Page 248 of Corrupting Camille
“Yeah,” she murmurs, voice husky, warm, safe. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay?
I glance down at the faint traces of dried blood still lining my knuckles. “I just needed to hear your voice.”
She’s silent for a second, and I picture her curled up in our bed, tangled in sheets that smell like me. Her voice softens further. “Come home.”
The quiet command in those two words settles something primal in me. Grounds me. I lean my head back, feeling the ache in my bones finally lessen.
“I’m on my way,” I whisper roughly. “Stay awake until I get there.”
She yawns softly, but I hear the smile beneath. “I’ll try.”
“Promise me.”
Another gentle pause, then her voice, soothing and warm: “I promise.”
I end the call, clutching the phone tightly, heart finally steady. Because this is what it takes to protect her. Brutality for peace, blood for safety.
I buried Luis Torres tonight, drowned him in cement, and felt nothing.
But Camille’s voice?
It makes me feel everything.
Chapter Twenty-three
Camille
I stare at my phone, screen still glowing softly from his call. The echoes of Kane’s voice, dark, restrained, laced with an intensity he tried to bury beneath his calm still ripple through me. Something violent had happened tonight, something final. I felt it in the way his breath caught, how carefully controlled his words were. He never breaks control unless he’s holding something back.
My heart pounds unevenly, pulse fluttering erratically. Another sharp wave of nausea hits, deeper this time, as though the anxiety and uncertainty carved from Kane’s voice have found their way into my body. I press my hand firmly against my abdomen, feeling the heat seep into my skin. A quiet reassurance, but also a confirmation.
There’s no hiding from this anymore.
A quiet certainty blooms within me…fragile, undeniable. My body knows something my mind still struggles to accept.Something delicate and powerful, binding me even closer to Kane, anchoring me deeper into his world.
Our world.
I roll onto my side, pulling the sheets tighter around my shoulders, eyes tracing the empty pillow beside me. It’s cold now, vacant without him. My gaze drifts to the clock, watching minutes crawl by with agonizing slowness.
He told me to wait for him, but my eyelids grow heavier with each passing second. I blink stubbornly, pushing away exhaustion, determined to keep my promise. My limbs ache with tiredness, bones heavy, fatigue pulling insistently at the edges of my consciousness.
Still, I fight it, because tonight feels different.
Because Kane will come home changed, raw, maybe broken in ways he’ll never show me. And I need to be here for him, awake, warm, ready to hold him through the storm that always simmers behind his silence.
But tonight, it’s more than just us. More than Kane and Camille tangled together, wrapped up in shadows and secrets. Tonight, there’s something else, something tiny, precious, terrifying, already reshaping our lives in ways we’ve barely begun to imagine.
I slide my hand lower, flattening my palm gently, protectively over my belly.
“I’ll wait up for you,” I whisper softly, closing my eyes briefly.
But the dark behind my eyelids is heavy, comforting, and I slip further beneath its weight. My breathing slows, deepens, pulling me down into sleep.
I fight against it, reaching for consciousness even as it slips further away.
He’ll wake me when he comes.
