Chapter 28
Camila
‘Luke’s coming’ are all the words I need to hear to be snapped out of the mental purgatory I’d locked myself in.
I ping my gaze to the man who knocked Xander’s gun out of my grip, spun me around, locked his forearm around my neck, and led me downstairs.
To this.
To the scene in front of me.
I might have been checked out, but I’ve been hearing and seeing everything.
The man being tied up.
Xander torturing him.
Jacques joining in.
I’ve been around violence. I’ve seen and experienced it first-hand.
But I’ve never had someone become violent for me.
My body still trembles from the aftershocks of encountering my captor as I dart my gaze to Jacques.
I want nothing more than to look at Xander, to feel a sense of safety, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s like my brain is acting on autopilot, and it knows that if I even dare a glance at him, leaving London would be a more difficult task than it needs to be.
But I can still see him out of the corner of my eye. There’s a mix of emotions on his face—hurt, anger, confusion.
Jacques breaks eye contact and spins around to face Xander.
“Xander.” His voice is pure command, but it does nothing to snap Xander out of his trance.
Aidan’s amusement fills the silent room. “Didn’t expect that, did you, Alexander?”
That’s all it takes for Xander to tug the pistol out of Aidan’s leg and aim the trigger at his head. An ear-splitting noise erupts as Aidan slumps forward with blood shooting out of the back of his head onto the pole, small bits of flesh falling onto the stage.
Xander is still looking at me, and it takes everything in me not to lock eyes with him.
It takes me a minute to realise I’m still in the outfit I danced in however long ago. I’ve lost track of time. Everything is happening in a blur of blood and unveiled secrets.
Several people flood into the club, along with noise of chatter and hushed conversations. All dressed in black hazmat suits. All carrying body bags. They get to work as soon as they step through the door.
Two more men dressed in all-black suits file in after them, immediately making a beeline for Jacques and Xander.
I catch Xander shaking his head before I finally let myself take in the scene around me.
All my senses start to come back. The metallic smell of blood fills my nose first, sending immediate nausea into my stomach.
It’s so potent, I gag. My skin starts tingling, and I can feel the phantom grip of Aidan on me as it feels like my heart is starting to hammer again against my chest.
Aching. Everything is starting to ache.
A face I’ve never seen before cuts into my vision. A man with warm, brown skin and a kind smile.
“Miss Wilder? I’ve been instructed to take you home. My name is Ezra. I’m Mr Warren’s bodyguard,” he states calmly.
I stand up from my seat and take a step back from him. “No.”
My legs wobble as I struggle to manoeuvre around the table.
I need to get some clothes on myself.
I need to get to my apartment. To Obsidian. Grab my emergency bag and get the hell out of here.
Ezra’s hand lands on my upper arm and halts me in my tracks. “I’m sorry, Miss, but I can’t let you go on your own. It’s too dangerous.”
I focus my eyes onto the club floor, contemplating my options when I spot a figure in the shadows at the very back.
Adrenaline shoots through my system. I choke on my breaths as I stand frozen in place.
He’s coming.
The figure steps forward, slowly showing themself in one of the only lights illuminating the club. He seems to be in some sort of uniform.
I can faintly hear Ezra trying to talk to me, but I’m laser-focused on the man currently heading towards me. No, to the bar.
He leans against it, folding his arms across his chest. I dare a look at his face, and my body relaxes as I recognise him.
It’s the police officer from the other day.
What is he doing here?
He just stands, watching everything unfold around him.
“Xander,” I mumble to myself. “You have to tell Xander about the police officer,” I say louder, turning towards Ezra.
His eyebrows pull in as he searches around the venue. “What officer?”
“Over there.” I point in his direction and will my legs to move while Ezra is distracted.
I blow out a shaky breath as I successfully escape him and make my way towards the dressing room.
Fuck this.
This is not the life I deserve.
Fuck everyone. And everything.
I was destined to spend the rest of my life alone. Away from other people that I can hurt. Away from the life that every time I try to escape, seems to follow me around.
I quicken my steps when I reach the dressing room, but a familiar hold yanks me backwards into his hard chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Xander’s chest rumbles against my head with his words.
“Let me go, Xander,” I protest, pushing against his hold towards the room.
