Page 251 of Corrupting Camille
I exhale sharply, every ounce of mercy and restraint burning away into ash. Nothing matters now, no rules, no boundaries, no limits.
They dared touch what belongs to me. They dared touch her.
Rojas took my entire fucking reason to breathe. My light. My life. My everything.
And now?
I’m going to burn his entire world to the fucking ground, piece by bloody, agonizing piece, until he’s begging me for death.
Chapter Twenty-four
Kane
I stand frozen in the heart of the war room, blood roaring violently in my veins, every nerve humming raw and murderous. Monitors blink uselessly around me, maps glowing with routes now meaningless, weapons gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights all of them worthless, mocking me with their impotence.
Because Camille’s gone.
Taken from my bed, ripped from Joaquin’s hands, stolen right out of the fucking sanctuary I built piece by bloody piece to shield her from exactly this moment.
And I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t fucking there.
My breath cuts sharp, slicing my chest, rage and guilt clawing savagely at my insides. Joaquin’s bleeding out, shot down protecting what’s mine. Javi’s barking orders down the hall, desperately organizing intel and triage, chaos everywhere and I should be there, demanding answers, hunting for details.
But I don’t need the details.
I have a name.
Rojas.
That’s all I fucking need.
My hand snaps out, gripping the heavy steel table in front of me, knuckles white-hot with barely restrained fury. With one violent surge, I flip the entire goddamn thing, sending monitors shattering to the concrete, blueprints scattering, files and cords ripping free, the crash echoing like thunder against stone walls.
No one moves. No one breathes.
They’ve never seen me like this. Not in Colombia. Not after watching my father die. Not ever.
Because this, this isn’t war.
This is Camille.
This is the one pure thing I ever had, the woman who trusted my lies that I could keep her safe, that I could ever be soft, gentle, human. She’s gone because I failed her, betrayed by the weakness I let myself feel. By believing that love wouldn’t blind me.
I stride to the weapons locker, movements cold, deliberate, my pulse a low drumbeat of vengeance. The metal doors hiss open, revealing black matte steel lined in perfect, brutal order. Without hesitation, I grab what I need:
Two Glock pistols. Loaded magazines. Silencers. Tactical blade. GPS tracker. Burner phone.
Every item an extension of the violence seething beneath my skin, the darkness fully unleashed.
Javi appears in the doorway, pale, tense, cautiously wary. “Kane…”
“Don’t.” My voice is quiet, lethal. I don’t even glance at him. “Don’t try to talk me down, Javi. You’ll lose.”
He swallows hard, weighing his next words carefully. “We’ve got heat signatures moving toward the bridge near Little River. Could be a decoy.”
“Track them,” I snap, slamming magazines into place, clicking safeties off with brutal efficiency. “Rojas won’t be dumb enough to hand me a straight line.”
