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Still I couldn’t speak. I glanced at Ricky. He watched me, one eye swollen shut, blood covering his face. He didn’t seem strong now. He knew his number had been pulled and he’d be dead before the night was over. I knew that, too. I also didn’t give a shit. He deserved this. Ricky knew who and what he was up against, and he knew this was the end of the road for him.
Maybe that makes me a monster, too, because I don’t care. I want him to suffer, to be afraid.
“Sofia,” Cameron said my name softly, urging me in that deep, commanding voice of his.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice empty, just like my soul. I turned and faced the man who’d ridden in like the very devil himself. But then again, wasn’t I the match to this gasoline-saturated scene?
“Say it. Ask me for it.” Cameron’s voice was eerily strong, collected.
I looked at Ricky again, a man who would have done horrible things to me, trying to push my humanity down. I should feel nothing. I should want him to hurt as much as he’d planned on hurting me, using my weakness to benefit him.
“Ask me to take your problem away.” Cameron’s voice was low, a little seductive. I glanced at him again, feeling like I was lost at sea.
Cameron was powerful and wanted to exert that, wanted me to be on my knees as he showed me what he could do—figuratively and literally—what he could solve. I was at his mercy, the same as Ricky. And a part of me knew that once I said the words, everything would change. Once I told Cameron what I wanted, that I wanted Ricky gone, dead, the life I knew, albeit shitty, would become something else.
I’d be the epitome of darkness, embracing it because I’d taken a life in my hands and extinguished it.
“I want my problem to go away.” The words that came from me were cold, detached…just like my soul in that exact moment. I saw the way Cameron’s lip lifted, this sardonic, sadistic smirk coming into play. He would have killed Ricky without my prompt, without me begging. But here, now, making me ask, that was him showing me the control he had over me.
It was the promise of what he’d show me once we were alone and I had to pay my dues.
“Say it,” Cameron said again, harder this time.
I swallowed, squeezed my hands into fists, and said the words that would change the very person I thought I was. “I want him dead.”
It happened in slow motion, the world rewinding, the air being sucked out of the room. Cameron lifted his hand, his hold steady on the gun, his body seeming corded, tighter. Ricky begged, pleaded. He cried and shook uncontrollably. It didn’t matter, because his fate had already been sealed.
He knew what it felt like for me, how his life was now in someone else’s hands.Good.
And then the sound of the gun going off filled me, surrounded me. It was an echoing in my head, rocking me to my core, shaking everything inside of me. Warmth seeped over me, seemed to seepintome.
Blood. Hot, viscous, life-sustaining fluid covered my face and chest. I was frozen in place, my body numb, the feeling of that liquid dripping from my chin, from the very ends of my hair and onto the floor, stunned as much as it disgusted and pleased me. I looked down, this humming in my ears, this vibration starting deep in my belly. I looked at Ricky, who now lay on the floor just a few feet from me, the bullet having gone right through the center of his forehead.
Just like his friend.
“Look at me, Sofia.”
There was this buzzing in my head, this war drum in my chest.
“Look at me,” Cameron said, harder this time, commanding me to obey.
I slowly lifted my focus from Ricky and looked at Cameron. He wore a mask of indifference. He tucked his gun at the back of his waistband, held out his hand for me to take, but I felt like I was going to throw up, like I was spinning out of control.
This is what you wanted, what you knew would happen.
I stared at his hand, feeling tears running down my face—or maybe it was Ricky’s blood.
“Take my hand,” he said, his voice even, nothing wavering from him. I found myself looking at Ricky and the guy he’d brought with him again, my throat closing, my body feeling like it would shut down.
And then I felt someone help me up, strong hands under my arms, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. The scent of Cameron filled me: dark, heady, and powerful. I tilted my head back and glanced at him. What did he see when he stared down at me? Did he see a broken girl who had nothing else to lose?
And when he lifted his hand, I felt myself flinch. I didn’t think he’d hurt me, but after what had just happened, my body was on the defensive. I watched his jaw clench, wondering what emotion he was experiencing. Did a man like him even feel anything? Did he experience warmth, sadness, regret, or fear?
No.
No, a man like him only cared about power, about bringing fear in others.
“Damien will have the bodies disposed of.”
