through every syllable, tears mixing with the rain, blurring everything but him. “I want you. Every ruthless, dangerous, terrifying part of who you are, who we are together. I want all of it, Kane.”
He stays silent, his breathing harsh, eyes burning into me, the storm raging inside him darker and more dangerous than the one soaking my skin.
“Say something,” I beg, desperation clawing its way up my throat, shredding every ounce of pride I’ve ever had. “Anything. Punish me, scream at me, ruin me, but don’t leave me in this fucking silence. Don’t leave me here like this.”