Chapter 48
Shay-Lee
T he first sight I saw when I opened the door was someone’s back. Not just someone but Dion . Wearing a pair of tailored pants and a tight dress shirt, for a brief second, he reminded me of my father, who always looked neat, no matter the situation. Fear clenched in my throat with the comparison, and I held still in the doorway. But once Dion turned to face me and I caught a glimpse of Camilo tied to a chair behind him, reality flew back in.
A wave of nausea swept over me, thick with horror at the sight of Camilo’s face, which was hardly recognizable. Swollen and bloodied, his handsome face was beaten and carved with a knife. Not just his face but the rest of him, too. Tied shirtless, his tortured body was covered with sweat, his skin pale, full of purple bruises and dried blood.
Excruciating pain twisted my insides as a string of tears blurred my vision. But despite the fear nipping at the back of my mind, I ignored the urge to fall apart and instead dashed toward Camilo. He was almost in my arms when Dion moved to step in the way.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He grinned, his body blocking the passage to Camilo.
“Move!” I growled, glancing behind his stupid body. “Camilo, baby, it’s me,” I shouted, desperate for him to look at me—only he didn’t. His head was flopped down, his eyes closed, and his lips parted. The horrible thought that I might have arrived too late surrounded me like a moonless night as I blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears.
I can’t break down. Not now.
With all my power, I shoved Dion out of my way before I knelt by Camilo’s legs, my body shivering as I reached out a hand to clean his face of blood.
Horrified to find how cold his skin was at first touch, my breath shuddered.
“What have they done to you?” I cried, moving my hand along his bruised jaw. “Open your eyes, baby, please .”
Camilo’s body shifted just a bit before he leaned into my touch. I gasped with relief, holding on to this drop of light in a sea of darkness. He’s alive . He was hurt, badly, but he was alive, and that was what I’d focus on. Quickly, I got up to my feet and rounded the metal chair to untie him. But as I moved down to unfold the knots around his wrist, I noticed his left hand was clearly broken, judging by how misshapen it was. My throat dried up, and I bit down on my tongue, fighting the urge to snap before getting to my knees so I’d be able to set him free.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Dion tsked.
Ignoring him, I set my full attention on the tight knot and the ropes that cut into Camilo’s skin. The thought of him being here, treated like a punching bag, churned my stomach. I wanted to get him out of those ropes fast, but the second I tried untying them, I touched his injured hand, and he screamed. He screamed so hard the grave voice scared me, and I immediately froze.
Nervous, my chest rose and fell with my heaving breaths while I tried processing what to do. Maybe if I’d cut those ropes —
“You’re wasting your time,” Dion said as I looked around the room.
“What?” I hissed back.
He smiled down at me, his eyes full of malice. “ Mon péché , if you think I’ll just let you release him and get out of here, then you are as stupid as you are beautiful.”
I was so caught up in the moment that I had completely forgotten about telling Dion Camilo wasn’t the traitor he thought him to be. And while every fiber of my being ached to release Camilo and help him out of here, I realized I’d have to calm down and face Dion first .
Clearing my throat, I stood up and faced him with a raised chin. “He isn’t the traitor,” I announced firmly. Fumbling in my pocket, I took out the flash drive and tossed it at Dion. After catching it, the Frenchman glared at the small memory stick, then at me.
“What’s that?” he snarled, the lines around his eyes tightening.
“That’s the information that your hooker stole from you.”
Danger crossed his eyes as he held my stare, impatience written on his face.
“ Quoi? ”
“Camilo wasn’t the traitor. It was Oro. That bastard set it all up to frame Camilo for his betrayal.”
Dion’s jaw twitched, yet before he could respond, Jordan appeared in the doorway, all panting and bloodied, with Oro on his back.
“Shay-Lee—oh fuck,” he gasped with his eyes latched on Camilo. “S-shit, is he dead?”
“No, he’s not,” I quickly said while Dion glanced between us all.
“What’s going on? Where’s Gale?” Dion hissed, his expression turning more dangerous by the second.
Pointing his thumb over his shoulder, Jordan took a moment to catch his breath. “So that’s this guy’s name?”
“It doesn’t matter!” I snapped, getting Dion’s attention back. “ What matters is that this is wholly his fault.” I pointed my finger at Oro, who shook his head, fear written on his face.
“It’s true. He tried killing us, too,” Jordan joined in as he allowed himself into the room. With Dion still out of words, which was a nice change, Jordan dropped Oro down to the floor and quickly moved to stand by my side.
Dion’s eyes moved from us to Oro, and he focused on Oro’s legs, which were soaked with blood. I felt a shred of confidence that things might work out when another man showed up at the doorway—the guy from downstairs.
Gale.
Jordan moved before me, his fists already clenched and his eyes focused on Gale’s face, when Dion snorted, his laugh cutting through the thick atmosphere.
