22. Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-two
K ane
The phone vibrates softly on the bedside table, dragging me from the shallow sleep I’ve barely allowed myself. I reach over, careful not to disturb Camille’s sleeping form, her breathing soft and steady against my chest. My thumb swipes the screen, illuminating a single, short message from Javi.
Found something. War room. Now.
I glance at Camille. She shifts slightly, murmuring something unintelligible.
Her hand settles instinctively over her stomach, palm flat, protective…
an unconscious gesture I’ve noticed lately, subtle enough that it doesn’t seem intentional.
But it tightens something in my chest every single time I see it.
I press a quiet kiss to her temple before slipping from bed, silently grabbing a discarded pair of pants and pulling them on as I leave the room.
The war room’s already humming with tense energy by the time I arrive. Javi stands by the long table, his face grim, Joaquin leaning against the wall with a dark, unreadable expression. The moment they see me, the air thickens.
“Tell me,” I say, voice low, controlled.
Javi slides a photo across the table without preamble.
It’s a blurred image, grainy, clearly pulled from surveillance footage. But I recognize the man immediately, deep-set eyes, narrow face, trimmed dark beard. He’s walking confidently toward a dark SUV, flanked by two men, each of them armed.
Rojas.
“He’s here?” My jaw tightens, pulse slamming hard through my veins.
“Landed last night. Private airfield near Hialeah.” Javi’s voice is quiet, precise. “He’s set up shop on our doorstep.”
“Does he know we’re aware?”
“Not yet,” Joaquin interjects, voice gruff. “But he’s smart. He’s careful. If he’s showing his face, he’s ready to escalate.”
My knuckles whiten as I grip the edge of the table, rage simmering quietly beneath the surface. “We don’t wait for him to make a move. If he’s here, we strike first.”
Javi nods slowly, eyes meeting mine. “You sure about this? The man’s connected internationally…Russian ties, Serbian roots. We hit him wrong, the fallout’s fucking ugly.”
“I know exactly what he is.” My voice drops into lethal quiet. “And he chose this war.”
There’s a silence. Joaquin watches me carefully. “You realize he’s baiting you, right?”
My jaw flexes. “Of course he is. He wants me distracted. Angry.”
“Focused on Camille,” Javi murmurs.
My stomach turns at her name. It’s not anger, it’s something deeper, colder. Fear, buried so deep it turns my voice to ice. “Then he’s got exactly what he wants.”
Joaquin shifts slightly, uneasy. “You sure you’re seeing this clearly, hermano?”
I lift my head slowly, eyes locking on his with deadly calm. “Never clearer.”
They both go quiet, nodding slightly.
“Get eyes on him. Everywhere,” I say finally. “Track every fucking move he makes. If he so much as breathes near her, he’s dead before sunrise.”
Javi nods. “Consider it done.”
I turn without another word, my pulse hammering violently beneath my skin. The hallway back to Camille feels impossibly long, shadows stretching too deep, too silent. My chest tightens as I slip back into our bedroom, pausing at the doorway to look at her.
She’s still asleep, curled slightly, one hand still resting protectively over her stomach.
My heart stutters. Just once.
A feeling I can’t name twists fiercely behind my ribs.
I crawl back into bed slowly, careful not to wake her, but Camille stirs, turning into my arms, her eyes fluttering open sleepily.
“Kane?” Her voice is rough with sleep, soft and achingly vulnerable.
“Just a call,” I murmur quietly, brushing hair from her face. “Go back to sleep.”
Her eyes linger on mine, worry flickering briefly before she nods, sinking into my embrace again, body molding against mine perfectly, her breath slow, steady.
My palm settles over her belly, warm and firm. Protective.
Something in me shifts, crystallizes, and the weight of what I could lose, what I’m silently starting to hope for, settles heavily between us.
Rojas chose war.
But he won’t be ready for how far I’ll go now.
Camille
I wake to sunlight melting like honey across my bare shoulder, warm and sweet and lazy. Kane’s arm is heavy across my waist, his presence branded into my skin. It feels like possession. Like security. Like something deeper, something dangerously close to forever.
It’s still early, the kind of early where the world holds its breath and the sunlight filters through sheer curtains, pale and hesitant.
Behind me, Kane sleeps deeply, his chest rising in a steady, reassuring rhythm against my spine.
His breath is warm at the nape of my neck, lips brushing softly against my skin with every exhale.
His palm rests possessively beneath my ribcage, fingers splayed wide as if even in dreams he refuses to let go.
I should feel safe.
