56. Nell
I’ve decided—it’s going to be my mission to help Kyla.
Cam’s right. She deserves a second chance. A life that isn’t defined by what was done to her. She deserves happiness. I just hope she doesn’t lose herself chasing after Cam.
Would you even call him her ex now? I’m not sure. They’re tangled in something that feels unfinished.
I drift through the halls, searching for Boomerang. He’s probably busy demolishing another corner of Cam’s furniture. The suede couch has become his personal throne.
Cam and Talia are locked away in his office, voices low and serious, discussing things that fly right over my head. Honestly, I don’t need the details. As long as Cam takes me with him, I don’t care what’s between the lines.
I’ve seen enough. I don’t want the clips, the footage, the screaming stills of what those girls go through. My dreams already burn with it. I don’t need it bleeding into my waking hours too.
Cam helps with that. He’s the reason I’m not afraid of touch anymore—not like I used to be. No one else could ever touch me the way he does. I don’t understand it, but with him… it’s different. Safe.
He chose me.
“There you are,”
I smile, spotting Boomerang curled up on one of Cam’s hoodies. White fur clings to the fabric in soft clouds—I’ll clean it off later.
Cam will have an absolute meltdown if he sees it like this, but right now, it’s quiet. And peace is rare.
I’m scrolling aimlessly through my phone, digging through old memories of Darcy. Her laugh in the background of a video. Her smudged mascara in a blurry selfie. Little fragments. Small comforts. Even though she’s not here, they still reach me.
But peace never lasts long in this house.
The sound of Kyla’s uneven footsteps echoes before she enters—sluggish, unpredictable. She slumps into the sofa opposite me, eyes glassy and unfocused. I keep my gaze on the screen, heart ticking like a metronome, waiting, because right now I don’t want to say something that might upset her.
Then she speaks, and every word slices through the quiet.
“So, you’re the little bitch who couldn’t keep her hands off my husband.”
This isn’t grief. This is vengeance.
I understand it, in a way. She came home to find him smiling with someone else, living a life that didn’t wait for her. The dream she’d clung to through chains and suffering—it’s shattered now.
“I’m not the enemy, Kyla,”
I say evenly.
“We’re on the same team.”
Look at me—playing the adult. But tension thickens the air like smoke, bitter and unrelenting. The kind that sticks to skin.
Kyla leans forward, her mouth twisting around every syllable.
“You,”
she hisses, lips curled in fury—lips that were probably beautiful, once.
“You don’t get to take him. He’s mine. My husband. I didn’t survive hell for some little girl to tear us apart.”
I get it now. Why Cam moved on. If Kyla was like this before… God only knows how he endured her for so long.
“Sure, Kyla. Whatever you say,”
I snap back, letting the sarcasm coat my words. Cam wouldn’t want me bickering with her—but I’m not a saint.
I tried. I really did. Tried to be kind. To make space for healing. But if she’s not interested in peace, then fine. No love lost.
Before I say something I’ll regret, I remove myself. Slip out the door and into the open, desperate to carve some distance between us.
Maybe, in time, she’ll see I’m not the villain. I’m not the one who broke anything. But for now, space feels like the safest idea.
Still, leaving Cam alone with her? That’s a mistake waiting to happen.
The cool air hits me like relief, and something in my chest loosens. I don’t remember the last time I stepped outside just to be—no agenda, no anxiety clawing at my back. That’s the magic of Cam’s place. It’s tucked into the trees, far from the noise, hidden out of view.
It reminds me of the woods where Mom and Dad used to take me camping. Cousins playing tag in pine needles. Marshmallows over firelight. And my uncle…
He never touched me there.
Too many people.
Too many eyes.
So those memories stay clean. Untouched by his shadow.
They’re mine.
I wander until I’m nearly lost. The house is swallowed by trees now, the birds singing overhead without a care in the world. I let myself sink into the wilderness—no responsibilities, no expectations. Just quiet.
The leaves tumble around me like confetti, and the ferns brush softly against my legs. Twigs snap beneath my boots. Each step feels lighter, freeing me one foot at a time.
But my mind, ever the saboteur, veers sideways—dragging me somewhere darker, filthier. I picture Cam chasing me through these woods, masked, dressed the way I like. No mercy in his stride. Just purpose.
God, that would be fun.
I’ve kept most of my fantasies to myself—too scared he’ll call me strange like the others did. But maybe one day I’ll spill. Maybe he’ll like it. Maybe he already does.
