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Troy sits at his dinner table, surrounded by guards, in his little walled-up fortress of a home. Thinking he’s safe, breathing his last breaths. Simon stands near me, carefully silent, waiting for my orders. I’m not in a mood for chitchat these days.
I have no idea where Camille is, and it’s making me sick. I’m an idiot. I drove her away.
I’d like to blame the tranquilizer for clouding my brain, but I can’t.
It was all me.
Me and my stubborn pride, refusing to admit the truth to her. The bitter teenager she hurt is still a part of me, wounded and afraid.
I exposed my tender insides to her once before, and she gutted me.
She nearly destroyed me. I can’t let her back in…but what am I without her? I’m nothing. I’m hollow.
Camille is my heart. She’s what makes me human.
I want to be human.
I want to feel something besides hate.
I do love her. I need her. I’ve punished her enough, probably far too much, and after everything I did to her, she still forgave me. She risked her life to save my worthless ass and asked me to love her again, and what did I do? I threw it in her face.
She’s off the grid, and I can’t find her anywhere. I could do something to draw her out, kidnap Landon or Pandora or her mother and make sure it makes the news, but I promised her I wouldn’t, and I won’t break my word to her. It would only make her hate me forever.
But she already hates me forever.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am so stupid. She could have been mine. I could have married her. I could have taken her away with me and bought her a gallery to show her art in, and tied her down and whipped her tight little ass with my belt and then fucked her until she came, night after night.
I ruined it, and the anguish in her eyes when I said the word “never” will haunt me until the day I die.
I’ve never in my life felt guilt, and now I’m choking on it. It tastes bitter and poisonous, but it won’t kill me, oh no, that would be much too easy.
I can’t have her again, and the realization makes me want to truly, genuinely weep. I want to howl my misery to the heavens, release the thick rancorous poison that’s eating away at me. I would cry if I could, but the tears are locked away deep inside me.
Maybe if she were here, I could cry.
If she were here, I wouldn’t need to cry.
I can’t make up for all the harm I’ve caused. The only thing that I can do now is protect her by staying away. That will keep her alive because she has to stay alive. Camille can’t die. Without Camille, there is no me.
Why did it take me so long to realize that?
The challenge is only days away, but I can’t risk Troy going after her again, so I’m doing what I must to keep her safe.
Troy was diving into his pasta a moment ago, but now he realizes something is wrong. His hand is shaking as he drops his fork. His face turns red as he stumbles to his feet and then falls to the ground, curling up in a ball of agony. His guards panic, running around like the proverbial chickens with their heads cut off.
It takes Troy about ten minutes to die. His body is wracked with agonizing tremors. His face purples, his tongue swells up in his mouth. The guards fetch oxygen, and they run an IV, but it’s useless. One of the guards performs an emergency tracheotomy, but it doesn’t work. Troy’s thrashing arms and legs collapse, and his bloodshot eyes bulge from his swollen grape-colored head.
I press a button on my keyboard, and a message goes out to all of the guards’ cell phones. “Your fight is with me. Go after Camille again, and every last one of you will die the same way. I can find you anywhere.” It’s also going out to the cell phone of every man in the Franklin family.
I lean back in my seat and watch the guards screaming and swearing. Then I glance at Simon. “Go. Keep looking for her,” I say.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, Bastien.”
Simon is a brave, brave man. I don’t allow anyone to speak to me like that. Least of all someone under my employ. But over the years, he’s become somewhat of a…friend?
As close to a friend as I can get. I still level him with a glare I hope promises death if he doesn’t move his ass.
“Okay. Find her. On it,” he says, then hurries from the room.
