Page 232 of Corrupting Camille
But something cold settles under my skin.
Because I know what it means when Kane says things like that.
I know what he had to do.
And even though I don’t flinch…Even though I don’t pull away…Part of me wonders how long I can live like this.
Loved by a man the world is right to fear.
Held by hands that destroy and protect in the same breath.
I press my lips to his and whisper, “I’m still here.”
Because I am.
But for the first time, I wonder if I always will be.
***
Kane
The air inside the war room is stale with tension and sweat.
It’s not a room meant for comfort, cold concrete walls, a long matte-black table, bulletproof glass on one side, steel blinds drawn against the heat. The kind of space where no one speaks unless I say so. Where silence isn’t stillness, it’s control.
I’ve been here all fucking day.
Javi’s at my left, scrolling through surveillance footage. Joaquin leans against the far wall, arms crossed, that permanent scowl on his face. Diego came and went two hours ago, he knows when to step back and let me handle what’s mine.
Because this? This isn’t a cartel issue.
This is personal.
A man named Márquez is sitting across from me now, sweaty, overdressed, and smiling too easily. He’s old blood, old money, the kind of dealer who likes his vices imported, his money laundered through casinos, and his women terrified.
I don’t trust him.
I never have.
But he’s offering me information and right now, I’m hungry for it.
“Word is you’re expanding,” he says in a syrupy voice, tapping his gold ring against the rim of a short glass. “The Rivera name’s getting loud again. Feels like old days.”
“I’m not interested in noise,” I say flatly. “I’m interested in ownership.”
Márquez chuckles. “Still so poetic.”
I don’t smile.
He shifts slightly, leaning forward. “There’s a new player moving weight through your coast. Quiet. Smart. Flesh and fentanyl. Mostly Eastern Bloc girls, some cartel pipeline crossover. He’s got a casino front opening in Little Haiti next month.”
“Name?”
“Goes by Rojas. But I’m guessing that’s not what’s got you watching your perimeter lately.”
I narrow my eyes. “You offering gossip or intel?”
He meets my gaze, grin fading slightly. “I’m offering leverage. One of my sources says your girl’s been marked.”
