56. Kaos
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
KAOS
T he shower runs on the other side of the closed door, and I pace back and forth to settle some of the nervous energy beating through my veins.
I hate having Camilla out of my sight, and it’s obvious the others do as well considering how many times their own attention has locked on the closed door.
“What’s our plan from here?” I ask, needing to talk about something other than the woman who has me tied up in knots, especially after almost losing her tonight.
Crew looks up from his phone, but his eyes are devoid of emotion. Either he’s too tired to feel anything, or he’s shutting down to protect himself.
“Once Camilla is asleep, I need to get some work done. I need to get ahead of this before Caleb and Charles can run with it.”
Bishop looks like he’s about to argue, but instead his gaze locks on the door again as if he expects her to open it any second now.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I want to be the one that kills him,” I force the words out. I’ve been thinking about it since all this started, but the way he spoke to Camilla, the way he tried to justify her choosing to kill any of us. He doesn’t deserve to live, and as long as he’s alive, he’s a threat to all of us, especially her.
I get a curious glance from each of them, but Crew nods as he turns his attention back to his phone, his brows furrowed as he types something out.
“You need rest too, Dad,” Bishop says. It’s not often he calls him that, and that’s why Crew’s eyes pop back up to his son.
“I don’t have that luxury right now,” he snaps.
“You’re running,” Bishop challenges.
“No, I’m trying to keep us all alive.”
“You think the shit that Caleb was sprouting was true. You think you’re too old for her. You think she won’t want to have kids with you.”
“Shut up, Bishop. You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” He raises a brow as he prowls toward his father. “You’ve already started pulling away from her. From the woman that has put all her trust in us even when we’ve broken it over and over again, and now that she needs you to put your trust in her for once, you’re retreating? You can’t trust her to do what’s best for her? For all of us?”
“Shut. Up,” he growls through clenched teeth.
“No. I won’t let you fuck this up. Not for you, and not for any of us. Camilla is the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to any of us, and I refuse to let your fear dictate any of our future.”
Crew steps forward until his chest is pressed to Bishop’s, and I step toward them, ready to get involved if I need to.
But before either of them can get another word out, the shower shuts off, and a few seconds later, the door opens. Steam billows from the bathroom as Camilla steps into the room with just a towel wrapped around her still-wet body.
She looks between the father and son, who haven’t stepped back from one another, her mouth slightly parted as she takes in the scene.
“No fighting,” she whispers. “Not tonight. We’re all too tired, too emotional, too depleted that we’re at risk of saying things we don’t mean.”
I step toward her and bundle her against me, immediately feeling at ease as soon as she settles in my arms. “You got it, Princess,” I murmur, sending a pointed look at them over her shoulder. “No fighting.”
She relaxes in my arms, and some of the tension rolls from my shoulders.
She’s safe.
We’re all safe.
Even if it’s just for tonight.
Kovu appears in the doorway wearing just a pair of boxers, his eyes scoping the room for threats before they settle on Camilla in my arms and quickly moves to us. He’s never had an issue sharing, but he needs her more than the rest of us do right now.
I step back just in time for him to envelop her, and her eyes fall closed as he holds her tight against his chest.
“Let’s get you into bed, big guy,” she says softly. “Why don’t the rest of you go get cleaned up, and then we’ll get some sleep?”
Crew opens his mouth to argue, probably with some excuse about why he can’t stay and why he has to go to his office, but Bishop glares at him, and whatever he sees in his son’s eyes has him snapping his mouth shut again.
Somehow, I don’t think this truce is going to last very long.