Page 242 of Corrupting Camille
I’m not.
Because if I’m right, if this thing inside her is real, is ours, then it changes everything.
Not just how deeply I protect her, how obsessively I watch her, how viciously I’ll shield her.
But how far I’ll go.
Because I’ve already killed for her. Spilled blood for her.
But for this…for what she might be carrying, what she’s growing inside her?
I’ll raze entire fucking empires to ash and bathe in the blood of every man who ever thought he could touch what’s mine.
Camille
We slip away quietly, just after noon, without fanfare or explanation. No guards. No entourage. Just Kane and me, gliding through the city in one of his sleek black cars, his hand resting lightly on my thigh as the ocean glitters just beyond the highway.
He takes me to a small private cove, an unassuming stretch of beach he owns but rarely visits. The sand is pale gold, the air warm and heavy with salt, the surf lapping gently at the shore. Here, Miami feels distant, muted. All that remains is us, the vast horizon, and something fragile growing quietly inside me that I’m not ready to name yet.
Kane lays out a blanket, and we sit quietly, shoulder to shoulder, watching the water break and foam along the shore. He hasn’t let go of me, one hand gently wrapped around mine like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs eventually.
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“Change,” I whisper, not ready to say more.
He doesn’t press. Instead, he strokes his thumb over my knuckles, gaze locked forward, expression thoughtful but calm. Gentle. It’s a rare softness in him, something I cherish because it’s fleeting easily fractured by the world waiting beyond this tiny haven.
“Whatever it is,” he says slowly, carefully, “I’m here. We handle it together.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not.” His eyes flicker toward mine, shadowed by something heavier. “But it doesn’t matter how complicated it gets. I’m not going anywhere.”
I swallow hard, nodding, wanting desperately to hold onto that promise. I lean against his shoulder, let him hold my weight, listening to the steady thud of his heart beneath my ear.
He’s silent for a long beat.
Then quietly, fiercely, he whispers, “You’re safe, Camille. Always. I swear it.”
I close my eyes and let myself believe him…even if just for today.
Javi
Across the city, deep in the cold, sterile shadows of Kane’s compound, the quiet is sharp. Joaquin and I stand in front of surveillance monitors, faces bathed in the pale glow of the screens, tension thickening the silence between us.
It’s Joaquin who breaks first. “We got a fucking problem.”
“I see it,” I say quietly.
The screen in front of us shows footage from a security camera outside the nightclub Kane owns in Brickell. Two figures in grainy black and white, caught exchanging words near the loading docks.
One is unmistakably recognizable: Rojas himself, lean, careful, a shadow Kane is determined to erase.
The other…