We’d fuck like rabbits on the forest floor. Forgetting names, identities, rules. Just instinct and want.
A snap of a branch behind me drags me back to reality.
My heart drops. Stomach plummets. The dream dissolves instantly into something primal.
I spin on my heel, breath sharp, eyes scanning the undergrowth. I don’t know who or what waits in the shadows. But I’m ready.
No weapon. No defence. Just my fists—and Cam’s advice echoing through my head—pluck and slap.
Not exactly reassuring.
A deer bolts somewhere deeper in the woods and I breathe out, slow and shaky, swiping the sweat slicking my forehead.
It wasn’t a close call. I know that. But it felt like one. Every branch snap carries weight. Every gust of wind feels like a warning.
I should head back. This adventure’s run its course. And with the sun dipping behind the trees, shadows stretch longer, and the horror film I watched the other night flickers at the edge of my mind like a broken reel.
Too quiet.
I tilt my chin to the sky. The clouds are streaked pink and blue, soft brushstrokes against the darkening treetops. Almost beautiful.
Then—
A hand.
Hard.
Sudden.
It slams me to the ground.
The grip is brutal—unyielding, designed to torment. It mirrors the men who stole me before; coarse, relentless.
I don’t even have time to scream. It’s all happening too fast. I scramble to recall Cam’s training, desperate for anything, but there’s no room to think—just survival.
“That bastard’s gonna pay for stealing you, poppet. Remember me?”
No.
No fucking way.
His voice drills into my bones, cracking open memories I buried deep. Just like that, it’s not safe anymore. Not this place. Not this moment. Not inside my own skin.
His stench hits me next—mildewed breath and stale sweat. I’d never forget that smell.
But how the hell did he find me?
Has he been tracking Cam? Does he know who Cam is?
Is Cam compromised?
“I missed the fight,”
he grunts at my ear, crushing me into the dirt with his bulk. His hands scramble across my body, rough and greedy, yanking at my arms. Cam never showed me how to escape this.
“Fuck you, cunt!”
I snarl, driving my knee upward with everything I have—aiming for his crotch.
No use. He’s built like a wrecking ball.
I shift focus, blocking out the sound of tearing fabric, the chill of my shirt ripped open. He won’t take me. Not again. Not alive. I’ll die before he gets the chance.
I jam one arm tight to my side, snaking it past my head, and snap it back—brutal and direct. His grip falters. I twist. I roll. And I’m free.
Yes.
My lungs are burning, heart threatening to burst—but I know better than to run. Horror films taught me that lesson; never turn your back.
I seize the nearest weapon—a thick branch, jagged and solid. I don’t swing it.
I drive it.
Straight down, like a spear, into his face.
His scream pierces the night, one of my strikes collapsing his eye with a sickening pop.
But I don’t stop. I can’t.
He raped me.
And worse—he revelled in my suffering.
Rage takes the reins. Blinding and all consuming.
I stomp my boot into his groin again and again. His cries inject the air, ripping the innocence from this once aimless walk, fuelling me.
“Go to hell,”
I grit out, impaling him once more. The branch hits deep, splitting his flesh, and his blood arcs upward, showering me in red.
His face is almost indistinguishable now—teeth shattered, one eye a sunken mass, nose split down the centre like something flayed open. But he’s not finished.
A wet, rattling gasp claws at his throat, blood bubbling up in his chest. I hope he’s choking on it.
Should I be horrified by what I’ve done?
Maybe.
But as I wait for panic to crash down, it doesn’t. Instead, there’s peace. A low, thrumming calm in my ears.
I sink down beside him, letting my heart settle, feeling the breeze kiss my skin.
God, it felt good.
I bet he regrets coming for me now.
Whether I got lucky or not, I did it.
First name on my list—handled.
Solo.
I glance at his body—dead weight now, and heavier than anything I’ve ever tried to move. There’s no way I’m dragging him back to the house. I think I remember the path, but this exact spot? No promises.
I stand, legs trembling beneath me, and circle the corpse. His limbs are massive and dense. I try to drag one, and it’s like trying to haul concrete.
Too damn heavy.
But I’ll figure something out.
I lower my weapon for now—knowing I’ll need to come back to clean the scene. Maybe that’s Cam’s domain. He always was a master of tidying up my ugly messes.
I wonder what he’ll think.
Will he be proud?
He said I wasn’t ready—that I couldn’t defend myself.
Well, he can stuff that opinion somewhere dark. Because now I’ve proven it. And when we go after the rest?
He takes me with him. No excuses.