50. Kovu
Iwash the blood from my hands in the garage, quickly removing most of the evidence of my kills. After the first few times I came home covered in another asshole’s blood and it made Camilla panic, I’ve made an effort not to walk into the room like I’ve just committed a massacre, even if that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.
As nice as it is to have her worry for me, I don’t like seeing her stressed, something I won’t always be able to control.
I walk through the complex, stopping by her bedroom door. Or perhaps I should call it our bedroom, seeing as I haven’t spent a night away from her since Bishop found her. I wonder what the others would think about permanently moving her into my room.
Bishop would probably be pissed about it, but it might be worth pursuing. Maybe I’ll just do it without telling anyone and watch them freak out.
I chuckle to myself as I push the door open and find the room empty.
Weird. With the way Camilla was feeling earlier, I expected her to spend the whole day in bed with the blankets pulled over her head.
I shrug and move down the hallway to the living room she often sits in during the day, but there’s no sign of my little lamb there either.
A sliver of panic creeps its way into my chest as I make my way to the next level. Maybe they’re in the kitchen or Crew’s office. They’ve been getting closer the last week, so perhaps he took over for Bishop.
But when I clear the second level, the panic flaring in my chest is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. Worry and panic are not things men like me are intimately familiar with. The inside of the human body as you skin someone alive? Absolutely. But not this. I try to think back to the last time I cared about anything enough to feel this anxious, but I can’t think of a single instance.
I pull my phone out and try calling Bishop’s phone, only to be met with his voicemail a few seconds later.
Fuck.
I bring up the family group chat and type out a quick message before waiting with bated breath for their responses.
Kovu: Bish, you still got Cami with you?
Crew: You can’t find them?
Kovu: No. I’ve cleared the complex, apart from the top level.
Kaos: You idiots really lost her?
Crew: She’s probably with Bishop.
Kovu: Well, they’re not in the fucking complex.
I shut the chat because, obviously, Bishop’s not going to respond and the other two are useless.
I bring up the tracking app we each have on our phones, connected to the tracker we all have on our person, just in case shit ever goes sideways.
I huff out a frustrated sigh while I wait for the app to load, and when I realize he’s outside of the complex, I’m both relieved and fucking livid.
He took her out.
He took my little lamb outside the safety of these walls, of our fortress, into a city teaming with people that could recognize her.
I know we can’t keep Camilla locked up here forever, but it’s too soon. We haven’t figured out what the hell we’re doing with Charles yet, and that means it’s not safe for her.
I take the steps down to the ground level, storming down the hallway until I’m in the garage, and check the map again. They’re getting closer, which makes me think they’re on their way back, but I’m fucking furious he would take her out at all.
If anyone was going to pull a stupid stunt like this, it would have been me. I’m the indulgent one, at least when it comes to Camilla. So what the fuck was so important that he took her into the heart of New York City at lunchtime?
The door swings open, and Bishop shoves my little lamb through the door before quickly slamming it shut behind them.
Camilla is trembling, her entire body shaking like a leaf as her breaths come through her chest too quickly. Her cheeks are pale, the color I’ve grown used to seeing in her has faded.
I move my eyes to Bishop, his own face ashen as he looks our girl up and down three times, as if reminding himself that she’s okay.
“Where the fuck were you?” I bellow.
Camilla flinches, her arms moving to cover her face defensively, and my chest seizes at the sight, at the fucking idea that she could be afraid of me.
How could she ever think I would hurt her?
Your reputation probably doesn’t help, I tell myself, but I force myself to stop a few feet away from them.
Bishop tucks her under his arm, and she folds herself into his arms, a rough sob cracking from her throat. “It’s okay, love. You’re okay.”
“What the hell happened?” I demand softly, forcing my voice to remain even despite how the monster inside me rattles the chains, begging to be released.
“I took Camilla out for ice cream. We took every precaution, but I just wanted to get her out of the house for a little while. On our way back, I noticed a guy following us, and he had to be dealt with.”
I glare at him before my eyes flick back to my little lamb in his arms. “You killed him?”
Bishop shakes his head slightly, and I stare at the back of the woman who has taken our lives by storm.
“I did,” she whispers.
“That’s why you’re upset?”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t care about that,” she chokes. “It was the alley. Being cornered. It was like when Charles’s men trapped me, I couldn’t see past the flashbacks.”
My chest constricts at her admission, and I take careful steps toward them, desperate to feel her against me.
Once I’m within reach, Bishop turns her gently, and she immediately seeks comfort in my arms, her tears soaking through my T-shirt.
This is the first time she’s truly shown us her weakness. For weeks, she’s kept a brave face. She’s constantly shrugged off her trauma and made it seem like everything was okay. But not now.
I meet Bishop’s eyes over her shoulder, and he gives a gentle nod as if he can read my mind.
She trusts us. She wouldn’t be crying in our arms if she didn’t, and that thought makes the gaping hole in my chest feel a little more full.
If she trusts us, we might be able to convince her to stay. And then we’ll have it all.