19. Kaos
Islam my fists into the punching bag over and over again, my hands aching from how long I’ve been in here. My knuckles are long past split, and blood slips down my arms where my button-down shirt is shoved up to my elbow.
I didn’t bother getting changed when we got back to the compound. I needed to let out some of this anger before I turned on someone who didn’t deserve it, when at the end of the day, the only person who deserves pain right now is me.
This is all my fault.
Memories of Camilla on that stage, her perfect body on display for all those assholes, make me hit the bag harder. I truly can’t remember a time this much anger has coursed through my body, and I realize just how much I care about the woman that walked into our lives and turned them upside down.
My phone lights up on the mat a few feet from where I’m standing, and I consider ignoring it, but decide against it. No matter how badly I want to lock myself in the gym and beat the shit out of an inanimate object, I still have a job to do.
I pick it up and answer it without bothering to check the caller ID. “This is Kaos,” I growl into the line. No one calls me and expects to have a polite conversation, so I don’t see any sense in being nice to whoever is calling at midnight.
“I’ll help you,” Knox says on the other end of the line, and my stomach seizes. I must be quiet for too long because he continues. “I’ll get Camilla out tonight. Meet me at Charles’s building at three, and I’ll bring her to you.”
I get the sense he’s about to hang up so I quickly ask the only thing I can think of. “What made you change your mind?”
He sighs, and I hear the indecision in the sound. “What he did tonight, what he made her do, and what he did to her when we got back to the penthouse, I can’t stand for it. Women and children should be protected at all costs. My father taught me that, and it’s clear my uncle skipped that lesson with Charles.”
My stomach rolls at the images that enter my mind, at all the things he could have done to her in the time since he hauled her out of that strip club, but before I have a chance to thank him, he hangs up.
It’s not until I drop the phone back on the mat that I realize that’s the most he’s ever said to me.
Without hesitation, I move toward the attached bathrooms to wrap my torn-up hands before making my way upstairs to Crew’s office.
I find him and Bishop sitting in the corner seating area, each with a glass of whiskey in their hands and their ties loose around their necks.
The last time I saw either of them appear this helpless was when my father died and we vowed we would never lose another member of our family. I was just too stupid to realize Camilla wasn’t just some girl. She was, in fact, a part of us.
I won’t make that same mistake again.