Page 254 of Corrupting Camille
I methodically check both Glocks, the weapons slick and cold against my palms. Two extra mags slide into my vest pockets, metal scraping softly in deadly promise. My tactical knife presses against my ribs, sharp, impatient for blood.
My pulse doesn’t speed up, it slows, deadly calm.
“Five minutes,” I order, my voice steel, every syllable cut sharp. “I go in first, alone. Wait for my signal. If shit goes sideways, you level this place and kill every last living thing.”
They nod grimly.
Javi’s eyes flicker toward the horizon, mouth a tight, grim line. “God help them.”
He won’t.
The dockyard shudders beneath my feet, worn wood and rusted metal groaning like bones about to break. Ocean water slaps the concrete pilings rhythmically, counting down like a clock toward slaughter. The wind slices through gaps in the fencing, sour with rust, salt, and gasoline, sharpening my senses, honing my violence.
The entryway looms silent ahead, shadows yawning wide like a mouth filled with teeth. Too quiet. Too controlled.
I step forward.
Inside, the hallway is dim, lights sputtering and flickering like dying breaths. Broken glass crunches beneath my boots, the sound deafening in the suffocating quiet. My heart is slow, steady, pumping ice through my veins, body taut with lethal precision.
Then…
A sound. Small. Choked.
A whimper, thick with fear.
Hers.
My entire body locks, every muscle rigid, tension carving deep into bone as I turn the corner.
There she is.
Camille.
She’s on her knees, shivering on bare concrete. Her clothes are torn, thin fabric stained and shredded, wrists zip-tied cruelly tight. Dark bruises shadow her skin, raw marks that ignite an inferno inside my chest. She’s breathing too fast, eyes wide, wild fixed desperately on the man crouched inches away, falsely soothing, hiding the venom behind gentle words.
Rojas.
He brushes his fingers across her cheek, the gesture sickeningly intimate, possessive, wrong.
My stomach twists savagely, violence roiling hot beneath my skin, blind, searing rage consuming everything else.
I surge toward the door…
A buzzer screeches overhead. Electronic locks click loudly. I freeze, fists clenched.
Rojas turns lazily, his smile calculated, cruel. Behind him, two men step forward, weapons poised, too close to Camille’s trembling body. She sees me, eyes flashing wide with fear and hope and defiance.
She doesn’t lower her chin, even now.
“Ah, Rivera,” Rojas purrs, voice smooth, utterly amused. “I wondered how long it would take.”
His gaze narrows in cold triumph. “Let’s make this simple. Hands up, weapons down, or I teach you exactly what fear feels like.”
His hand slides up Camille’s thigh, slow, deliberate.
Higher.
My vision narrows to a single deadly point.