“I know you don’t want to be around me right now. I fucking know that, Camila. But I sent the only other person I trust to take you home. And you ran away from him.” His voice is breathy, almost as if he’s holding back tears.
“I don’t need anyone to take me home. I’m leaving. Out of London. Away from everyone.”
He stills. So still that you could mistake him for a statue.
“What?” is all that follows before his grip slackens.
I use that moment as my chance to rip out of his grip and bolt into the dressing room.
I swing my arm out to the side, attempting to grab my gym bag, but I miss and knock over a chair.
I don’t stop as I head straight for the fire exit door, slamming on the heavy security handle, only to be met with a brick wall.
“Fuck,” I curse, twisting to look behind me.
Xander is taking slow, steady steps towards me.
His face is blank. Emotionless. But I see the way his eyebrows are pulled into the middle.
The way his eyes darken as the door slowly closes behind me.
He’s only a few steps away now. I shove the door closed just before he can reach it and bolt to the right, down the brick hallway.
There are no lights here; I’m completely in the dark, and I’m just praying that I don’t dive headfirst into a wall.
I’ve never had to use the fire exits while I worked here; I’m blind to where I’m going.
The sound of metal hitting the wall booms through the space as my feet carry me forward. Just as I predicted, I slow down and hit a wall. Feeling around, I take another right and make sure it’s not a dead end.
Footsteps echo behind me, gaining speed, and adrenaline pumps through my body.
“Fuckkkk,” I squeal as I keep going.
His footsteps are so close now. He clearly knows his way around this fucking brick maze.
Not only that, but I’m also aware that I’m half naked, running away from the one person that was starting to make me feel something.
I don’t know why, at any point, I thought my life might actually start to make sense.
I can feel his frame looming behind me, even though he’s still a few steps away. He could have easily caught up to me now, but he hasn’t. He’s a cat playing with its food.
I reach a doorway, but it’s too late. He wraps his arms around my waist and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
“Let me go,” I grit through my teeth, hitting his back with my fists as he opens the door. Light floods into the empty hallway, and he carries me up a set of stone stairs.
He says nothing as he continues to walk. His arm is firmly wrapped around the backs of my thighs, with his hand gripping my leg. I hear another door open, and he takes us into a hallway I recognise.
With the black carpets and plain white walls.
He opens one final door and sits me on his bed.
I don’t waste any time in getting straight up and attempting to run towards the door. But he’s already there, locking it shut.
For the first time since the events of tonight, I look at him.
Really look at him. His body takes up the entire doorframe.
His arms are folded across his chest. That crispy white t-shirt from earlier is now stained with another man's blood. There are tiny dots of blood on his face. The face which now looks through me, as if he can see right into my soul and discover all my secrets. The hard planes of his face are all tensed up, and there’s no sign of the Xander I’ve been getting to know.
Just pure, cold rage.
Suddenly, I’m hyperaware of the fact that he’s fully clothed, and I’m standing in front of him in essentially my underwear.
His eyes never leave mine.
I don’t know how long we stand here in a face-off, but neither of us wants to speak.
My phone—the only thing I managed to grab from the dressing room before this Aidan caught me—pings inside my bra.
I break eye contact first. I glance down at it, but I don’t dare to take it out. I already know who it is.
Looking back at Xander, his eyes are fixed on the phone.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” he asks.
He’s calm.
Too calm.
I shake my head, refusing to speak.
He takes a step forward, while I take one back.
We carry on like this around the room, circling each other like two lions protecting their territory.
Eventually, he strikes, pouncing towards me and pulling me into him in a tight grip. Our bodies collide, his musky scent filling my senses, but the slight pang of metal from the blood keeps me in the moment. Very aware of who the man in front of me is.
Our eyes are locked on each other in question. His arms are firm and embracing.
I just saw what he’s actually capable of, so why do I still feel safe?
“Who’s Luke?” he murmurs, voice gentle.
Xander’s hand slowly retreats from my waist, his fingertips tracing up my arm, causing goosebumps to erupt that only he can raise. They circle my shoulder before dipping to my bra and slowly pulling my phone out, making my breath hitch.
I swallow as he holds it up. And to my surprise, he flings it to the side without looking. It lands with a small thud somewhere in the room.