34. Cam
This is ridiculous.
She knows how dangerous it is to deviate from the plan, and yet here she is, doing exactly that. Like the rules don’t apply to her. Like I haven’t already thought ten steps ahead.
She really thinks I didn’t put my own tracker on her phone?
I gave her the chance to come home on her own. I’ve been patient—painfully patient—but this? This is taking the absolute piss.
This woman is going to give me a brain aneurysm. Or at the very least, chronic high blood pressure.
I follow the signal to a bar I’ve never had a reason to step foot in before. And the second I walk through the door, I see her.
Back of the corridor. Low lighting. And him—his hands—on her.
Touching places that make my blood boil.
My jaw tightens. My fists clench. And just like that, every ounce of restraint I’ve been clinging to snaps like a frayed wire.
I don’t fucking think so.
“Nell!”
I don’t see anyone else—just them. Her. Him. That fucking hand.
I shove through the crowd, blind to the noise, the bodies, the stares. My focus is razor-sharp, and I don’t give him a second to explain. I don’t need one.
Training takes over.
I grab the hand buried where it doesn’t belong and twist—clean, controlled, unforgiving. He yelps, but I’m already moving, locking his arm behind his back and driving him down with a sharp press to the elbow.
He hits the floor harder than necessary. I don’t care.
He should’ve kept his hands to himself.
“Oi! What the fuck, mate?”
he barks, already scrambling to his feet.
But I’m not looking at him, I’m locked on Nell. And she’s staring at me like I’m the one who crossed the line.
Is she serious?
“Stay the fuck down,”
I growl, but of course he doesn’t listen. They never do.
He’s mouthing off, throwing curses like they’ll land harder than my fists. But I’m done with warnings. He leans against the wall for balance, and that’s all the opening I need.
I grab him by the collar, drive my knee into his face—once, twice—and he crumples like paper.
Lights out.
Night night.
But Nell doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Just glares at me like she wants to set me on fire.
“Really?”
she spits.
“You don’t want me, but no one else can have me either? That’s your angle?”
She’s furious, hurt—and I get it. But she’s wrong.
Dead wrong.
“I’m not letting any man put his hands on you,”
I snap.
“You didn’t listen to me before, Nell—but dammit, you’re going to listen to me now.”
I close the distance, stepping over the unconscious body like it’s nothing. The few people around us have fallen quiet, a few heads turning, but I don’t care.
I grab her face and crush my mouth to hers—rough, desperate, unforgiving.
I know I said I wouldn’t do this again. But she doesn’t understand what she means to me. And if this is the only way to make her feel it, then so be it.
“Fuck you!”
she spits, biting down hard on my lip before slapping me clean across the face and storming out of the bar.
She’s driving me insane!
I can feel myself unravelling, slipping past the point of reason, but I can’t stop. She’s got me tied in knots I’ll never untangle. Infuriatingly sexy. Stubborn to the point of madness. And addictive in a way that should come with a warning label.
It doesn’t take long to catch up to her.
She’s already outside, wielding that damn rolling pin like she’s ready to go to war—swinging it wildly, like she might actually land a hit.
But she won’t.
I catch it mid-swing, twist it from her grip, and in one motion, press her back against the alley wall. The shadows swallow us whole, but her eyes burn through the dark—wild, defiant and alive.
Anger? Maybe.
But it’s more than that.
It’s raw. Electric. Something neither of us has the words for.
And God help me, I don’t want to defuse it.
I want to burn in it.
I’m done being patient.
My grip is rough as I yank her leggings down just enough to expose the soft, pale skin I’ve been craving. Control slips through my fingers like sand, and I don’t bother chasing it.
“Oh, I’ll fuck you alright,”
I growl, voice low and ragged.
I press the rolling pin between her thighs—not hard, just enough to make her breath hitch. A warning. A promise. A reminder of exactly who she’s dealing with.
This fucking rolling pin.