“Now you show up? After I could have already been shot dozens of times, at least.”
Gale bent his head down. “I’m sorry, boss.”
“ Oh, pitié. ” He rolled his eyes. “Save me from another one of your apologies, Gale. First, you nearly killed him—” He waved his hand at Camilo. “—then you lose a fight with a toddler.”
Toddler? Did he mean… Jordan?
“Anyway, I’m more curious as to what this sweet boy has to tell me than you,” Dion snarled, then crouched down in front of Oro and pulled the sock out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry!” Oro immediately burst out in tears. “I only tried to help you, Dion, but this bitch was doing everything he could to ruin it—”
“ Non, non, non, mon chéri ,” Dion was quick to silence Oro, putting his fingers on Oro’s trembling lips. “Stop crying and tell me what happened, okay?”
Oro sniffed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, before he began telling lies upon lies. According to his story, he did all of this crap just to prove to Dion he was capable of being more than just a Gatto in the Venetian and that he chose to blame Camilo because Camilo was to leave the group, hence he must have been untrustworthy.
And while I knew it was all bullshit, I’d give it to Oro—with all the tears and begging, his story was quite believable, and it looked like I wasn’t the only one to think that. Fear settled in my bones upon seeing the smile growing on Dion’s face.
“Your legs must hurt, don’t they?” Dion asked while pushing Oro’s hair away from his sweaty face.
The bitch nodded. “Y-yes.” He pointed at me. “It’s all his fault. He shot me—”
“Because you kidnapped me, you piece of lying shit!” I shouted, my heart racing fast, hammering against my chest.
“ Oof , looks like a black cat went between you two, doesn’t it?” Dion chuckled like the crazy fucker that he was. “But back to you, mon chéri . After all, we’ll have time to handle him—” He glanced at me for a quick second. “—later.”
Shit.
Oro’s lips trembled into a satisfied smile. “O-okay. B-but I need to see a doctor. My legs… they hurt so much.”
“Why, of course they do, silly boy. You got shot.” Dion stroked Oro’s cheek. “But before we can reach that part, I need you to tell me one simple thing.”
“Y-yes?”
“You’re the one who stole that information from me, yes?”
Oro’s lips quivered just as Camilo let out a weak cry, and I quickly moved to his side. With my eyes now focusing on my man, I heard Oro stuttering.
“D-Dion—”
“Don’t worry, mon chéri , I promise not to get angry. I only ask to make sure no one else has their hands on it.”
“F-fine.” Oro’s breath shuddered. “Y-yes, I stole it. But it was for a good reason. I would have never used it against yo—”
His voice was drowned out by the deafening sound of a gunshot, and I turned in shock just in time to see his body dropping to the floor. Only Dion didn’t stop once Oro’s lifeless ass slumped down, and he fired dozens more shots before his gun was out of ammunition, and he tsked.
“ Sale petite pute …” His lips twitched in disgust as he eyed what used to be Oro’s head.
Now, it was just blown to pieces. Literary blown to pieces .
S-shit, I’m going to be sick.
All the blood and spilled body fluids made my insides coil and revolt, I turned my head back to face Camilo. He’s the reason I am here , I reminded myself in order to forget how Dion had just sprayed Oro with bullets until his body turned into Swiss cheese. From beside me, I caught Jordan averting his gaze, his eyes closed. I understood why he had to look away. It wasn’t that I felt bad for Oro; in fact, I was glad the little fuck finally dropped dead, but the way Dion did it… fucking brutal.
“Clean this mess up,” Dion said, his words jolting me back.
I turned around to see him handing his gun to Gale.
“Then, burn this place and get me a new toy.” He jerked his head in Oro’s direction. “This one is, well, dead.”
He sounds so… casual?
“Boss,” Gale said, making Dion stop in his tracks.
“What?” he snarled.
“What about them?” Gale cocked his head at us.
I tensed on the spot, cold sweat breaking out across my skin while I studied Dion’s inscrutable face that revealed nothing.
“I suggest they move fast if they don’t want to burn with the rest of this place,” he said.
I forced my fear back into the pit of my stomach before speaking, “So it’s done? We’re free to leave?”
Dion’s eyes latched on to mine, the intensity in them running a shiver down my spine. But then, he smiled, a smile full of secrets and bad intentions. “You can see it as a token of my appreciation for helping me.” He then moved to look at Camilo. “I would hurry up if I were you. ”
I sealed my lips shut and nodded.
“Burn this place down, Gale,” Dion ordered and, without further ado, left the room and hopefully our life.
I would have felt a sliver of relief at him leaving, only Dion wasn’t joking when he told Gale to hurry up, as his buffoon already picked up a jerry can and began pouring liquid—fuel, telling by the scent—all over the floor. Understanding we truly had no time, I glanced at Jordan.