And I do. But beneath that safety, there’s something else. Something nagging quietly, an unspoken whisper slipping through the edges of my consciousness. It’s subtle, but persistent like the lingering ache after a bruise fades, or the hush before a storm rolls in.
It’s not the first morning I’ve felt it. A strange heaviness drapes itself over my bones, dragging me down when I try to rise, urging me back to the pillow. My stomach churns uneasily, not violently, but enough to make me pause, swallow hard, and wonder.
I close my eyes, breathe slow and measured, waiting for the wave to pass.
It does, but not before that persistent question resurfaces, the one I’ve been desperately ignoring.
Could I be...?
I clamp down hard on that thought, silencing it ruthlessly. I’m just tired. Overwhelmed. Strung out from the constant vigilance, the carnival’s hidden threats, the looming presence of danger that clings to Kane’s shadow.
Yet…
Behind me, Kane shifts slightly, pulling me from my thoughts. His voice comes, low and rich, edged with the velvet rasp of sleep.
“You’re awake.”
A simple statement, but the quiet concern woven beneath it makes my pulse quicken. He dips his face against my neck, breathing deeply, his lips a whisper on my skin.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I admit softly.
“You’ve been restless.”
“I’m fine,” I murmur, even though we both know I’m lying.
Kane’s lips brush the curve of my shoulder, soft and lingering, like he’s trying to coax the truth out of me gently. “You don’t have to lie to me, mi cielo.”
My chest tightens, and I stay quiet because I don’t trust myself to speak. Not yet.
“I heard you get up last night,” he says, voice rough with an edge of worry. “You okay?”
I nod weakly against the pillow. “Yeah. Just… off.”
He shifts behind me, concern sharpening his tone. “Headache?”
“No.” I hesitate, struggling to put it into words. “It’s more of a…body ache. A heaviness.”
Kane’s arm tightens protectively around me, his hand sliding from my ribs down to settle lightly against my stomach. It’s gentle, comforting, innocent yet my breath catches anyway.
He notices immediately.
Of course, he does. Kane notices everything.
His hand stills, palm warm and steady. “Camille.” The word is barely audible, cautious but edged with something harder. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I will be,” I whisper back.
There’s a weighted silence, thick enough to drown in.
Then quietly, carefully: “I want you to see a doctor.”
My pulse spikes. I twist in his arms, turning slowly until I can look up into his dark, searching gaze. “Why?”
He meets my eyes directly, his expression unreadable but intense. “Because I know your body, Camille. And it’s different.”
My throat tightens painfully, and I force a small smile. “You make it sound like I’m malfunctioning.”
His thumb brushes across my cheek gently, reverently. “No,” he murmurs, “but something’s changed. You’ve been off ever since that night we got back. And I won’t wait until it’s something I can’t fix.”
His voice cracks slightly on that last word, betraying the fear he’s desperately trying to hide. Fear not of enemies or threats, but of losing control of something precious, losing control of me.
I lift my hand to his, threading our fingers together. “Let’s give it a day or two,” I soothe gently. “I’ll see how I feel.”
His jaw clenches, a silent war raging behind his eyes. Finally, he nods reluctantly. “Okay. A day.”
A beat passes, the tension hanging thickly between us.
Then, as if desperate to lighten the heaviness, he pulls me closer, tucking me tightly beneath him. His body shields mine completely, protective and possessive, like armor forged specifically to shelter me.
“You want to go somewhere today?” he murmurs softly, brushing his lips against my temple. “Somewhere quiet. Just us.”
Surprised, I blink up at him. “You’re not working?”
His expression shifts slightly, something fierce and unyielding surfacing. “Not today.”
The finality in his voice makes it clear, he’s already rearranged every meeting, every demand, every threat just to create space for us. For me.
My heart swells, and I press my palm gently against his chest. “Okay,” I whisper softly, giving in to the warmth of him. “Let’s disappear.”
His gaze softens, and he nods once, firmly.
Because right now, disappearing with Kane Rivera doesn’t feel reckless. It feels necessary. It feels like survival.
And maybe, just maybe, we both need to hide together for a little while.
Kane
She hasn’t said a fucking word.
But I don’t need her to.
I feel it, something delicate, something potent shifting beneath her skin, deeper than she realizes.
It’s a quiet metamorphosis, her body changing right in front of me, becoming softer, slower, instinctively protective.
Her scent has changed too subtle but unmistakable like she’s blooming from the inside out, creating something fierce, fragile, mine.
And the way she curls into herself while she sleeps? The way her hand finds her stomach, protective, unconscious?
It guts me.
Because I fucking know.