4. Bishop
I’m vaguely aware of being untied, but my body doesn’t allow me to open my eyes.
The grogginess weighs too heavily to force myself to do much of anything right now, but all I can think about is Camilla.
After taking two hits to the head within a few hours, I should probably be more worried about getting some kind of medical attention, but that’s the last thing I can think about.
Davenport’s going to take her, and there’s not a fucking thing I can do about it.
I’m thrown over a large shoulder, and whoever it is, grunts at my weight. I’m not a small guy by any means, so I’m quietly curious to find out which one of Davenport’s assholes is strong enough to move me.
Heavy footsteps pound through my aching head, and I try to track the direction we’re walking, but my senses are shot. If I didn’t have a concussion after the first hit, I definitely do now.
A burst of cold air surrounds us, and I realize we’re outside. Are they moving me to another location? Does that mean my dad and the others found me?
“It was nice doing business with you.” Charles’s voice grates on my nerves, but I still can’t find my way from the darkness.
“Fuck off,” whoever’s carrying me grunts as they lower me into a car, laying me across soft leather seats.
It only takes a few seconds for me to realize I recognize that voice, it’s one I’ve heard every day for my whole life.
Kaos.
But what’s he doing here? Davenport wouldn’t hand me over without some kind of exchange.
The door slams and muffled voices hold my attention for a few moments before I allow the fatigue to drag me under again.
The next time I wake, the low hum of the engine fills my ears, and I can finally drag my eyes open. The car is dark and quiet, but I can make out Kaos’s profile, his jaw tense, and his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that I think he may snap the thing.
“Kaos?” I croak.
He glances over his shoulder, and I don’t miss the flash of regret. “We’ll be home in a second.”
The car turns a corner, and the familiar brick walls of the alley appear in the windows.
I drop my head back to the seat, and I wince as the soft leather hits the lump from the second hit. Fuck, they got me good.
I take a deep breath and force myself up, assessing the rest of my body for any injuries I may have missed, but there are none. Aside from a couple of bumps and a bruised ego, I’m fine.
The lights of the garage are blinding, but I shove open the door and force my legs to hold my weight as I climb from Kaos’s matte black SUV.
“What the fuck happened?” Crew barks from the doorway, the sound of his voice making me wince. I need some painkillers and my bed as soon as humanly possible.
I wonder if Camilla will nurse me back to health.
As if a cold bucket of water has been dumped over my head, I look up at my dad. Panic rages through my body, and when I meet his mismatched gaze, I know everything I need to know without him saying a word.
“Where is she?” I demand, forcing my legs to move toward the main complex. I need to see her. I need to hold her.
Something akin to regret crosses Kaos’s face as I pass him, but it’s my dad’s reaction that tells me everything I need to know.
“Bishop, I’m sorry,” he starts as I shove myself past him, not pausing to let him finish.
I won’t believe the words that are about to come out of his mouth until I see for myself.
I storm down the hallway, my head pounding with every step that I take, but I don’t let it slow me down.
“Bishop,” Crew calls from behind me, his heavy footsteps falling on the hardwood floors as he chases me down. “She’s not here.”
I burst into her room, her vanilla and strawberry scent hitting me the second the door swings open. But as I survey the room, I realize my suspicions were correct. She’s not here. She’s gone.
Kovu stands in the middle of the room, his eyes murderous as he takes in the feminine space around us. It didn’t start that way. It was just a basic room with all the things a guest would need, but over the six weeks she was here, we bought more and more that helped to make the space seem like it was hers, rather than a spare bedroom.
I’ve seen my best friend look angry before, more times than I can count, in fact, but never have I seen him look quite so unhinged.
“Where the fuck is she?” he growls, advancing on me before I can even think to answer him, but before he can hit me, Kaos steps between us, his hulking body acting as a barrier between us.
“Fighting isn’t going to get us anywhere,” he says calmly, but there’s a tension in his words I’m not used to hearing.
“Was it you?” Kovu snaps. “The four of us are the only people in the city aside from Wyatt who can shut down the security system in this place, and seeing as I had eyes on Crew the whole time and Wyatt has been with us, that only leaves the two of you.”
The accusation hangs heavy between us, but I know it’s true. I knew it from the moment we stepped foot out into the cold New York evening.
Davenport told me the only way I was getting out of there alive was for us to hand over Camilla, and from Kaos’s silence, I think it’s pretty fucking obvious that’s exactly what happened.
“I spent the last few hours tied to a chair, so it sure as hell wasn’t me,” I grit out.
I turn to Kaos and guilt tells me everything I need to know.
He did it.
He handed over Camilla.
The woman who made me feel for the first time in my life. Who gave me a piece of myself I never realized was missing.
Before I’m aware of the decision, my fist sails toward his face, and he doesn’t bother blocking it.
Perhaps he knows he deserves whatever we’re going to do to him, because for every bit of pain she feels, I’m going to make sure he feels it a thousand times worse.