“Find me a knife!” I screamed and moved to round Camilo’s chair. Thankfully, Jordan tossed me one quickly enough, and I cut the ropes. Camilo’s wrists were raw and bruised from being tied for so long, and carefully, I released him. Once his body was free from the chair, I moved to face him. Hooking my hands underneath his arms, I pulled him up. He grunted with pain, and I struggled to keep him standing. He was too heavy, and my ankles hurt with the struggle, not to mention the stab wound in my thigh, which I’d ignored thus far. Yet, I couldn’t give up, and I tried lifting him again. My legs trembled, and my knees were about to collapse under his weight, when Jordan moved me aside and took my place. Stunned, I watched as he hoisted Camilo over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Let’s move,” he said, already stepping to get out of the room.
I was about to do the same when something sparkled at the corner of my eye, and I looked down at one of the chair’s legs to find—
“That’s mine,” I whispered, voice choked as I lifted up my necklace from the floor. The gold was stained with blood, but there was no mistaking it—this was my necklace, the one Oro had ripped from my neck.
“Shay-Lee, hurry up!” Jordan shouted from where he stood by the door, Camilo passed out on his shoulders.
Collecting myself back together, I shoved the necklace into my pocket and ran toward them. We were smart to hurry, as fire had already spread around the building by the time we reached the ground floor, causing the temperature to rise. The fumes of burning fuel stung my eyes while smoke clogged my throat. Thankfully, the passage to the exit wasn’t blocked by flames, and we were able to run out of the burning place before it killed us, too.
The cars that were parked outside earlier were almost all gone, including the men Jordan beat up when we first got here. Not lingering to wonder where they all went, I pulled the van’s keys out and ran ahead to open the sliding door, so when Jordan reached it, we were able to carefully place Camilo on his back.
Camilo’s face twitched as we laid him down, yet his eyes remained closed.
“We better hurry up.” Jordan said what I already knew.
I took a sharp breath before getting in the van and jumping into the driver’s seat.
“Make sure to keep him safe,” I ordered, then turned on the engine and hit the gas.
The next twenty-five minutes were probably the longest eternity I’d ever lived. Every second was tormenting, every minute never-ending as time stood still. The roads seemed to stretch forever, mile after mile of the same thing. Beads of sweat covered my forehead, causing my hair to stick to my face. Yet, despite the annoyance, I focused on the road ahead, all while ignoring Jordan, who was telling me Camilo was getting worse.
I knew he was getting worse.
I knew he was dying.
I also knew the only thing I could do at that moment was to get him to the fucking hospital as fast as I could, so that’s what I did. Driving like a madman, I didn’t stop at red lights or lift my leg off the gas and instead maneuvered between cars like the road was a racing track. The only thing racing faster than this shitty van was my heart, which was seconds away from exploding. Spotting the hospital from afar, I pushed the gas pedal all the way down until the van squeaked and rattled. Hopefully, this piece of junk wouldn’t fail on me.
“Watch out!” Jordan yelled as I drove full speed toward one of the hospital’s parking barriers that stood in my way.
I drove straight into it, the mechanical arm breaking with the crash but not slowing down the van. The only thing it did was grab security’s attention, who now called for us to stop. No fucking way . Instead of pulling by the side of the road as I was called to do, I drove the van into the ambulance bay, my heart going on a hundred, until I pulled up in front of the emergency entrance. Leaving the engine running, I unbuckled myself and dashed out of the van. Security was running toward me, but instead of stopping with my arms up in the air, I circled the car and slid open the door.
“I need help! He’s dying!” I screamed at the medical staff who stood near the entrance to the building.
Thankfully, they came running toward us with a stretcher ready. The medics reached the van at the same time the security had, and so lost in the chaos, I didn’t realize I was being detained.
“Wait, no, you got it all wrong,” I shouted at the security man who held my arms behind my back. “I’m with him.” I tried pulling toward the stretcher they carried Camilo on when the security guy pulled me back and away.
I kicked my legs and screamed out my lungs, resisting their arrest until one of the medics spoke.
“Male, mid-twenties, unresponsive on arrival. Lacerations to the face and multiple contusions across the chest and abdomen. BP’s dropping—80 over 50. Heart rate is 140. Rigid abdomen, likely internal bleeding. Pulse ox is 85%. Let’s move—Trauma One!”
A suffocating sense of dread gripped my chest, stealing my breath, when Jordan moved toward me.
“No.” I spoke fast, not even stopping to think. “Stay with him.”
Our eyes locked before he nodded, turned around, and followed the medics who carried Camilo into the hospital. It all happened so damn fast that before I knew it, they were both gone, and all I was left to do was to pray.
Not that praying ever helped in my case, but maybe, just this time, it would.