Page 239 of Corrupting Camille
I press a quiet kiss to her temple before slipping from bed, silently grabbing a discarded pair of pants and pulling them on as I leave the room.
The war room’s already humming with tense energy by the time I arrive. Javi stands by the long table, his face grim, Joaquin leaning against the wall with a dark, unreadable expression. The moment they see me, the air thickens.
“Tell me,” I say, voice low, controlled.
Javi slides a photo across the table without preamble.
It’s a blurred image, grainy, clearly pulled from surveillance footage. But I recognize the man immediately, deep-set eyes, narrow face, trimmed dark beard. He’s walking confidently toward a dark SUV, flanked by two men, each of them armed.
Rojas.
“He’s here?” My jaw tightens, pulse slamming hard through my veins.
“Landed last night. Private airfield near Hialeah.” Javi’s voice is quiet, precise. “He’s set up shop on our doorstep.”
“Does he know we’re aware?”
“Not yet,” Joaquin interjects, voice gruff. “But he’s smart. He’s careful. If he’s showing his face, he’s ready to escalate.”
My knuckles whiten as I grip the edge of the table, rage simmering quietly beneath the surface. “We don’t wait for him to make a move. If he’s here, we strike first.”
Javi nods slowly, eyes meeting mine. “You sure about this? The man’s connected internationally…Russian ties, Serbian roots. We hit him wrong, the fallout’s fucking ugly.”
“I know exactly what he is.” My voice drops into lethal quiet. “And he chose this war.”
There’s a silence. Joaquin watches me carefully. “You realize he’s baiting you, right?”
My jaw flexes. “Of course he is. He wants me distracted. Angry.”
“Focused on Camille,” Javi murmurs.
My stomach turns at her name. It’s not anger, it’s something deeper, colder. Fear, buried so deep it turns my voice to ice. “Then he’s got exactly what he wants.”
Joaquin shifts slightly, uneasy. “You sure you’re seeing this clearly, hermano?”
I lift my head slowly, eyes locking on his with deadly calm. “Never clearer.”
They both go quiet, nodding slightly.
“Get eyes on him. Everywhere,” I say finally. “Track every fucking move he makes. If he so much as breathes near her, he’s dead before sunrise.”
Javi nods. “Consider it done.”
I turn without another word, my pulse hammering violently beneath my skin. The hallway back to Camille feels impossibly long, shadows stretching too deep, too silent. My chest tightens as I slip back into our bedroom, pausing at the doorway to look at her.
She’s still asleep, curled slightly, one hand still resting protectively over her stomach.
My heart stutters. Just once.
A feeling I can’t name twists fiercely behind my ribs.
I crawl back into bed slowly, careful not to wake her, but Camille stirs, turning into my arms, her eyes fluttering open sleepily.
“Kane?” Her voice is rough with sleep, soft and achingly vulnerable.
“Just a call,” I murmur quietly, brushing hair from her face. “Go back to sleep.”
Her eyes linger on mine, worry flickering briefly before she nods, sinking into my embrace again, body molding against mine perfectly, her breath slow, steady.
