Chapter 13 Camille #2
Camille’s throat tightened as she absorbed the stark contrast between his upbringing and her own.
Where her childhood had been a series of staged performances—professional photographers capturing moments of artificial perfection—these images pulsed with authentic emotion.
No carefully arranged poses or designer outfits chosen for maximum social impact.
Just a family who genuinely delighted in each other’s company.
I was so emotionally starved, she thought with devastating clarity. I didn’t even realize how empty my childhood was until now.
Leander’s hands stilled on the album, his breathing growing shallow as some internal battle played across his features. When he spoke again, his voice cracked with the weight of confession.
“I went to his office that night to meet him for dinner. Just a normal Tuesday, nothing special planned.” His eyes grew distant, seeing something she couldn’t.
“I heard the arguing before I reached his door—voices raised but not unusual. Dad and Martin had been partners for fifteen years. They disagreed about everything from building materials to client relations.”
Camille reached out instinctively, covering his hand with hers. His fingers were ice-cold despite the warmth of the room.
“I thought it was just another business dispute until I saw the gun.” Tears gathered in his eyes, transforming them from stormy green to something deeper and more vulnerable.
“Martin had it pointed at my father’s chest, screaming about money and control and how Dad had stolen his life’s work.
I tried to get between them, would have gladly taken that bullet, but I was too late. ”
His voice broke entirely on the last word, and Camille felt her own tears begin to fall. She squeezed his hand tighter, offering what comfort she could as he relived his worst nightmare.
“The sound,” he whispered. “I’ll never forget the sound it made when the bullet hit him. And the way he stared at me as he fell—not afraid, just... disappointed that his life was ending.”
“Leander,” she breathed, aching for the young man who’d watched his hero die.
“Martin turned the gun on me next. Said I was a witness, that I knew too much.” His free hand moved unconsciously to his scar on his collarbone.
“I grabbed the letter opener from Dad’s desk—this heavy bronze thing he’d had since college—and I lunged.
Got Martin right in the jugular as he pulled the trigger.
The bullet grazed my collarbone, missing my heart by inches. ”
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the soft tick of the mantel clock and the distant sound of waves against the shore. Camille absorbed his words carefully and completely.
“You did the right thing,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through his self-recrimination. “You protected yourself. You survived. That’s what your father would have wanted.”
He laughed bitterly. “I’ve lived with the guilt of taking another man’s life for twelve years. The judgment, the whispers, the way people look at me when they think I can’t see. Everyone views me as dangerous.”
“You are dangerous,” she agreed, surprising him. “But not in the way they think. You’re dangerous because you’ll protect the people you love at any cost, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
His eyes searched her face as if looking for signs of deception. “I chose isolation after that night. Kept everyone at arm’s length because I couldn’t bear the thought of caring that deeply again, of having someone I loved ripped away from me. It was safer to feel nothing.”
But so lonely, she thought, seeing the truth written in every line of his face. Twelve years of choosing safety over connection, control over vulnerability.
“Well, you don’t have to do that anymore,” she said simply. “And honestly? I could only hope to be loved that fiercely someday. To have someone care so deeply that they’d value my life over their own safety, that they’d fight the world to keep me protected.”
Something shifted in his expression—a crack in the armor he’d built around his heart.
“I know we haven’t known each other long,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “but I already love and care about you that fiercely. You’re my fated mate, Camille.
I would do anything to keep you safe and by my side. ”
The words should have terrified her. A week ago, they would have sent her running for the nearest exit. But sitting here in the golden light of his family library, surrounded by evidence of what real love looked like, she felt only a deep sense of rightness.
This isn’t possessiveness, she realized. This is devotion. This is what I’ve been searching for my entire life without even knowing it.
“I care about you so fiercely it scares me,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine a life without you in it now. But after today—” She hesitated, old insecurities rising. “I don’t think your pride wants me around. The attack proved that.”
His expression darkened, alpha authority bleeding through his vulnerability. “That wasn’t my pride rejecting you. That was an orchestrated attack from an enemy. I have a strong suspicion Damian sent those rogues to scare you away from me so he could position himself as your savior.”
Fury blazed through her at the thought of such calculated manipulation. “That bastard could never be half the man you are. If his plan was to scare me away, it backfired spectacularly. It only made me realize how much I want you.”
She leaned forward then, capturing his lips in a kiss that tasted of salt and promises and the kind of forever she’d never believed in before. When they broke apart, she pressed her forehead against his.
“I want to see where this future takes us,” she whispered. “I want the mate bond, and I want you. Forever if possible.”