I glide it, nodules and all, between her legs, applying pressure each time it reaches her clit. But at the same time, I hold her in place by her hair, pinning her against the wall like artwork.
Her lips part, the fire still raging a war inside her, but her thighs aren’t clenching as hard anymore.
“This is what you want? For me to lose control?”
“I want you to get off me!”
She snarls like the little vixen she is.
But I don’t release my hold, I don’t give in to her demand. I angle the rolling pin up, pressing it against her already soaked entrance, a warning if there ever was one.
She claws at me, wild and furious, like she actually thinks she can break free.
But it’s a losing battle, and we both know it.
I’ve held back around her for so long. Bit down on the edge of who I really am. Kept the darker parts buried, hidden beneath restraint and reason.
But that ends tonight.
She wanted to push and provoke me. To see what she could awaken in me. Well, now she’s about to find out exactly what she’s unleashed.
A moan slips from her lips, and that’s all the permission I need. I lift the rolling pin between us, holding it just inches from her mouth.
“Spit on it.”
Her eyes snap to mine, wide with disbelief. “What?”
“You heard me.”
There’s a flicker in her gaze—defiance and calculation, maybe even curiosity. She’s weighing her options, but we both know how limited they are. How far she’s already let this go.
And then, slowly, she leans in. Her lips part, and she lets a slick trail fall onto the end of the pin—never breaking eye contact.
“Good girl.”
Her body trembles, legs unsteady beneath her as anticipation coils tight in every muscle.
When I lower the pin again, she sucks in a breath, biting down on her bottom lip like she’s trying to hold something back.
But it’s already there.
The pleasure. The surrender. The war she’s losing with herself.
And she knows it.
She’s bracing for the inevitable, even as her body leans into it.
With her spit I coat her pussy, making sure she’s slick before pushing the rolling pin inside her. She’s a greedy girl—eager—meeting me with a hunger that borders on reverence.
Her arms aren’t clawing at me anymore. Now, they’re wrapped around me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.
“Still hate me now?”
I murmur, tasting the blood she left on my lip as I drag my tongue across it deliberately.
“Yes,”
she breathes.
But there’s no venom in it. No fire. Just the ghost of defiance clinging to words that no longer carry weight.
“You sure about that?”
I find a rhythm with the rolling pin, gliding it in and out of her like it was made for this.
What once was her shield, her makeshift weapon, now bends to my control. I’ve turned her protection into surrender. Her defence into desire.
“Fuck you, stalker boy,”
she moans, eyes fluttering shut—still clinging to defiance, even as pleasure threatens to pull her under.
But her body betrays her.
It’s mine now. Her breath, her voice, the way she trembles beneath my touch.
All of it belongs to me.
Nell is mine.
Even when she fights it.
Especially when she fights it.
But something shifts—sharp and immediate.
She’s no longer yielding, no longer complicit. With a guttural growl, she slams both hands into my chest, shoving me back with a force that steals the air from my lungs.
“Get off me. I can’t do this. You can’t do this. I fucking hate you, Cameron.”
Her voice cracks, and then the tears come hot, silent and unstoppable. But it’s her eyes that stop me cold. There’s something in them now… something darker. Something broken.
“Hey!”
a voice calls from the far end of the alley.
I glance toward it—just for a second.
And that’s all she needs.
She yanks the rolling pin from between her legs, shoves it into my chest, and hastily pulls her clothes back into place. Then she’s gone—disappearing into the night, leaving me breathless, stunned, and standing alone in the alleyway with my thoughts spinning like a carousel I can’t get off.
And for the first time, I’m not sure if I’ve just lost her… or if I ever really had her at all.
“What do you think you’re doing to her?”
the guy barks, puffing out his chest like he’s about to win some kind of prize for bravery. He steps in, making just enough space for Nell to slip past him, and then he’s right in my face, playing hero for the crowd.
But I don’t have time for this.
