Chapter 2
Camila's POV
And just like that, he was gone.
I stood there in the empty driveway. His taillights disappeared into the dark.
Freezing out here. I pulled my jacket tighter and let out a hollow laugh.
Whatever.
Wasn't the first time.
The driver Gabriel sent dumped me at a safe house in the suburbs.
Not my penthouse. After last month's kidnapping, the family decided my place in the East District was compromised. Jackson signed the relocation order, Gabriel approved it, Rhys rubber-stamped it. Nobody asked me shit.
The car stopped in front of a converted warehouse. The driver tossed me the keys and left.
No security. No lights. Just wind howling across the metal roof.
I pushed the door open. The place reeked of mold and rot. The heating was busted—freezing inside.
I sniffled, opened the fridge. Half a bottle of mustard. That was it.
I remembered how it used to be. If I wanted strawberry cheesecake at 2 AM, Jackson would wake up the private chef. Rhys would stand guard outside my door all night because I was scared of the dark. Gabriel would personally check every window lock, then turn back and ask, "Anything else worrying you?"
Now? They dumped me in this shithole without heat.
I curled up on the couch in my coat. Tears slid down silently.
I didn't get it. What did I do wrong to go from their princess to... this? Or was I always just a pretty decoration they got tired of?
I don't know when I cried myself to sleep.
Gunfire jolted me awake.
RAT-TAT-TAT—bullets shattered the window. Glass everywhere.
I rolled off the couch. My heart was hammering. Rival crew doing a probe—testing if anyone was here to shoot back.
The two guys supposed to be guarding me? Gone.
I was alone.
I crawled to the cabinet and pulled out a Glock. My hands were shaking. I never touched these things before, but last month's kidnapping taught me—I had to learn to protect myself.
I remembered what Rhys showed me. Magazine in, rack the slide...
Click.
But my hands wouldn't stop shaking. As I tried to check it again—
BANG!
It went off.
The bullet grazed my palm. Blood everywhere. I clutched the wound, tears streaming, but didn't make a sound. The shooting outside stopped. They were waiting. Listening for return fire.
I bit down hard, ripped off part of my shirt, wrapped the wound. Then stumbled to my feet. I couldn't stay here. If they came back, I was dead.
I shoved open the back door and ran into the snow.
Suburban winter nights are brutal.
I dragged my bleeding hand through the snow, stumbling. Every step, my shoes sank deep. My toes went numb.
Five miles. From the safe house to their place. Five goddamn miles.
One thought in my head—get to them, and I'd be safe.
By mile three, I nearly collapsed. The wound, the frozen toes—I could barely stand.
I kept telling myself, just get to them. They'll protect me like before. At least... at least they'll let me in.
But deep down, I knew. Those days were over.
The three of them grew up with me. Dad said their parents died for the family, so they became my protectors. My closest companions. I always thought I was lucky—three amazing guys orbiting around me.
But looking back now, I never really considered their feelings, did I? I'd make Jackson drop everything when he was swamped. I'd throw tantrums when Rhys forgot my birthday. I'd second-guess every decision Gabriel made.
And they never said no. Not once.
They must've been tired of me for years. Now they had Avery—sweet, considerate, never caused trouble. They probably couldn't wait to dump the dead weight.
The familiar mansion appeared ahead.
I stumbled to the door, half running, half crawling.
BANG BANG BANG.
I pounded with my good hand.
Jackson opened the door.
He saw me and frowned.
"What the hell are you doing here?" He blocked the doorway. "What, scared of the dark again?"
I'd been scared of the dark since I was a kid. Every thunderstorm, I'd shake under the covers. Jackson would sit by my bed all night, holding my hand, saying "Don't be scared, I'm here" until the thunder stopped.
I couldn't breathe.
"Jackson, listen, I'm not—" My voice shook. "Someone shot up the safe house—the windows, the guards took off, my hand—"
"The safe house got hit?" He laughed coldly, cutting me off. "Camila, come on. If you're gonna lie, at least make it sound believable. Gabriel stationed two men there."
I opened my mouth.
Those two guys were long gone. They saw how Gabriel treated me now. Figured I didn't matter.
"I'm not lying..."
"Enough." Jackson stepped forward, voice low and hard. "Look, last time you trashed Avery's clinic, you destroyed three pieces of medical equipment. I haven't settled that with you yet. So you better behave and stop causing me problems, alright?"
He started to close the door.
I jammed my shoe in the gap. "Jackson, please, I have nowhere else—"
Then I saw inside.
The fireplace roaring. Logs crackling. Rhys handing Avery a steaming glass of bourbon, his face soft in a way I barely recognized.
That face. That expression. He could look at someone like that.
"Jackson, for fuck's sake, close the door!" Rhys shouted from inside. "You're letting the cold in. Avery's gonna catch something."
I didn't care about dignity anymore.
I grabbed Jackson's sleeve, begging. "Jackson, please... look, I learned to shoot, I'm not scared of the dark anymore, I'll do whatever you say..."
Tears mixed with snow on my face.
"Don't leave me alone. Just tonight. Just one night, okay?"
Jackson frowned, about to say something—
A bedroom door opened.
Gabriel walked out, gold-rimmed glasses catching the light.
"It's freezing. Get in here." His voice was still gentle. "And keep it down, would you? I just got Cole to sleep."