My phone’s blowing up in my pocket. Nell’s already out of sight. And this idiot thinks he’s going to slow me down?
Not tonight.
“Move,” I snap.
He doesn’t.
So, I don’t wait.
I drop my shoulder, twist just enough to build momentum, and slam my palm into his jaw—an uppercut that cuts off whatever threat he was about to make.
He stumbles back, dazed, blinking like he’s trying to remember where he is. But I don’t give him the chance. I drive my elbow into his temple, then follow with a sharp knee to the mouth before he can hit the ground.
He crumples.
And I’m already moving, because Nell’s out there, and I’m not losing her again.
“Nell!”
She’s already halfway down the street, running like distance will save her. Reckless. So fucking reckless. Breaking every rule we set like they were just suggestions. She has no idea what we’re up against, and it’s completely infuriating.
My phone buzzes again and I answer without looking.
Talia’s voice is tight with pressure.
“Cam… I got it wrong. They’re coming for her. Tonight. Secure the perimeter, we’re en route.”
No.
No, no, no.
We’re not home.
A screech of tires cuts through the night. My head snaps up just in time to see a black van skidding around the corner, taillights flaring red.
And Nell is gone.
I run. Full sprint. My lungs burn, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I reach the house, heart pounding like a war drum. No time to gear up. No time to think.
I lunge for the bike in the driveway, fire it to life, and tear off into the dark—gravel spraying behind me like shrapnel.
I don’t know what I’ll do when I catch them.
But I will catch them.
Because I’m not losing her.
Not now. Not after everything.
Every move I’ve made—every line I crossed—was to protect her. And now the thought that my protection might’ve led her straight into their hands?
It makes me sick.
It feels like Kyla all over again.
And I swore I’d never fail like that again.
The wind tears at my face as I push the bike harder, faster—engine screaming beneath me like it knows what’s at stake. The van’s taillights are a faint blur in the distance, but I lock onto them like a predator. I’m gaining. Not fast enough.
My mind is a storm—Talia’s voice echoing, Nell’s scream that never came, the sound of tires skidding like a countdown I didn’t hear in time.
I weave through traffic like it’s not even there, barely missing a side mirror, a horn blaring behind me. I don’t care. I can’t care. Every second counts.
The van takes a hard left down a side road. It’s narrow and industrial, half-lit by flickering street lamps. I follow, tires screeching as I lean into the turn, gravel spitting out from under me.
They know I’m behind them now.
Good.
Let them know I’m coming.
The van swerves, trying to lose me, but I’m locked in. I reach for the Glock strapped beneath my jacket—no time to aim, just a warning shot. I fire once, the bullet sparking off the rear bumper, and the van jerks violently to the side.
They’re panicking.
Good.
I close the gap, heart pounding, every instinct screaming to act, but I need to be smart. If they hurt her, if they even touch her—
A second van screeches up alongside me, its engine snarling like a beast. Through the window, a man in a balaclava locks eyes with me—cold, calculated, like I’m nothing more than a speed bump in his way.
I raise my gun, aiming for the tire—
Too late.
They swerve hard.
Metal slams into my leg, and the world explodes into chaos. The bike jerks violently beneath me, spinning out in a blur of screeching rubber and shattered control.
I hit the ground hard—bone, asphalt, pain. All I can do is curl in, arms over my head as the impact rattles through me like a bomb going off inside my chest.
Everything goes white.
I don’t know which way is up. Don’t know if I’m bleeding or broken or both. The only thing I know for sure is the sound of tires peeling away and the second van vanishing into the night.
And Nell—
Gone with it.
I lie there, a wreck of limbs and fury, the taste of blood in my mouth and failure burning in my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
Can’t see.
Can’t move.
All I can do is lie here in a broken tangle of limbs and wait for the darkness to take me. To pull me under and silence everything. The pain, the failure, the sound of her name echoing in my skull.
Let it all drown, and me with it.
Captured